First Place

Alien Presence

By Gene Woolcott

When Monica Brady's sister and brother-in-law cleaned out Monica's apartment after she died, Monica's journal came to light.

“Bob, you won't believe what I just found!” Cynthia exclaimed, hurrying into the kitchen when her husband was boxing up dishes.

Bob took the well-worn journal from his wife and opened to the first page. “This reads like a science fiction story! I didn't know that Monica had that kind of imagination!” he exclaimed, but kept reading.

*****

As I dropped out of dimensional warp, I thought that I'd made a calculation error. I found myself gazing at a remarkably beautiful planet that reminded me of the Soca globes that I'd treasured before I matured. My first memories are of those Soca globes and the games my siblings and I had played. Of course, that was a very long time ago.

As the alarms suddenly sounded, warning me that the ship's power packs had to be recharged, I realized that if this was just a miscalculation, I'd been very fortunate indeed. I checked my destination calculations a second time and found that this was the planet I was to investigate for possible entry into galactic society.

I engaged the cloaking system before I manually guided the ship into the twilight zone and followed it around the planet until I found a suitable place to land. The place seemed to be all vegetation. I hadn't seen a life form that I could recognize as such, though the quick scans that I conducted showed this world was teeming with life. Artificial lights had flickered into existence as I followed the twilight zone around the planet, proving that the scans were accurate. This phenomenon is considered a universal constant; only intelligent beings would take the trouble to produce artificial lighting.

I had no idea how to survive on this world but I knew that I would have to find a way to do so because I was marooned here, at least until the power packs recharged. I must presume that Leadership intended this to happen so that I would have time for a thorough analysis.

I soon discovered what passed for life here; corporeal forms that moved about on appendages. There were myriad species that qualified as life but most that I encountered in the next few cycles would never be considered intelligent. I'd have to find an area that produced the artificial light.

Before I had traveled too far from my ship, I realized that I should hide the ship much closer to one of those areas. The sky was darkening as I climbed back into my ship and moved it, landing at the outskirts of a very large area that produced enough artificial lighting to outshine the stars.

I thought it very strange that this species would choose to live in the middle of an almost uninhabitable region of perennial, extreme drought. That fact allowed me to park my ship in the middle of a clump of brush. It would have been plainly visible but I set the power packs to recharge, leaving just one system engaged. The cloak had to remain active to keep the ship from being discovered. As I again walked away from the ship, I energized my personal cloak. I knew that I too had to remain hidden from view or the locals would probably become inordinately frightened. They'd never encountered an off-world alien species before, or so I presumed. This planet was in the galactic records but had been all but abandoned after colonization had been attempted by three of the major species of the galaxy.

I was used to a much stronger light but this species, apparently the only indigenous one that had risen to that status, seemed to do quite well under their sun. Perhaps feeling that it might damage them if they remained exposed to it continually, they wore artificial covering, leaving only their upper pods and visages exposed.

I settled down for a long stay. My ship would take a very long time to recharge, because this star was so weak in comparison to my own system's primary. I had no need for what these beings valued but if I wished to study them as closely as I intended, I thought it wise to obtain a number of the artificial coverings that they seemed to require. It proved to be a more difficult task than I at first thought.

Among the many idiosyncrasies of this civilization, I discovered that they used artificial means to value things. They called it money. I should at least try to explain this concept.

Small, circular, flat pieces of metal are used to purchase the relatively minor things while larger items require sometimes copious amounts of rectangular pieces of paper that have markings in the corners to designate their supposed value. Both are called money but the metal money is called coin, while the paper money is called currency. Anything beyond that simple explanation would require an education neither wanted nor welcomed.

While I finally did obtain several of what these creatures called suits of clothing, I had to do so dishonestly. I stole! I shall never forgive this world for making me do something so distasteful.

Many of these creatures regularly steal as a means of obtaining what they want. They are called thieves. Some are called criminals, while others of them are called businessmen. I cannot tell the difference between the two types, though I imagine there is one.

There are several different cycles that this civilization has designated as a means of measuring time. All are based on the length of time this world takes to orbit its primary. That period is called a year. The year is confusingly divided into twelve divisions called months. Months are not all of equal length but these creatures seem to not notice that discrepancy. Months are roughly divided into four weeks, though only a single one of the months is actuality just that long. Weeks are divided into seven days. Days are divided into twenty-four hours. Hours are divided into sixty minutes. Minutes are divided into sixty seconds. There are other temporal designations but those have to do with long periods of time, such as centuries which are one hundred years, and eons, which are two hundred fifty centuries. Apparently that is as long as they care to use since it is more than an ordinary lifetime for this species. I begin to appreciate my people much, much more.

For now, I will continue to watch and learn about this unique but chaotic world. I must learn to interact with them without drawing attention to me. I cannot say with any certainty that I might be harmed but, as the wisest among us say, it is better to be safe than sorry.

To my great sadness, I find that I long for the presence of my beloved. I look forward to returning home in the not too distant future. I will continue this in a number of years.

*****

It has been six years since I first landed on this strange world and I have learned much. Early in this report, I mentioned a time cycle called month. I have now been here long enough to verify that these beings are even more inconsistent than I could possibly have conceived. One of those months – the one that was supposedly exactly four weeks long – changes length. Every fourth year, this month, called February, adds one day.

I am gratified that the ship's power packs are at one-tenth capacity because that means I will only have to endure another fifty four orbits of this planet before I can return home. Of course, I must recharge my personal cloak's power pack each day. It has become routine.

This day I ventured into the midst of these creatures. I created an artificial form that very closely resembles one of them and covered it with the artificial coverings that they routinely use. It seemed wise to mimic them as closely as possible.

Though these creatures should be considered the dominant sentient species of this planet, they are almost totally ignorant of their place in the grand scheme of things. The universe is an infinitely more complicated place than they believe. They believe that their species is the crowning achievement of the Creator. How absurd! Their limited lives stretch to just past one hundred of their years though in most cases it is much less than that, and many of these beings are routinely destroyed by accident and disease. That is almost unthinkable to a species that measures a lifetime in eons.

I have learned one of their languages, called English. It is only one of hundreds more. As I said before, this is a world of chaos and I fear for the lesser emerging species surrounding this civilization, if it discovers the means of traveling beyond this tiny star system. It seems unlikely that such a discovery could be made until many hundreds of years have passed. While they are intelligent and extremely curious, they do not adapt to change very well. I begin to wonder how they have survived as a species for this long.

This is apparently a caste system in place. The people with the most currency available to them are the masters of the world. Apparently, this species enjoys creating things that have no reality but great usefulness, though only to themselves. They have created an entity, called a corporation, and given it dominion over the real entities of the world. There is counterpart to this corporation entity, called government, which is used as a kind of counter-balance to corporation.

Corporation takes huge sums of money from the public calling it business and gives a part of what it takes to government, which in turn gives part of it back to the public in the form of mostly useless services that public neither needs nor wants. Some individuals have risen in power over most of the rest, calling themselves successful businessmen. The counterpart to Businessmen is Politician. Politician joins with others of its kind and makes rules that everyone is supposed to follow.

Corporation run by Businessman and Government run by Politician, rule over this world like demigods. I have yet to understand this system but will continue to learn as much about it as I am able.

I am of the opinion, at least at this juncture of this experience, that Businessman and Politician are motivated by Money and Power respectively. I feel sorrow for the common individuals of this place. They seem to have no power to do as they please. I will spend the next few years exploring the dynamics of this situation. To effectively research this project I will intermingle with them, interacting in a much more intimate way with several individuals.

I have also discovered that they have two genders. It is curious that the larger of the two genders is male while ours is the female. I must emphasize that I am only doing research when I interact, as I must, with the males of this world. With very little effort on my part I could construct an artificial form that would mimic the male, thereby allowing me to discover the difference between the two genders here. I'll decide whether or not to proceed with that after I have sufficiently explored the female perspective.

Several months have passed and I have become ‘friends' with a number of females. They are called women. The male gender is called men.

Men and women interact quite routinely. Many of them form breeding pairs and procreate. How they bring children into this world is quite different from the way our offspring are brought forth. The female is expected to grow these children inside her body, sending them into the world by a most disgusting process call birth. The females of this species seem to yearn for this to happen to them, even though great pain is involved in the birth process. Our way is much easier and much simpler, thank the Creator.

I have adopted the appellation Monica. For the sake of keeping the two personalities separate, I shall refer to Monica as a separate entity. I wish to keep my sanity. I feel that by detaching myself from Monica, I can achieve that goal.

This world is… I can only call it addictive. I could very easily forget that I am not human. That is what these beings call their species. In some ways, the family unit is similar to a pod at home. Even we have detached young ones residing with a pod not their own. On this world, this process is called adoption. I have recently joined a family unit by adoption and feel well accepted by them.

*****

“Monica always did have a wild imagination,” Bob said as he looked up from the journal. “She says that she was adopted by your parents when she was a teenager.”

“Bob, you don't understand,” Cynthia said. “Monica was adopted. Mom wanted me to have a sister and Monica showed up one day when she was about sixteen or so. I still don't know how old she was when we adopted her. We never found out where she came from. She had no relatives and as strange as it may seem, she seemed to have no memory of her life before the adoption.”

“Get real, Babe,” Bob replied. “You can't really believe she was an alien, can you?”

“It makes sense. She spoke with an unusual accent even though her English was grammatically perfect. She had to be an alien, especially in light of the damage that asshole, Roger, inflicted on her. My God, Bob! He damn near beat her to death twice. The first time, she stayed out of sight for almost three months.”

“I always thought you were exaggerating,” he replied, opening the book to re-read that part of the narrative.

*****

The human male is a fascinating creature. Its sole purpose seems to be to mate with as many females as possible. There is a ritual called dating that allows men and women to interact and sometimes mate. While the man seems to think he is dominant in these relationships, it is almost always the woman who chooses the man which whom she will mate. Obtaining an offspring isn't always the goal of these random matings. Most of the younger men and women that I have met seem to get a great deal of pleasure from these encounters. I may never be able to understand why, since I am incapable of feeling either pleasure or pain. This species seems to revel in those feelings.

Some months have passed. I have chosen a male who is supposed to be one of the better- looking men in the area and begun my research into this sometimes messy method of producing offspring. I cannot actually produce an offspring in this manner but that doesn't seem to bother Roger. He wishes to mate almost continually.

*****

“I remember when Roger came into the picture,” Cynthia said sadly. “Mom was terrified that his reputation for violence was too well-deserved.”

“I suppose it was the same as with most young women. Monica just wouldn't listen. Am I right?” Bob asked.

“It's not that she refused to listen. Monica wasn't the rebellious type. She simply did as she pleased and never complained about anything that happened to her.” Cynthia shook her head. “She was stupid to marry that jerk. We all knew it but she did it anyway.”

*****

Many more months have passed. It is now presumed by their circle of friends that Roger and Monica are about to marry. I find only confusion about this.

To marry is to pledge undying love to just one other person, something that any truly intelligent being knows is impossible. How can you love anyone if you do not love everyone? I must suppose that this has something to do with religion, another institution that seems to have at least a minimal power over the people. The closest concept to religion that I can find in our society is spirituality.

Spirituality is a universal concept that has endured in unchanging form since the beginning of time. Humans have a very primitive concept of the Creator from whom spirituality springs. They have divided Him into many and varied concepts, each faction claiming that they are right about Him and saying that everyone else is wrong in their beliefs. This splintering has apparently been going on for many centuries and there are very literally hundreds of religions, though there are only seven major religions. Again, each of those major religions is splintered into many different sects. Humans have a very odd attitude toward the Creator. They actually fear Him, expecting to be punished for every little infraction of the rules set down by the respective leaders of whatever religious faction to which they belong. Perhaps with enough time they will cease fearing and realize that He only wishes their love.

*****

“It sounds to me like Monica had a pretty good grasp on her spiritual beliefs,” Bob remarked, again looking up from the journal.

“Nothing ruffled her feathers if that's what you mean, Bob,” Cynthia replied. “I do remember that Monica was terrified of something but she refused to talk about it.”

“It was probably about then that Roger began hitting her,” Bob said.

“No, this was something else entirely,” Cynthia replied. “Monica never denied his abuse. She was pretty open about his hitting her. She hated it but she said that she couldn't leave him just yet. She was hiding something from the world. I guess it was the fact that she was an alien.”

*****

Another six years have passed and I have much to report. First and foremost, the ship's power packs have recharged to more than twenty-five percent. That means that I will be able to leave even sooner than I first supposed and that is good news to me.

I have grown accustomed to being called Monica and almost never miss responding in the correct manner. I continue to use a personal cloak inside the Monica form because of an incident that showed my actual form to Roger. He pulled my Monica form partly from me, exposing the upper portion of my true self. I rebuffed his attack, resealed the form around me and immediately left the room. I am thankful that he thought he had hallucinated because of having just sniffed that white power he uses quite frequently.

Monica and Roger have now been married for two years. At the time, I saw no harm in pursuing this line of research but to my utter dismay, I now realize that there is a hidden phenomenon that takes place after two people join in that supposedly holy relationship.

Roger was… how can I put this. He began “cheating” on Monica. That is, he has continued to mate with other females, often to the point of ignoring Monica. Monica on the other hand is quite content to ignore his “wandering,” probably because I personally do not understand why he shouldn't be allowed to do as he wishes.

*****

“I had a feeling that Monica wasn't Roger's only sex partner,” Bob said, looking up from the journal a third time. “She's just said that he started cheating on her about two years after they got married. I know for a fact that he screwed one of her bridesmaids at the reception.”

“And just how do you happen to know that?” Cynthia asked.

“I saw the two of them go into the bedroom where all the coats were. They didn't even bother to lock the door. I opened it and saw them. The guy's a real asshole.” Bob shook his head and went back to reading.

*****

Monica's closest friend Betty has advised her to divorce Roger, saying that he doesn't deserve someone as sweet and kind as Monica. I don't understand Betty's reasoning any more than I do Roger's. However, my current research into the social structure of this world seems to have come to a grinding halt. Betty repeatedly advises me to -- pardon the colloquialisms -- Betty advises me to “get rid of that asshole and get on with your life.”

It should be understood by Leadership that this society is very confused and very confusing. How can one proclaim undying love to another person and then deny by action the very proclamation? Believe it or not this society has a name for the phenomenon. It is called “double standard.” This society is apparently built upon this principle.

Double standard means this. One may insist that a certain rule be strictly enforced and then break the rule oneself or allow one's friends to break the rule without imposing the necessary penalty, while society in general may not break the rule. This seems to be the basis for all actions by both Corporation and Government. Religion also seems to use double standard routinely. It is easy to see why this society is so conflicted.

As a means of continuing my research into family unit behavior, Monica actually divorced Roger. He became increasingly abusive to Monica and it became too difficult to continually repair the damage to the Monica form that he inflicted during his fits of anger.

*****

“Well, that explains a lot!” Bob exclaimed. “I always thought that Monica was just too perfect. She wasn't really a person but just a covering of some kind. She just explained her reasoning for divorcing Roger.

“I remember reading that too. It wasn't that he was hurting her too much. It was because the repair took too much of her time. You have to remember, Bob, she said she couldn't feel pain or pleasure.”

*****

Monica has left Roger and I have replaced that damaged unit with another identical one. The proof that I succeeded came when Betty visited Monica in her new abode and remarked at how good Monica looked.

It is strange that Betty would continue to be Monica's friend because Betty was one of the women with whom Roger mated. You might ask how I came by that information and I shall now tell you. During that first visit to Monica's new abode Betty succumbed to guilt, confessing her relationship with Roger and asking Monica for forgiveness. Monica could do nothing else but give Betty what she asked. It is equally strange that Betty moved into Roger's abode shortly thereafter.

Though I have been interacting with this society for more than fourteen years and that is a long time for these people, I cannot understand why Monica is called “fool” by her other friends.

It is clear to me that Roger did not love Monica, not even a little. Betty seems to love Roger but I think Roger is incapable of loving another being. Betty will reap the rewards of her actions. Roger is so conflicted by his own thoughts that he is angry all the time and Betty will soon become the target for his outbursts of violence. That is sad because I became quite fond of Betty.

*****

Ten more years have passed and I have determined that the ship's power packs are recharged enough to get me home. I will be leaving this planet in approximately three months.

I must explain why I wish to remain in this primitive society for that much longer than I need. The minds of these people are very fragile. They don't handle situations very well that are radically different from their preconceived notions of “normal”. It would not be wise for me to have Monica simply vanish – that would only initiate a governmental investigation -- and I cannot very well just leave the Monica form behind for discovery. To do that would only cause panic among the general populace. I will therefore have Monica contract an illness for which there is no cure. Monica will die. Such an illness is already rampant on this planet. It is called cancer and it is of a type that is almost always fatal. I have programmed the symptoms into the Monica form.

*****

“I remember when Monica came to tell us that she was dying,” Cynthia said, her eyes filling with tears. “I tried and tried to get her to try the more radical treatments but she always refused. She said it was time for her to go home. I always thought she was referring to Heaven.”

“Yeah, that was weird. She never seemed to be in much pain, even though I knew she must have been.” Bob suddenly looked stunned. “Wow! What a laugh! She couldn't feel pain.

“Bob, you don't understand it yet. Monica… or whatever her name was… didn't die. She did just go home.”

*****

Monica died of her disease at home with her family and friends by her side. I made sure that no examination of the corpse would be deemed necessary.

As I rise up through the atmosphere, I feel a small ache of loneliness trying to push aside my greater joy of returning home. I know the feeling haunts me because I became too involved with several individuals of this beautiful little world. I shall especially miss my adopted sister, Cynthia.

My final analysis of the society that has become the dominant one here? They are too immature to be allowed to leave their world and join the greater society of the galaxy. They should be considered as very small but curious children. In a few millennia, I will return to re-evaluate my findings. Perhaps they will be ready by then. Perhaps not. At the moment they are a danger only to themselves. I cannot in good conscience allow them the freedom they so desperately want.

*****

“Bob, I heard that Roger's second wife died suddenly and he has been indicted for first-degree murder,” Cynthia said.

“I'd heard that, too. I hope they fry the bastard. He deserves it for what he did to Monica,” Bob replied. He riffled through the hundred or so empty pages at the back of the journal and found an envelope. “Cyn, she left you a note,” he said, handing his wife the envelope that had her name written on it. Cynthia opened the flap and pulled out the handwritten note.

To my adopted sister, Cynthia

I know that you might have trouble accepting the implications of this journal. I left it behind specifically for you so that you wouldn't grieve for me. In the closet, in the far left hand corner at the back of the shelf, you will find a small, odd-looking device that has a single button on it. It would be wise if you put the device in the sun for at least an hour each day. When you are alone, stand before a mirror and press the button. This should prove to you that I am what my journal implies.

With undying love, your sister, Monica.

Cynthia crumpled the note into a ball and put it in her jeans pocket. If the device is what I think it is, I don't want anyone to know about it, she thought. “Carry this last bunch of stuff down to the car, Bob,” she said. “I want to get away from here as soon as possible. I'll take one last look around to be sure we didn't miss anything.”

When Bob was going down the stairs, Cynthia found the object described in the note. She hurried into the bathroom and stood before the full-length mirror. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the button and gasped in shock. Her image in the mirror vanished but she was still there.

“Her personal cloak,” Cynthia whispered. She pressed the button again and her mirrored image reappear. “Monica, I love you more than ever. Thank you for this wonderful gift.”