Of Men On Other Worlds

“So… you are an alien, then?”

The brown bearded man slumped down in a wooden chair by a square wooden table. A whiter man sat on the other side, bound to his wooden chair by a rope. The bearded man, Greg, flicked on the light overhead and brought a small glare of light swinging like a pendulum over the table.

“Yes, compared in perfect parallel to what you consider to be an alien.”

The light passed between Greg and the visitor, shining light on the man and his prisoner until it finally settled between them, lighting the table and bring a balance of lit equality to the cemented room. Greg spoke first.

“How did you get here? To Earth?”

“The process was very difficult, I can assure you. Space travel is no easy task, no matter how advanced any advanced race claims to be.”

“What is the name of the planet you come from?”

“Orth.”

“Constellation?”

“Where I come from there are no constellations. My planet is merely one in a series floating outside the guidance of a rotating galaxy. We have no suns or moons.”

“You say suns or moons, implying you’ve seen planets with more.”

“Indeed. Three planets we know of hold considerate amounts of the two. Some planets have two suns and three moons. Some are reversed.”

“And just how many planets does your kind know of?”

“Inhabited or uninhabited?”

“Both.”

“Twenty-four. Yours was the first we found containing life.”

“That’s shocking. We were sure any species able to reach us would be well off in the matter of knowing all about space and it’s worlds.”

“I believe our races are the same. That we both held out hopes for potential when the day came that we would finally meet. I certainly didn’t expect to be trapped underneath someone’s home, tied to a chair to be interviewed. And I bet you never expected to have a spacecraft land in your own backyard. But… you didn’t kill me. And for that I am grateful.”

“How far did you travel to get here?”

“Oh, a while. A long distance, I can assure you. But… I must say, even I’m not too sure about the distance. By the standards of your modern technology, I’d say your kind could have made the trip I made in about.. two-thousand eighty-two years.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Two minutes.”

Greg sat back in astonishment. He was calm and mesmerized by the visitor. He pushed a small box out of his tight jean pocket and settled it on the table, hiding it under his advancing right hand. He flipped on the recording button of his hidden box and coughed as to not let the visitor hear the sound of the machine. Greg did this as a sort of last minute act of fleeting paranoia as almost all of his doubts concerning the being in front of him began to fade quickly. Greg began again. 

“Now that’s damn impressive! I hope you don’t mind the ropes. I just can’t be sure. With you being… alien and all.”

“I completely understand. Believe me, if one of your kind had landed on my planet I’d probably tie you up for questioning as well.”

“So you’re not mad?”

“Not at all. This is the most logical response to an alien. I expect no special treatment or sudden rush of acceptance. You have no idea if my species eats their young, drinks whole oceans or breaths toxic gas. What you are doing is normal to an encounter of this nature. Please, feel no worries.”

“For the second… that stuff really isn’t true about your race, is it? About the ocean drinking and gas breathing?”

“Haha. Of course not.”

“So aliens have a sense of humor too?”

“Is it any surprise?”

“No. Just nice to know. Umm… I probably should of told you this before, but I got this box right here. It’ll record our conversations. That alright?”

“Well, I’m barely in a position to protest. You’re keeping me well fed, keeping me busy and keeping me comfortable.”

“Minus the ropes?”

“Minus the ropes. Haha. But still, do what you wish. You are recording this to share our encounter, no doubt? Well I would like our encounter to be known as well. It would be nice for the people of the world to see that the first face to face meeting between two different extraterrestrials was composed peacefully, and without violence.”

Both Greg and the visitor sat back and took deep breaths of relief. Greg began again.

“It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Yes. And one day both of our races will know of this meeting. And they will both know how this all began.”

“With words. Not war.”

“Exactly.”

“I never expected your kind to be so peaceful.”

“I never expected your kind to be so logical.”

“Believe me, not all of us are.”

“Oh, I know the feeling. Not all species are perfect, and as a group it is scary what they can do.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Greg pulled out a pack of cigarettes an lit up one. The first of many to follow. The visitor looked at them with a sort of confusion and didn’t bother to ask for one or inquire about what they were. Greg could see this hesitation towards his cigarette and chose not to dress it, as he had too many other questions to ask the alien before him. Greg pressed on with his next question.

“You said before you were from a planet called Orth.”

“That is correct.”

“What is it like?”

“Much like your planet. Green life, mountains, structures reaching up to the clouds. Just like yours. We have transportation and means of communication set up all over the globe. We just happen to be a little ahead of you.”

“I see.”

“What’s the matter? Didn’t expect an alien to be so cocky about his home world? And especially after the sate of his crashed ship which… he, I… probably shouldn’t be bragging about. Haha. Based on the nature of my situation. Haha.”

“No, it’s not that. I just never expected your kind to look exactly like us.”

“Yes, I am finding that strange as well. Both our races are unbelievably similar. We even speak the same language.”

“I was jus about to ask about that! Is your kind telepathic?”

“Haha! No, I assure you. I guess you and I are just on the same level of thinking.”

“So you have no idea how it is we both speak the same language?”

“No clue. If I knew, believe me, I would tell you. Perhaps it is just one of those strange happenings of the universe. One of those things, unexplained by even the greatest of minds. Maybe there exists a race beyond the both of ours who does know. But, I don’t wish to jump ahead so quickly.”

“Same.”

There was a short silence before Greg continued questioning; taking time to truly enjoy this opportunity he had been granted.

“Moving right along… can you tell me anything about your kind?”

“About the Orthlings? Hmm… well, we are very much like you. From what I can tell we speak the same, we act the same, we think alike and we look unrecognizable from one another. Apart from this there’s not much I can say. Do you have days of worship?”

“Like… holidays?”

“Yes! That word encompasses the term perfectly!”

“You’ve never heard the term ‘holiday’ on your planet?”

The visitor thought for a moment but could think of nothing relating to the word.

“No. That one seems new to me. I can’t speak on behalf of my race, though.”

“I understand. Even I don’t know the entire english language. Hell, there are whole languages on our planet that are foreign and unknown to me.”

“You are kidding? Same with me! There are varying degrees of language on my world as well! Most I never took the time to learn.”

“So… you’re home planet is called Orth. What does that stand for?”

“Beautiful. What is Earth’s language meaning?”

“You’d laugh if I told you.”

“I promise I won’t. Go ahead. What does ‘earth’ mean?”

“Dirt.”

“P-Pardon?”

There was a slight chuckle in the visitor’s voice. Greg could tell and nearly almost bursted out laughing himself.

“It means dirt.”

The visitor bowed his head to smirk as Greg focus his mouth to the side of his face in a display of blatant embarrassment. The visitor spoke next.

“That’s…”

“Pathetic?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that.”

Greg went forth with his next question.

“Why were you here?”

“I was sent to study human behavior. To see if your race was worth contacting.”

“And are we?”

“I’ve yet to make my report.”

“Your report?”

“Yes. Like a job, I have to report back to my superiors upon the nature of my progress. Sure, getting kidnapped wasn’t in the job description, but at least I’m doing my job. Technically.”

Greg continued.

“How did your ship crash?”

“When I entered your planet’s atmosphere, something must have not mixed well with the engine, cause after coming into contact with Earth’s air my whole ship had just up and died.”

“I see. But I bet you’re grateful both our races breath the same air.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“How old are you?”

“Two thousand and one years old, as of the last lunar cycle of your world.”

“Holy s**t!”

“And how old are you? Forty three.”

“Oh my. You have a way to go my fiend. You’re practically an infant on my planet.”

“Sorry to say, space-man, but I think you’re mistaken. See, us humans only get to live till about a hundred or so. Maybe more, maybe less. Just living to three hundred is out of our life expectancy fantasies.”

“That’s no good. I’m sorry to hear that.”

The visitor almost looked depressed for a moment, and he put his head down as if thinking over the span of an earthlings life. How insignificant he must have thought it was. Greg began again.

“What do you think of humans from your research?”

“Just like my own race. Weaknesses and strengths, flaws and positives. I don’t fear our kinds meeting. I’m content with what I’ve seen.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

This time, before Greg could ask the next question on his list, that he had tucked in his hand, under the table, the visitor spoke up.

“What are those white and yellow sticks you’ve been burning in your mouth?”

“They’re called cigarettes.”

“What do you do with them?”

“They make smoke. You breath it in and out of your lungs. It slowly kills you, but it feels nice, tastes good and calms you down.”

“Strange. Could I have one?”

“Sure! Uhh… Absolutely!”

Greg nearly jumped from his seat with excitement, having been the first man alive to offer a cigarette to an alien. He almost couldn’t contain his ecstatic behavior. Greg placed one of his cigarettes in the visitors mouth, lit it and waited for him to start choking. But the visitor never did. He smoked the whole thing down without so much as a need to catch his breath. Almost like the alien was a born smoker. Greg was impressed and stated so.

“Damn! You sure you never tried this before? Positive. We have no such thing on planets as these… cig-are-ettes.”

“Sometimes we call em’ cancer sticks.”

“What is cancer?”

“A b***h. That’s what it is fella.”

Greg seemed to drop the subject quickly. He went quiet for a moment and put the box of cigarettes away in his jacket pocket. Before he could continue questioning again, the visitor spoke out again with another question of his own. 

“Do you trust me enough to tell me exactly where it is we are? I know we are in the basement of your home, but where?”

Greg didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Nevada. That’s the state I live in. Do you know what a state is?”

“No. But I might have an idea. Are states contained within larger continents to make up a mass populous run on culture, economy and a personal government?”

“In a sense.”

“Then, yes! I know exactly what a state is. Have you lived here all your life?”

“Mainly. I used to work locally. Odd jobs, mainly. Nothing big. Enough to afford my own place here.”

“That’s nice…”

The Visitor went quiet for a moment. Suddenly, there came a thud and the rushing of heavy boots stomped across the ceiling. Greg’s head shot up and down again, landing on the Visitor.

“Did you hear that!?” Greg screamed.

Before either of them could move the basement door flew open and a team of heavily armed military men filled the room. They cuffed Greg and pulled him outside, kicking and screaming. All the while a large man slowly approached the Visitor with a knife. In a few cut the man in black freed the supposed alien from the rope which tied him to his chair. The Visitor stood up, rubbed his wrists while speaking directly to the man in black in front of him.

“Well it’s about god damned time!! This crazy f**k had me tied up here for days! He thought I was an alien for christ sakes!!”

The man in black resounded. “ I assume our test aircrafts were not to your liking professor?”

“Not to my liking!? NOT TO MY LIKING!?!”

The Visitor stormed out of the room, followed by the men in black who had Greg hogtied out on his lawn by the time they’d all made it outside. The Visitor spoke again.

“Misshapen wings are not to my liking. A filthy workspace is not to my liking. But testing one of your base’s new crafts, then having it crash out in the middle of god knows where, where some f*****g lunatic in a cottage in the desert can fish me out and lock me up in his basement, thinking I’m an alien, No!! THAT IS PRETTY F*****G FAR FROM MY LIKING!!!”

The Visitor… the Professor was furious, pressing his finger into the chest of the man in black. The man in black spoke.

“We apologize that it took so long to find you. The distress signal was weak, you know, you being underground and all. Did he really think you were an alien, sir?”

“Well, yeah! A strange ship with a guy in it lands in his backyard. Before I knew it he was ready to show me Elvis and feed me fast food to see if my ‘alien biology’ could handle it. Plus, to buy time I made up a few things, to keep him thinking I was one. God knows, if he knew I was some government official he might have panicked, tired to do away with me. I don’t like to deal with these outback bucktooth conspirators. Bunch of maniacs.”

“Yes, sir.” The man in black replied.

“So what’s gonna happen to him?” The Professor said, gesturing towards Greg.

The man in black replied.

“Not sure. It’ll be out of our hands. The man has seen classified government equipment. From our standpoint this is a clean and cut case of kidnapping and hostage taking. We may give him a short term sentence. Put him away for a few months and mess with his memories. It’s best for everyone if we just forget this whole thing even happened. Do you care? About him, I mean.”

“Like I give a s**t what happens to him.” The Professor replied.

As Greg lied on the ground crying out for his alien friend, the professor was escorted, by the men in black, back to Area 51, where they took

“Any chance you could skip this experience’s recuperation and hop back onto working on that craft?” The man in black asked the Professor.

“Kiss my a*s.” The Professor replied.

The man in black laughed.