I, Alien

by Mike Resnick (ed)

  GALACTIC DATE: THAT NIGHT

  Success!

  GALACTIC DATE: 42

  Upon being set free by the rebels, Spot (depending on which time-keeping system you use) went home to his own space and time, or will go home to it, or is gaining mass and weight there. He intends to publish his findings on global warming and processed organ meat so that an interstellar exploratory committee can be established to examine the ramifications of his research. Lassie, remarkably well assimilated into Wafflish culture, is on her way back to Hollywood to resume her career.

  Meanwhile, I have been adopted by a member of the anti-execution rebel league, and she has provided me with the appropriate talismans to protect me from another episode of incarceration. I have filed a complaint against the ICOCR for their life-endangering negligence. For the time being, I am working on a comprehensive guide to With Wafflish customs so that other galactic fugitives may be better prepared than I was for the pitfalls of assimilating into this world.

  Back to Contents

  THE INJUSTICE COLLECTOR by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

  RECORD OF PROCEEDING

  Incident at Gray’s Brook

  Injustice Collector 0080 Presiding

  Testimony of Requesting Party

  They trusted us with their children.

  Later, they claimed they trusted us because we resembled animals from their world. Canines. I have seen representations of such things, and the resemblance is superficial.

  We are thinner, taller, and we do not stand on all fours. (Many of my people were insulted by this implication—that we could not walk upright—but I was more insulted by the look of the beasts: shaggy, unkempt, and that appendage at the base of the spine— the tail—looked vaguely ominous to me, as if the creatures were slapped together by a careless scientist.)

  It is true that we do not have bald skin as the humans do; ours is dusted attractively with fine hairs, making each of us distinctive. Our noses are larger and our mouths open beneath them—perhaps the most canine of our features—but we, as a people, have come to resent the word snout.

  As for the rest, we do not see ourselves as too different from the humans. We use our arms in much the same way, we have hands, we wear clothing. It is true that we do not wear shoes, but the bottoms of our feet are tough and hair-covered. We do not injure as easily as the humans do. Which, I suppose, is the heart of the problem.

  They came half a season ago. Their ships were shiny and silver, made of materials we had not seen before. Their leaders offered to teach us how to create such materials, but the lessons never happened—one of many such incidents. Among my tribe, the humans have became known as the People of Broken Promises.

  The humans created a settlement on the ice plain, not realizing, of course, that we were in summer, and the plain was at its best. Trees flowered, insects buzzed, and a thousand varieties of summer vegetation grew across the expanse. The air, thick with humidity, was nearly unbearable to us; to them, it spoke of comfort—the “tropics,” “paradise,” and other words that we did not then know.

  We did know that soon the fall would come with its rains, destroying all but the hardiest of plants. Those would die in the cold, buried beneath the sheet of ice that gave the plain its name.

  We doubted the humans would survive the fall, let alone the cold. We did not tell them of the cycle, believing that such warning would reward ignorance.

  That is why we did not contact the Injustice Collector at the theft of land.

  We believed justice had taken care of itself.

  Interruption in the Proceeding

  Two Cycles into the Requesting Party’s Testimony,

  A Breach of Protocol:

  Breach of Protocol by the creatures known as human require in-depth reporting methods not employed in two centuries of Injustice Collecting. The humans, it seems, are unfamiliar with the concept of Justice/Injustice. They believe such decisions might be rendered on the small scale, and as a result, have appealed to me in unorthodox ways, which under rules 7,765 and 11,235 I am obligated to report.

  As a result, my presence will intrude on the record of these proceedings. I beg the Review Board’s indulgence.

  —Injustice Collector 0080

  Explanatory Note:

  This meeting is taking place, as is customary in cases of cultural disputes, in the Great Mall of the Collecting Ship. Tour members of the Requesting Party, both male and female, stand to the left. Twenty members of the non-Requesting Party stand to the right.

  Both sides have been instructed in the rules of the proceedings, although for the two days of rules’ instructions, only two of the humans attended.

  5ince the number of humans has grown significantly, I can only assume the added eighteen were not briefed by their colleagues.

  [An Aside: Working conditions are barely tolerable. The Great Mall barely accommodates all of these bodies. As is mentioned in the opening testimony, these human creatures are as large as the MugwL. The crowd presses against my Decision Desk. The temperature in the Great Mall has risen significantly. The Collecting Ship’s systems are not designed to accommodate so many heat-giving sources in such a small area.

  [To complicate matters, both the MugwL and the humans have distinctive—and competing—odors. The MugwL’s fur stinks of rone spice—a sharp peppery scent that invades the nostrils—and the humans, beneath the coating odor of soap, give off a musk that burns the eyes. When I inquired, I was told that such an odor is called a “nervous sweat” and it cannot be controlled. Human suggestions to control the temperature were ignored as untenable. My suggestion that some of the human party leave was met with severe protests. However, if the stench worsens, I will be forced to cut the human presence in half.]

  The Non-Requesting Party is inattentive and disrespectful. They speak without tone—in something called a “whisper”—and believe they cannot be heard.

  They have obviously not met an Injustice Collector before. They seem to believe that because I am small and do not have features they can readily identify, I am somehow less than they are.

  Already, I can see why the MugwL find them so intolerable.

  The Breach of Protocol began when the MugwL Representative stated, “That is why we did not contact the Injustice Collector at the theft of land.”

  The “whispering” rose to an intolerable level, and one human, not one of the original two (I believe, since it is hard to tell—the bald skin is, as the MugwL implied, offensive), cried out, “We didn’t steal! We asked permission to settle there!”

  The MugwL Representative continued over the disturbance, adding his phrase, “We believed justice had taken care of itself.”

  At which another of the humans, one of the tallest, turned toward the MugwL so quickly that I feared violence.

  “You fucking bastard,” the human said—and judging by its tone, the words fucking bastard are an insult. “First you kill our children, now you tell us it’s our fault! Judge, this is all wrong. You gotta hear our case—”

  I clapped two of my hands for silence, and to my surprise, the human complied. Perhaps it was the spray of red light that flew from my fingertips. That seems to impress the lesser species.

  As I clapped with two hands, I used the other three to set the collection bag beneath the Decision Desk. It became clear to me in that moment that the humans do not understand the proceedings.

  I do not sit in Judgment, therefore I am not a Judge. I merely listen to the reports and determine to whom the Injustice has occurred. Then I collect it.

  Or rather, the bag does. Most of my efforts go toward corralling the bag.

  I try to explain this to the humans again (more confirmation that the initial human representatives did not report back to their colleagues), but the humans did not seem to understand.

  More “whispering” occurred, and a common sentence wound its way through the Non-Requesting Party: It’s obvious that we have suffered the injustice. Our children are dead.

  If ma
tters of Justice/Injustice were so easily determined, there would be no need for the Decision Desk. Again, I explain, but the humans seem confused.

  They seem to believe that the decision is a judgment which I would therefore make. They do not seem to understand the distinctions required by the customs of the Alliance.

  I call for a recess, insist that both Parties leave the Ship, and order scrubbers into the Great Hall to attempt to alleviate the stench.

  Then I transmit my request for assistance to the Board of Governors.

  I tell them I am concerned that I might commit an Injustice myself.

  Excerpts from the 500-page Gubernatorial Response to Inquiry Presented by Injustice Collector 0080 in regard to Non-Requesting Party Involved in the Incident at Gray’s Brook [Requesting Party Reference: MugwL Case 3345678221]:

  The self-named Humans are an unknown, unstudied species. A careful search of the records reveals that they have never been a Requesting, Non-Requesting, Peripherally Involved, or Bystanding Party in any Justice/Injustice proceeding . . .

  Cases involving unknown, unstudied species must proceed as if the species is sentient, according to Justice/Injustice standards ...

  . . . and so, to satisfy your request, we had to return to the earliest records of Justice/Injustice proceedings, in which species now known to us [but which were, at the time of the proceedings, unknown] established Justice/Injustice Precedent . . .

  . . . what the early Injustice Collectors learned was that the bags did not accept as an Injustice cases presided over by an Injustice Collector in which a Party of Unknown Sentience did not understand the intricacies of the proceeding . . .

  Therefore, certification continues in the Incident at Gray’s Brook, also known as Requesting Party Reference: MugwL Case 3345678221.

  Record of Proceeding

  Incident at Gray’s Brook

  Injustice Collector 0080 Presiding

  Testimony of Requesting Party [continued]

  Human children are curious creatures. They share some traits with the adults of the species, but no one would intuitively understand that such a small creature, less than a meter in length at first appearance, would eventually become the towering figures now standing to my left.

  In fact, we had no idea at the time of the incident that the creatures called “children” were also a type of “human.” We believed them to be a related Earth species, rather like the Canine we had referred to in our previous remarks.

  It is counterintuitive to believe these creatures would grow at such an astounding rate. It is also counterintuitive to believe that a group traveling the great distances that the humans traveled would bring the young of the species, carrying with it the very future of the species itself.

  We therefore request that the surviving children join this proceeding as the Bystanding Party—

  Interruption in the Proceeding

  Eight Cycles into the Requesting Party’s Testimony, A Breach of Protocol

  This protocol breach [and, I am certain, all others] are caused by the factors listed in the Second Cycle breach described above. I see no reason to repeat that finding here. In future breaches, I shall simply describe the breach, and continue with the Report of the Proceeding.

  If any member of the Review Board has an objection, I refer him to the Board of Governors’ Response to the Official Inquiry on the Humans [attached above].

  —Injustice Collector 0080

  “Your Honor,” said the human who, before this morning’s proceedings, introduced himself [they assure me that this creature is a male] as the one in charge. At my request, he wears a large red badge which lists his designation: John Graf. I do not know what these words stand for; I know only that I am to use them whenever I refer to the human with the red badge. “You can’t let them do this.”

  The “them” in that sentence refers to the Requesting Party. The “this” refers to the introduction of the “children” as the Bystanding Party.

  I cite regulations, as I have done for days now. The “humans” apparently have a short attention span. We discussed the rights of the Requesting Party in regard to the Bystanding Party on the first day of the explanatory proceedings.

  “No, sir,’ the John Graf human said, “I’m afraid you don’t understand. By our laws and customs, the only people who speak for our children are their parents.”

  I do not know this word “parents” and I tell the John Graf so.

  His bald skin turns an alarming shade of red, nearly the color of his badge, and I am concerned that my words have harmed him physically. The “whispering” begins again, and I beg for silence.

  Then I tell the John Graf that he may recess for medical treatment if he so desires.

  His tiny features press together, as if he is trying to make them into a MugwL face. “I’m in perfect health, Your Monor.”

  He sounds—and I am merely guessing—offended. I look down at the bag which I have stored under the Decision Desk to see if it detects an Injustice that I may have inadvertently caused, but it hasn’t even twitched.

  “I just find it appalling that you don’t know what parents are,” the John Graf says. His voice has risen to an intolerable level. “I’m opposed to a legal proceeding when our cultures are so different that we have to explain something as basic as parenthood.”

  I hold up my middle hand. “We are discussing ‘parents,’ not ‘parenthood.’ Please do not confuse the issue.”

  He makes a blatting sound, like the wind through a malfunctioning weezer engine.

  “I am not confusing any issue,” he says. “You people are. We can’t continue with this charade any longer.”

  Another concept I do not know. But I do not ask him to explain it, since I am beginning to agree with the MugwL’s characterization of the humans as People of Broken Promises. I ask the John Graf to explain “parents” and instead, he confuses the issue by adding two more unknown words into the proceedings.

  No explanation of “parents” appears to be forthcoming.

  “We’re leaving,” the John Graf says.

  The nineteen other humans nod in agreement. They all turn toward the Great Mall doors, but I do not open them.

  “You cannot leave when the Proceedings are underway,” I tell them. “The doors will only open in case of Recess or final Determination.”

  [An Aside: I wish for nothing more than the opening of doors and the disappearance of the humans. The stench seems worse this day. My eyes have been burning since the presentation began.]

  “We refuse to participate any longer,” the John Graf says. “This is a joke!”

  Joke. Another new word. I choose not to focus on it, but on the preceding sentence:

  “You cannot refuse to participate,” I remind him. “The time for that is past. You had from the moment the Request for a Justice/Injustice review was made to the Board of Governors to the moment the Collecting 5hip arrived to demand a cancellation. You did not make such a demand. 5o the proceeding must continue.”

  “Another stupid law no one bothered to tell us about,” the John Graf says, waving his arm downward, as if he is compacting a pile of snow.

  “We should’ve just killed the fuckers,” one of the other humans says, rather loudly. This is not a “whisper.” I believe it was meant to be heard. “Blasted them all to hell and back for what they did to the kids.”

  Murmurs of agreement thread through the human crowd. The MugwLs look at me as if they expect me to stop it.

  They should know better. If the humans take action, I can only observe. If the MugwLs or their survivors then believe that the human action was wrong, they can make yet another request for an Injustice Collector. I will become a Peripherally Involved Party, and will not sit on the Decision Desk.

  [An Aside: I confess that such a change would please me. I find this case taxing, and would like as much as the humans for it to end.]

  “It could’ve been an accident,” says the John Graf. “It’s pretty clear we don’t unde
rstand these aliens any more than they understand us. I’m not going to be in charge of a genocide, even when—”

  “Even when they kill our kids?” the other human asks.

  The John Graf expels air, and shakes his head from side to side. He is clearly in charge, but the others do not agree with him. I fear trouble of a type I am not equipped to deal with.

  I glance down. The bag has turned a light lavender. It is getting greedy. I slam its top closed with two of my hands, using the other two to twist the top into a knot. The bag fades, but I worry that this is just an act.

  The John Graf is leaning close to his compatriots. “We’ve been here for fifty years,” he says, as if this is important.

  It sounds strange to me. The MugwL claimed in his opening testimony that the humans had only been here half a season, and I see no evidence to the contrary.

  But the other humans do not disagree with that characterization. In fact, many of them nod which, as their representatives informed me on the first day, is a sign of assent.

  “This is our home. Our children were born here,’ the John Graf is saying.

  I am leaning toward the conversation, even though I hear it more clearly than the “whispering.” The MugwL watch me as if they expect me to do something about this exchange.

  At least the MugwL are smart enough to know that I will not interfere.

  “Leaving is not an option/’ the John Graf says. “We must peacefully coexist.”

  “Even if they kill our kids/’ the vocal human states. Although the words sound like a question, they are not.

  “That’s what we’re here to determine,’ the John Graf says. “Whether it was intentional or not. Right?”

  At this last, he turns to me. He seems to be expecting a Judgment again, but I do not give it to him.