The Visitor

by Tony Harmsworth

  Yuri protested, 'But, Cadma. We all want be part of team.'

  'That may be so and, when the tour is over, I would hope that you would join me in Goonhilly as we develop our science facility. I am not saying goodbye, just calling a pause. I hope you will understand.'

  'Whatever you want after the tour, Cadma. I'm sure we’ll come running. It’s just such a shock,' said Reg.

  'And I shall be pleased to have you working with me, but not now. Thank you for helping me so much up to this point. It has been most valuable. It is late. You should go to your rooms.'

  Well, that was dismissive. I was speechless. Literally struck dumb. So hurt. We all stood to leave.

  'Eve, please remain. I have some questions,' Cadma said.

  In a daze of disappointment, I stopped my painful rise from the seat and flopped back down, gripping the top of my cane and trying not to let my damaged ego break free. I felt anger growing. I hadn’t devoted my life to his future to have it cast to one side now. Yuri and Reg wished us a good night and left.

  'What's going on, Cad? I'm hurt,' I said.

  'Sorry, Eve, let me explain.'

  'That would be good,' I said, wiping away a tear which had fought its way past my stoical demeanour.

  'I am worried about mankind and its reaction to me, and all I have read about President Parker tells me it is not going to get any better. I also have this English Archbishop to meet and am not looking forward to it. I cannot lie about my peoples' lack of spirituality.'

  'Let me help. Take me with you and I can try to advise. I’d be so hurt if you continued without me.'

  'Eve, I have been in communication with Philippe Parodi and have had him agree to free you from your ESA duties. I have negotiated a budget from the joint space agencies, and I will pay your salary so that you can work directly for me. Would that be okay with you?'

  'Of course. I thought you were abandoning me.'

  'Never. But I needed your agreement.'

  My heart sang. I rebounded from my depths of despair. Nothing mattered to me now except Cadma.

  'What about Goonhilly? That’s so tied up with you and future science,' I asked.

  'I also spoke to Roger Clarke and he is happy for you to resume a variation on those duties when we return from my tour.'

  'So, what’s changing? It doesn't make sense.'

  'What is changing is that you are now co-opted as Dregednon ambassadorial staff, accompanying me, an ambassador. Being with me will no longer taint the United Kingdom with my views or opinions. Do you understand?'

  'I think so, but why now? Why today?'

  'I expect my meeting in Canterbury to be problematical and, even when we are past that, I have to be frank with President Parker, and his religion appears to deny my origins.'

  'I'll be with you.'

  'I know, and I will need you to gauge reactions for me. I have learned a great deal, but there are still nuances which could confuse me. I need to truly understand what is being said to me.'

  ««o»»

  I enjoyed a well-made latte and some biscuits at the Old Palace in Canterbury, while the Archbishop and some invited dignitaries gave Cadma a guided tour of the city walls and cathedral.

  On the journey from Paris we’d discussed, long and hard, some of the points and questions Cadma was to put to the Archbishop. I tried to impress upon him the importance of not trying to convert the Archbishop to atheism – that people of faith won’t convert on a whim. From his very first question, this would be a fascinating meeting and I’d be the proverbial fly on the wall.

  Cadma had to enter the back way into the Old Palace, just because of his bulk. The Archbishop wore a simple black outfit with dog collar, gold crucifix, and chain. I was pleased to see that, as I knew Cadma was not a fan of “religious garb” as he called it. Also with the Archbishop, was his personal assistant.

  'So, Nsyncadma, what do you think of Canterbury?' asked the Archbishop.

  'It is interesting to see the buildings. You call them “ancient”, but your civilisation is so young. Nevertheless, the cathedral is undoubtedly beautiful.'

  'So, Nsyncadma, what would you like to ask?'

  'Explain faith,' he said. The question was like a shot from a gun.

  The Archbishop sat back in his chair and thought for a while. It seemed a long time but was probably only thirty seconds. He chuckled.

  'Faith is very simple to explain, Nsyncadma. Even children have faith. It’s simply believing in something which cannot be quantified, touched or possessed. For instance, you might know nothing about gravity, but when you see an apple fall from a tree, you have faith that it will impact the Earth. If you fly in a jet-liner, you might know nothing about "lift" holding the wings in the air. You simply have faith that the mechanics will stop you from falling to the ground. I have faith in God and that he gave his only son's life to forgive our sins.'

  A good answer, I thought. Cadma and I hadn’t been able to imagine rehearsing any of this meeting, so I’d no idea how it would progress.

  'Tell me how your God fits in with the knowledge that humanity is not alone in the universe.'

  The Archbishop laughed, then said, 'But it’s God's universe, Nsyncadma. I’ve nothing to tell. He created it all.'

  'But your religious works tell that you are made in His image. What of me, then, and the Carpellums?'

  'You’re all God's creatures. You, too, are created in his image. It’s the spirit and soul which are important, not your number of legs, arms or the shape of your body. We clearly demonstrate that every day on Earth. People of all sexes, races, cultures, and colours believe in God. Why not you too?'

  'But we have never had a belief in a deity. There is no evidence for a deity.'

  'The evidence is all around you, Nsyncadma. Perhaps God has sent you to us so that you may learn about his love for you.'

  My God, the Archbishop's answers were clever. Where would Cadma go from here?

  'You tell me the evidence is all around, why then are children starving in many of your world's countries? Why is violence so prevalent around the Earth? Even your Bible tells of stoning women, sacrificing children, smiting whole populations. Your God used an impossible flood to wipe out the majority of life on Earth as a punishment. Were there no good people among so many?'

  'But that is not God who is doing most of these things, it is mankind. It is us who are failing to feed the starving, and warring with each other. As for old Bible stories, well, they were told in context and shouldn’t always be taken literally.'

  'So, the Bible is not the word of God?' said Cadma.

  'Not always, no. It is man's interpretation.'

  'What about the afterlife and your sure and certain knowledge of a resurrection?'

  'Let me return the question to you, Nsyncadma. Can you prove that people are not resurrected into a different state after death? Even your people?'

  'There is no evidence for it, and it is impossible to prove a negative.'

  'Yes, there is evidence. God tells us it is so in the Bible! That is the evidence,' the Archbishop showed glee in his face. He must have felt that Cadma had walked into a trap of his own making.

  The arguments went on for more than an hour and Cadma had not won a single point. I’d warned him that it would be so, but I was certainly impressed by the Archbishop's command of the situation. I supposed if he couldn't stand up for his faith, then nobody could.

  Time was up if we were to get to Gatwick airport in time for the flight. Goodbyes were said and Cadma promised to return with more questions in the future. The Archbishop said he'd love to meet him again, and that he’d always be ready to welcome Nsyncadma, as a lost soul, into the church.

  I smiled inwardly at his audacity. I wondered what Cadma was thinking. He'd certainly been admirably out manoeuvred by the Archbishop.

  34 Washington

  From London Gatwick, we boarded our specially adapted Airbus for the long haul to Washingt
on where Cadma had been invited to address Congress. He and I had been working on his speech. Mr Clarke again offered assistance, but Cadma refused all offers of help except mine.

  He was adamant he didn't want to damage by association, any person or country who assisted him. I was the exception to the rule, I guessed. I hoped that it meant I’d become as special to him as he now was to me. I felt most flattered.

  I caught most diplomatic issues within his speech, but it would only work if he didn’t ad lib. His calling the man in Moscow an 'uneducated human' showed he didn’t always consider potential consequences and I was glad it hadn’t been said in the USA. Here it would’ve gone viral. Because it was said in the Kremlin treasury in Russian, it seemed he’d got away with it. Had Cadma realised he could avoid criticism with such an action in Russia? I was sure his meaning wasn’t accidental and equally sure it wasn’t lost on the Russian Foreign Minister.

  Cadma seemed incapable of being annoyed. I’d wondered if the Archbishop's total dominance of the Canterbury meeting, would have an effect on the alien, but no. He did, however, now appreciate the difficulty of winning any arguments which involved "belief". He’d told me he’d expected it to be much easier for logic to overcome belief, but now realised it was actually impossible, owing to human conviction. A surprise for him.

  By the time we arrived in Washington, I was becoming increasingly concerned I might miss some diplomatic issue and allow Cadma to fall into some trap laid for him by the media. The meeting with the Archbishop had been private, but we’d several journalists travelling with us who’d report almost anything he said. I did my best to caution my alien friend to think twice and speak once. His response was his stilted guffaw. 'Evelyn, I fear you are worried about me becoming too human!' he said.

  ««o»»

  It was wonderful to visit the White House and, with millimetres to spare, Cadma managed to enter the Oval Office to meet President Parker.

  When the President asked me to leave for a private chat with the alien, I stood, leaned on my cane and was about to go when Cadma spoke, 'Mr President, I am delighted you would like to speak with me alone, but Doctor Slater is my friend, confidante, and advisor. I would like her to stay in case anything said is unclear to me.'

  The President was clearly taken aback. This authoritarian President wasn’t used to having his authority usurped in his own office. That something might be 'unclear' to Cadma was an obvious nonsense to me, but would the President have realised it was no more than a subterfuge? I think Cadma wanted me there as a witness.

  'As you wish, Nsyncadma,' he said, leaning back and folding his arms in an obviously defensive gesture. Did Cadma recognise body language?

  Whether the President said or asked all he would’ve done if he'd been alone with Cadma, I cannot possibly say, but I was glad I was there when Cadma decided to confront the President over his own integrity.

  'Mr President, I have been reading about you extensively. You have had a most interesting life and I was intrigued to discover how you made your way to becoming the head of state. I am puzzled, however, that it is said you believe in a religion which claims the universe is only six thousand years old. How do you equate such a belief with my existence?'

  My God, this promised to be interesting. I cringed internally. No good could come of it. Was Cadma deliberately trying to goad the politician?

  'I think, Nsyncadma, we should leave our religious beliefs out of our conversation.'

  Wow. A really diplomatic reply. Unlike the Archbishop, the President was not going to argue religion.

  'But Mr President, I am concerned that your beliefs mean you think I might not have travelled several hundred light years to get here and have not been in the solar system for over one hundred million years. You have seen photographs of the Earth from orbit, taken in antiquity. It worries me that the leader of so many people can be in denial. I am not asking for a public announcement that your religion is wrong but would appreciate your private affirmation that you do not disbelieve me, personally. That would be sufficient. It would be difficult for us to continue this conversation if you have no trust in me as a person.'

  I’d cautioned Cadma about taking this line, but he was obviously determined to make the point. He wanted to know how anyone in such a high position could be so ignorant of our natural universe. I wondered if the President truly believed his religion or was just giving it lip-service. I'd been told that the “religious right” was very important in his election.

  'I think our meeting is over, sir,' said the President who stood up behind his desk.

  Oh dear, this was bad. Very bad. I heard several doors opening behind us as well as one to the left, from which emerged an armed guard.

  'Thank you for seeing me, Mr President,' said Cadma as if he were unaware of what was going on around us.

  Several individuals entered through the various doors into the Oval Office, including another two armed, military men, in full protective gear, with enormous weapons, far larger than any I’d ever seen before. I’d no idea what they were and didn't think I really wanted to know.

  Two others gave the appearance of secret service to me, from the way they stood with their legs slightly apart, their crisp, plain, charcoal-grey suits, and their right hands holding the lapels of their jackets as if ready to reach in and extract revolvers. They even had the obligatory dark glasses.

  'Thank you, Mr President,' I said as I stood.

  'A pleasure to meet you again, Dame Evelyn,' he said with utmost charm, walking around his desk and shaking my hand warmly while gripping my shoulder with the other.

  We were ushered from the Oval Office, along a corridor and out of the White House. Our car took us to a prestigious hotel where we’d be staying overnight, as guests of the US government, before Cadma addressed Congress. We'd been invited to stay at the British Embassy, but Cadma had declined, privately telling me it was again because he didn't want anything he did or said to reflect on Britain.

  I began to worry about his speech. Would it be allowed to continue, or would it be cancelled at the last minute for some obscure reason? Would Congress deny the first ever dignitary from another world permission to address it? The UN invitation was not for a few months and they knew that. I guessed the West Wing would be in turmoil now we'd left the building.

  I'd no sooner unpacked than my cell phone rang. It was the Secretary of Defence. He asked if he could be sent a copy of Cadma's speech. It was an ominous request. They wanted to know what he was going to say.

  I asked Cadma, he agreed, and I sent the attachment. I knew there was nothing too contentious in the speech which we’d agreed with each other, but I’d no idea if Cadma would adhere to the content. I feared he’d want to make changes after his meeting with President Parker.

  Once I'd sent the email and my reflexlet confirmed it had reached its destination, I quietly asked Cadma, 'You won't change your speech, will you?'

  'Evelyn, can you please call the hotel manager and ask him to bring a pair of wire cutters.'

  'What for?'

  'You will soon find out,' Cadma said, with not a little harshness in his tone. His alien-ness suddenly coming to the fore.

  Within minutes of my call, a smartly dressed man, about thirty years of age entered our suite and told us a porter was bringing some wire cutters. A young man arrived with the tool. They stood waiting for Cadma to speak.

  'Your name, sir?' asked Cadma.

  'I’m John Bryant, the hotel manager, sir. It is an honour to have you stay with us.'

  'John, can you hold the landscape painting above the fireplace away from the wall so that your assistant can cut the wires to the microphone which is hidden there.'

  The manager was horrified, but quickly recovered his composure and walked to the painting over the fireplace. Tentatively he lifted the bottom and called the porter over to clip the wires.

  'Give the microphone to Dame Evelyn, please. There is another attached to the
back of the couch and a third, a wireless version, attached to the back of the vase which contains the roses on the sideboard. There are two more in Dame Evelyn's bedroom, one under the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and another behind the headboard. There is a further microphone in the bathroom on top of the medicine cabinet. There are also cameras in the smoke detector above the window in this room, in the smoke detector above the bay window of the bedroom, and in the vent above the door in the bathroom. You will find the detectors are fake and can be simply pulled off the ceiling. You might need a screwdriver to open the vent above the bathroom door.'

  The manager called someone on his cell phone and said, 'Bring a folding ladder and screwdrivers to suite three-oh-one please and make it snappy. Really snappy! Drop anything else.'

  Thirty minutes later I had a camera, two fake smoke detector cameras, and six microphones sitting on a tray beside me on the coffee table.

  Cadma spoke in a measured manner. 'John, I am assuming you did not know about this invasion of our privacy and we will give you the benefit of the doubt. As the wireless microphones are still active, I am confident someone from your secret service will be here to collect them from you swiftly. We will now relax and enjoy your hospitality.'

  'Certainly, sir, I am sorry you’ve been inconvenienced,' and the manager, the porter with the gadgets, and the maintenance man with the ladder left our suite.

  'Cadma, I'm so sorry,' I said.

  'Evelyn, it is not your doing. What hurts most is the lack of trust. What did they expect to learn which I would not otherwise be prepared to tell them? I am what you call an open book. They only need to ask.'

  'Now, I must think. You go and get some dinner.'

  'I'll get food sent up, Cadma. I want to be here, so you can discuss things with me if you need to.'

  'Thank you, Evelyn. I appreciate it. Now I must work on my speech to Congress.'

  'Were our hotels in Moscow and Paris also bugged?'

  'No, no bugs, but there was an extremely powerful laser pointed at me during the meeting with President Gorelov.'