We talked long and hard about his meetings with world leaders and I cautioned him about how touchy individual countries were. I’d asked Tim to compile a list of books on international diplomacy so Cadma wouldn’t fall into any of the normal traps. George spent a lot of time with him, giving him the benefit of his diplomatic experience plus another experienced diplomat arrived from Canada to give Cadma a different perspective.
One day he confided, 'Evelyn, I am becoming concerned about the safety of you, Reg, and Yuri, if you are to be with me during my meetings when we arrive on Earth.'
'I'm safe. Don't be concerned. I’m fairly sure the others would feel the same. Unless you’d rather I wasn't with you. '
'Certainly not. My pleasure from my visit to your world would be vastly diminished without you. I like your view of the world; your advice and our confidential chats are so useful.'
'That's good to know.'
'However, I read more and more about the animosity towards me from some of the less conciliatory leaders of religions, sects, and some countries. There is an Islamic fatwã requiring my exile in several countries.'
'We decided not to hide world news from you, Cad, but you shouldn’t allow it to give you a jaundiced view of us all.'
'Take what happened with your Mario.'
Tears no longer welled up when I thought of him these days. 'His death was the exception, not the rule.'
'You said there was video of the event. I want to see it.'
'It's not very pleasant.'
'I appreciate that, but I want to see what transpired to better understand what you experienced.'
Using my reflexlet, I reluctantly searched the dark web for the uncensored version of what had taken place in the television theatre. It would upset me. He watched it, saw my body sprayed with bullets, and my current body racked by tears as I watched.
He said, 'I cannot believe a person could take the lives of others in such a callous manner. I am sorry that I upset you.'
I talked to him about other terrorist events going back over the last century, particularly the troubles caused by the IRA and the even more shocking Al Qaeda and ISIL terrorism. I found him videos of the aftermath of bombs, CCTV footage of mass shootings in the USA, and video of ISIL beheadings in the Middle East.
It culminated in me showing him the video footage of the twin towers in New York; the planes crashing into them and their eventual collapse. It took a long time for him to come to terms with the fact that the terrorist pilots had killed themselves and so many on their planes as well as those killed by destroying the skyscrapers.
He said, 'It is their confidence in heaven and an afterlife which has permitted them to do this. Our people have never had stories of an afterlife and those on Carpellum dismissed the notion early in their history. Perhaps it explains why we haven't had terrorism. In fact, there is no record of any violence at all on Dregednon, nor on Carpellum since their prehistory and that is only known of through ancient stories and poems.'
'None at all?' I asked.
'No, there is no point in violence. It achieves nothing. It would never be necessary to be violent towards another intelligent being.'
'What if someone wants something someone else owns?'
'That is jealousy, another concept neither we nor the Carpellums seem to experience. Why does no one tell these terrorists there is no afterlife? That would stop their stupidity.'
'Cadma, they believe there’s an afterlife and nothing anyone says will convince them otherwise. It’s written down in books like the Bible and Qur’an. They believe these books were written or dictated by the all-powerful creating deity.'
'But it is irrational, illogical, and there is no actual evidence. In fact, now that I have read those books it is clear humans wrote them, not gods. Ignorant humans at that, trying to explain the inexplicable randomness of life and the universe, and getting it badly wrong most of the time.'
'That, they’ll tell you, is the reason you need to have faith. God will reward you in the life to come.'
'It is childish.'
'Cadma, you may say such things to me but please do not repeat them to others until you have ascertained their religious beliefs. Not believing is called atheism and although many religious people will pretend they’ll respect your views, in actual fact many will despise you and won’t tolerate atheist arguments against their beliefs. In fact, I worry about your meeting with the Archbishop of Canterbury. Please be careful.'
'Will he not even listen to sense? I understand your point, Evelyn, but it does no more than reinforce their delusions if you do not take them to task. I must find out what causes these heads of churches to believe in impossible deities. Do your leaders believe in these things, too?'
'President Parker of the USA, probably the most powerful man on our world, is a Young Earth Creationist and believes the Earth, indeed the entire universe, was created for us a mere six thousand years ago.'
'Exclusively for humans?'
'Well, for God's chosen people – effectively humans. We’re supposedly created in His image.'
'But such a belief is demonstrably ridiculous. My other self was watching and photographing your planet over one hundred million years before humanoids emerged on Earth.'
'Again, it shows how faith cannot be shaken by logic or facts.'
'He cannot truly believe such nonsense. What about the fossil record?'
'Some say that fossils were put there by God to amuse us and continental drift was rapid until the coming of man, that geological layers were laid down during a very short time prior to man being created. Whether Parker, in his heart of hearts believes his religion, is unknown, but many of his born-again Christian sect do believe in young-Earth creationist theory, and you must be careful not to argue with them as it could make life unpleasant for you.' I placed my hand on the nose cone as I’d taken to doing when I wanted an attachment to him as an individual. It imparted its electrical tingle, like static to me. I found it comforting and he seemed to like the connection. I did it when I wanted our understanding to be mutual.
'I shall take care, Eve, great care.'
'I’m pleased to hear you will, because people's potential reaction to you causes me serious concern, and you can never win an argument with religious fanatics. I worry about the Archbishop. He won't be fazed by any of your arguments.'
'We shall see. However, once more I ask if it is wise for you to be too close to me during this tour of world leaders. It would be difficult to destroy me during an attack, but not you.'
'Your value to the world is far greater than mine, Cadma. Frankly, when Mario died my life as good as ended. It’s only working with you which has made life bearable once more.'
'Dear Eve, I am experiencing a great sorrow for you. We are kindred souls.'
'But neither of us believe in souls, Cadma,' I said and laughed.
'But its meaning is no less valid, Eve,' he said and laughed with his slightly stilted guffaw. I loved the fact he was learning to express humour.
He had all the emotions of a living creature. He meant every word. How would I be able to protect him? I’d a great fear some madman would eventually get to him and attempt to destroy him. He kept reassuring me his body was extremely strong and durable and I let him live with his confidence, despite my knowledge of the weapons which the superpowers could use to bring about his destruction. Cadma had thrown the failings of mankind into stark relief for me. I was becoming increasingly ashamed of my primitive species.
At least if I were to remain close to him, I’d go at the same time. I hadn't had such a bond since the shooting, and it made me morose. That evening I felt so much anguish over Mario and wished I hadn't watched that dreadful video of the studio massacre. The danger into which I was placing myself while I was close to Cadma, was making me realise I wasn’t prepared to lose him. I’d rather die with him. It was an affection akin to love.
««o»»
Alana, in a
full EVA suit, was assisting the Scaffy Wagon to close the top of the Arabella with Cadma inside. Yuri, Reg, and I would sit with Cadma as if he were a human passenger, although taking up more room.
The Arabella moved sleekly away from the Cluster, made a slow pass of the space station so I could explain what each of the modules were for, and once the distance from the ISS had opened to about two hundred metres it began its automatic descent to Earth.
Unlike the Soyuz, the engine fired for almost thirty minutes. We were now falling like a stone. The craft orientated itself, so the heat shield pointed towards the direction of travel. The engines continually fired long, controlled thrusts. There were a few sparks and flames visible briefly, but our speed was reduced to a few hundred miles per hour without the frightening build-up of heat and scary roasting of the entire craft and its occupants. Inside, we felt no heat whatsoever during the descent.
Now we were in the atmosphere. Five wings, two on each side and a stubbier one to the rear at the top, were gradually deployed and we immediately noticed their effect as they bit into the air and the Arabella coasted towards the surface. The return of weight caused pains in my leg and arm. The abdominal pain seemed to be worse too.
There was aircraft chatter and the Arabella announced its location and descent path. Moscow air traffic control acknowledged, more for our benefit than for the spacecraft. We dipped down to a few thousand feet above the surface. There were more engine adjustments as we changed our aspect to the glide path. Now we were seeing the construction works of the spaceport in front of us as the Arabella suddenly and, somewhat unnervingly, swung nose up and dropped to the ground with nary a bump.
We were home, and Cadma would get his first experience of the surface of the Earth. Soon we’d find out if what he said about his antigravity motors was true. Would he hover above the ground as he said he would?
I knew the University of Reading was working on the principle of these motors – polarised electricity creating polarised electromagnetism. They told us that once you understood the former, the latter became a logical discovery. With the application of very little current, the motor would keep you about twenty centimetres from the ground.
33 Adoration, Hatred, and Suspicion
We poor humans had to be checked out in the spaceport medical centre while Cadma floated, twenty-two centimetres from the ground in the waiting room. It was so hard having to use a stick once more. My time in the Cluster had seen the strength in my leg deteriorate and I was advised to get back into a serious exercise routine or my mobility would continue to become more difficult. I was told to contact my consultant about the pain in my abdomen as soon as possible so I made a note to ring Indra when I was back in the UK in a few weeks. It certainly felt worse under normal gravity.
We climbed into the uniquely designed Rolls Royce. Cadma slotted neatly into his special area without any help at all. The design was perfect, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. Trust Rolls Royce to get it right. The vehicle pulled out of the still incomplete spaceport and onto the main highway into the Russian capital.
Along the route were small groups of people mainly watching and waving at us as we passed. Among them were a minority of less happy and noisier groups displaying anti-alien posters. I did my best to ignore them but knew Cadma must’ve noticed them. His visual sensors were far more sensitive than our eyes and he could now read and write Russian.
'Such hatred,' said Cadma. 'Why do they so dislike me? I have done them no harm. I have come to learn and to teach, to give technology and offer goodwill.'
'Ignore them,' said Reg and Yuri, almost in unison.
'Most of them love you,' I said reassuringly.
Roads must have been specially cleared for us. Our police escort cut through the seething mass of vehicles trying to conduct their daily business.
Eventually, the Rolls descended the slope beneath the high Kremlin wall and turned into the government complex.
'Beautiful buildings,' said Cadma.
Yuri said, 'Yes, I hope able let you tour them after meeting President Gorelov. They say it facilitated.'
We were all shown into the most ornate, gilded room lined with guests on each side. Awaiting us at the end, were the President and his immediate aids. They stood as Cadma floated along the centre of the room towards them, incongruously looking like a huge, gold and silver dart seeking a target. The target was the stocky, round-faced President and his far younger wife who looked like a supermodel. Grim military men in uniform and suited ministers stood either side of the couple and behind them.
In Russian, the President said, 'Honoured guest, Nsyncadma, welcome to Russia.'
Reg only had minimal rudimentary Russian, so I interpreted for him.
In the most perfect Russian accent, according to what Yuri told me later, Cadma replied to the President, 'I am honoured to meet you Mr President. I am glad to have been brought from Mars by your countryman, Yuri Bulgakov, to meet you in this beautiful room.'
Stilted conversation continued for about thirty minutes then the Foreign Minister showed us around the Kremlin.
A service lift took us down to the Kremlin treasury where Cadma floated out of the elevator behind the minister and into a room of wondrous things, ornate gold coaches and costumes made for Russian tsarinas and leaders. The Fabergé eggs were fascinating for all of us and other extraordinarily ornate weapons and ornaments were on display. Crowds of visitors followed us, but it was noticeable there was a considerable number of armed military police ensuring our safety.
At one point a visitor called to Cadma, 'Почему ты здесь чуждо? Что вы хотитеот нас?'
'What did he say?' asked Reg.
I interpreted, 'Why are you here alien? What do you want of us?'
An armed guard stepped up to the man and was going to bundle him away but Cadma turned, carefully so as not to hit anyone with his bulk, and answered loudly in Russian, 'Dear Russian citizen. I will answer you. I am here to learn from humans and to help you by providing my technology to your scientists and universities to improve the lives of everyone on Earth. Why do you worry about me?'
'You must want something from us. We beware Greeks bearing gifts,' he said as the guard stood with his rifle across the man's chest.
Cadma answered in a calm and measured manner, 'I am an explorer wishing to learn from other intelligent beings and offering my own knowledge in return. You have nothing to fear from me, kind sir. Explore your own heart and question your paranoia. It is not of my making. As for the Greeks, to whom you refer, they had nothing in their minds but the lust to conquer. Do not judge all as you judge them.'
Suddenly there was spontaneous applause from the crowd and the guard led the disruptive individual away. Cadma carefully turned back towards the minister who said, 'We apologise for the suspicion of our citizen, Nsyncadma.'
Cadma said, 'It is of no importance. It seems stupidity is a trait within some uneducated humans. Please continue with the tour.'
Whoops! Was my alien friend beginning to understand Earth politics? The sentence seemed more than a throwaway comment.
There were no more incidents during our Russian visit and Cadma seemed to be enthralled with the beauty and majesty of the buildings, the museums, the works of art, and exhibits in Moscow, Peterhof, and St Petersburg. He loved the fountains at Peterhof, and the famous animated peacock clock in the Hermitage was activated specially for him. Knowing the sophistication of the technology of his own construction, would such an object impress him? He used a single word, 'Beautiful'.
'We don't have art, Evelyn,' he said to me on one occasion, a real revelation. It was interesting that he appreciated the beauty in art and understood why we’d like to hang it in our homes. He said he'd like some art when he moved into Goonhilly.
Our world tour continued with a visit to Paris, where Cadma enjoyed several days sightseeing and much of the time was spent in the Louvre and the Musée d'Orsay. My alie
n friend was falling in love with art, although it seemed modern art was of less interest. The impressionists seemed to enthral him. What didn't impress him was high structures like the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe. He’d no desire to climb them even if he were able, although he appreciated seeing their design at a distance.
That evening, Cadma's relationship with us changed dramatically. He called the three of us into the lounge area of his suite in the fabulous Paris Ritz.
'Please help yourselves from the bar and take a seat,' he said.
None of us knew what this was about and Cadma had never previously offered us drinks or refreshments of any kind. Was he trying to become more human, or did he think it would put us more at ease? I suspected the latter. What was coming? This was ominous.
'I want to thank you all for accompanying me thus far on my tour. I really appreciate it, but I feel that a change is necessary.'
We exchanged puzzled glances.
'My dear friends, it is time for us to part company until such time as I take up my residence in Goonhilly. I fear that being in my company could be a not very healthy situation for you. I received more death threats today, and while damaging me would be extremely difficult, you are all much more vulnerable.'
Reg broke into the conversation. 'Cadma, I’ve no fear of being in your company.'
'No. Not me either,' said Yuri.
'It is not whether you experience fear. I am sure you are very brave, and I love your company, but my interaction with humanity is likely to become more problematical and I do not want you to associate yourselves or your nations with my opinions. It is not open to discussion. I would like you to return home tomorrow and leave me to my remaining tour.'
I was hurt, cut to the quick. Cadma was my friend. More than that, I thought we had a special relationship. How could this be happening?
The Visitor Page 29
