"INVITED ESKIMO TO VISIT SUBMARINE," the vocoder howled its chronological synopsis from what must have been Russian naval reports. "ESKIMO STATED HAPPY TO VISIT INSIDE OF WHALE. SUGGESTED BEFORE GOING MUST CLIMB LEDGE TO GET OUTER PARKA. RESTRAINED BY A RUSSIAN. ESKIMO STATED MUST TELL WIFE AND NEW BABY -- DESCRIBED AS QUICK BABY SINCE LAST MOON. TWO RUSSIANS RESTRAIN ESKIMO."
The screen was blank. Evidently the cameraman knew what not to film.
"SEARCH FOR REPORTED WOMAN AND CHILD INTERRUPTED," the vocoder howled. "HIGH CONTRAIL OF AIRCRAFT OBSERVED. SUBMARINE SUBMERGED. SHORE PARTY SCATTERED. ESKIMO VANISHED. LEAVING FOX FUR. HURRIED SEARCH FOR ESKIMO UNSUCCESSFUL. SHORE PARTY EVACUATED TO SUBMARINE. ALL TRACES OF LANDING ELIMINATED. CRATE OF AMMUNITION LOST. ONE RIFLE UNACCOUNTED FOR."
"Replay that part about the quick baby," Dr. West exclaimed. "Signal for more information about that ."
" --IDDEN BY RUSSIANS DETAILED QUOTE: THE TREACHEROUS ESKIMO INFORMED CAPTAIN GOGOL AND MYSELF THAT HE WOULD BE VERY PLEASED TO ACCOMPANY US INTO WHAT HE APPEARED TO ASSUME WAS A SPECIES OF WHALE BUT FIRST HE MUST BID FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE AND NEW BABY. WHEN I REMINDED HIM THAT HE PREVIOUSLY HAD INFORMED US THAT HE WAS THE ONLY ESKIMO ON THIS SIDE OF THE BOOTHIA PENINSULA, HE STATED THAT THIS WAS A QUICK BABY CONCEIVED LESS THAN A MOON AGO. NATURALLY OUR DILIGENT SEARCH PRODUCED NEITHER THE NONEXISTENT MOTHER NOR THE NONEXISTENT CHILD."
Mao III was pressing index numbers which had been projected during this quotation from the naval report, and the vocoder howled inane statistics about the Boothia Peninsula and the periods of the Moon. Mao III shrugged. "Evidently there is no additional information filed in the category: Quick Babies, Boothia Peninsula."
A still photograph showed men in white coats standing proudly in front of a darkly oval patchwork reconstruction. Seen as a whole, the outer shell had less resemblance to a huge mollusk's shell. Darkly charred, it loomed behind the white-coated men.
"LOCATION MURMANSK. MINUS THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS," the vocoder howled. "RECONSTRUCTION IN MAXIMUM SECURITY SITUATION. CHEMICAL ANALYSIS BY POLITICALLY RELIABLE SOURCE. THEORIZE LIQUID SHOCK-ABSORBING LAYER BETWEEN HEAT-DARKENED OUTER SHELL AND WHITE INNER SHELL. DUE TO HIGH LEVEL OF INTERNATIONAL COOPERATION IN ASTRONOMY IN 1970s INNER POLITBURO DECISION TO WITHHOLD ALL INFORMATION FROM RUSSIAN ASTRONOMERS. POLITBURO DEBATE SIGNIFICANCE OF NO U.S. EXPEDITION TO CRASH SITE. PENDING POLITICAL CLARIFICATION, OBJECT CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET. FOR MAXIMUM SECURITY FURTHER SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH TO BE CANCELLED. FILMS ORDERED BURNED."
"But impossible to keep a secret in Russia," Mao III's voice laughed, "especially in the 1970s when that object fell, when Maoism was again the wave of the future, and friends of China, old Stalinists, were reemerging everywhere. As you saw, even the motion picture films, which the Inner Politburo of revolving revisionists ordered burned, evidently were secretly copied by alert Stanlinists in the pay of Chinese military intelligence agents. With so much corruption in Russia, I suspect your CIA also possesses ancient copies. But those who sent you here would not confide in you, my tapeworm."
On the screen, microphotographs showed the molecular structure of the inner shell. "CARBON-OXYGEN-CALCIUM," the vocoder overly condensed a long scientific report. "MICROSCOPIC SMEAR LIFE SUBSTANCE INNER SHELL. POSSIBLE HEAT-DEGRADED PROTEINS. DNA UNIDENTIFIABLE. DISARRANGED BUT POSSIBLY HUMAN OR ANTHROPOID PATTERN. NO EVIDENCE OF CAUSE-DISAPPEARANCE OF THEORETICAL LIFE-FORM IN SHELL."
"I am more free than my computer to theorize," Mao III laughed. "That barbarian Eskimo, when he poked whatever was mashed within that inner shell, probably sucked his finger. Then hungrily smiling he ate the strange meat without a bellyache. I hope it was only the remains of a NASA chimpanzee and not an astronaut."
"INNER POLITBURO DECISION BY VOTE OF 4 TO 1," the vocoder howled, "ORIGIN OF UNKNOWN OBJECT WAS U.S. BECAUSE NO U.S. INVESTIGATION OF CRASH OBJECT MUST BE PROVOCATIVE U.S. STRATEGIC HOAX, VOTE 3 TO 2. POLITICAL RESULT UNPREDICTABLE, VOTE 5 TO 0. PROVOCATEUR SHELL TO BE DESTROYED AT ONCE AND NO FURTHER COGNIZANCE."
"Even so, a beautiful hoax," Mao III laughed. "For once, you American bunglers nearly were able to keep a secret from the Russians -- and even from us. In the years since then, our friends of China at Cape Kennedy and at Vandenberg never were able to collect reliable information as to just how the hoax was secretly constructed, launched and deliberately crashed. In fact, we never have found the evidence of U.S. origin. Do not look so discontented because the CIA did not inform you. After all, this CIA hoax was perpetrated about thirty-eight years ago, in 1971."
Mao III's voice was smooth as poisoned honey. "Even now, you would not be informed of its secret historical malfunction because you were to be parachuted into China, where the CIA still thinks we are retarded angry children who know nothing. But I assure you that such a hoax never could have been consummated, even in those days, upon alert Maoist scientists."
Dr. West said nothing.
"You are wishful thinking it was not a hoax," Mao III taunted, "because your life -- your beliefs tremble on a pinpoint hope that something which fell upon the Boothia Peninsula will confirm your monomaniac insistence that Esks are not human. Murderer, you would lunge anywhere for evidence of nonhuman origin to justify your hatred of the Esks. You would embrace any obvious U.S. hoax. Always you would clutch false evidence that Esk origin is from the sky, because that is what you need to believe -- that Esks are nonhuman. Otherwise you would be forced to see yourself as the rest of the world sees you, you convicted mass murderer. See yourself as you are, monomaniac murderer, leave me, tapeworm. Go! Leave this vault."
"You bastard," Dr. West gasped. "You can't wear me down with talk. You can't drive me insane. I won't have a heart attack because of you. If your spies in America could find no evidence of construction and launch in America -- of a nonmetallic object of large size -- I know damn well it wasn't built in America. It was no hoax built on this Earth. And I'll tell you this. The crash wasn't investigated by an American search party because sophisticated radar would have told the Air Force it was not a metallic object. It would have echoed radar pulses as if made of stone. Maybe the Russian radar of that period was not able to discriminate, and they thought one of our space experiments had fallen. Curious, like cautious vultures, they sent the sub. Undoubtedly U.S. forces had crossed off the atmospheric streak as only a stony meteorite."
"Tapeworm, don't you wonder why the fall-streak of such a large meteorite did not attract an American scientific expedition?"
"I -- that was years ago, in the 1970s. I -- " Even in his heart-pounding anger Dr. West realized from Mao III's quick thoughts that the orange flashing light on the telescreen indicated a high priority telesatellite transmission.
On the telescreen appeared a symbolic dove of peace, then a film clip of a peaceful wheat field dimpling in the breeze, and a peaceful baby smiling in living color, its arms outstretched to the world, then the American flag gently waving, while the audio played: "Oh, beautiful, for spacious skies -- " All this was an introductory film clip, a station break via hundreds of U.S. Information Agency satellites sprinkled throughout the heavens. Shielded from the jamming of rival foreign teleinformation services, the U.S. telesatellites were relaying on all eighty-two channels down to every square foot of the Earth.
Magnificent redwood trees appeared against the sky, and dissolved into a friendly faced man standing with his hand resting on the shoulder of a smiling boy, a boy who was deeply tanned and slightly Oriental around the eyes so that he could be recognized as almost any nationality.
Smiling into the teleprompter, the friendly man was speaking, and the telesatellites over China relayed a peaceful-voiced Chinese translation: "Friends, I bring you greetings from your friend, the President of the United States. I am his good friend. My job is Secretary of State. I want to be your friend. The President and all my friends throughout the world call me Dino. My friends, don't go away from your television sets. Please tell your children to listen. This important announcement also concerns them. The President of the Unite
d States has asked me to tell you how happy he is that the Chairman of the Chinese Federation of Nations has suggested a friendly teleconference."
The Secretary of State smiled through his transparent teleprompter and took a deep breath. "The President of the United States has asked me to tell you he feels honored that the Chairman of the Chinese Federation of Nations has invited him to a split-screen teleconference. Don't go away from your television sets. This historic meeting which promises greater happiness for all peoples throughout the world will be broadcast at this very same time tomorrow. You, your children, all ages will want to witness this historic meeting. Be sure to tune in -- "
Jagged static squealed off the sound, and momentarily distorted the smiling face of the Secretary of State as he was dissolved into majestic redwood trees. The American flag billowed in the sunset as Mao III switched off the broadcast and the picture contracted to a little bright spot which vanished.
"Tomorrow." Dr. West felt hollow and unprepared; there had been no mention of the agenda: were the subjects for discussion still being haggled over in Warsaw?
"Now the military will be forced to face the fact that I am -- insane. Insane to have suggested such a meeting," Mao III blurted. "The military will disconnect my external broadcast antenna. It stands undefended on top of the Winter Palace. They will not be sufficient fools to let me match myself against your robust President. Perhaps one of my understudies -- No, the generals are too cautious even for that. They will deny there was an agreement for a teleconference. China's prestige must be preserved. They will denounce your Secretary of State as a hoaxer. Then they will come down the elevator shaft and -- rescue me -- kill us both!"
Dr. West glanced at the guard lights on the console. Evidently the elevator shaft still was safely locked at the surface. If the console could be believed, the protective devices still were cocked
"It is a U.S. hoax!" Mao III blustered. "Your Secretary of State was afraid to mention that population limitation would be on the agenda. It won't be. Your Government already has gained a propaganda advantage. Now the CIA will create an incident. Perhaps an American ship will sink, and this will be blamed on our nuclear submarines defensively stationed off your coast. Your Government will use the television time tomorrow for a taped denunciation. Your President will not face me. How can he, when the agenda we sent to Warsaw requires a discussion of the International Esk Problem? Your Government fears I am going to suggest bilateral population limitation with quotas and international inspections of our respective populations of Esks."
Mao III ended triumphantly: "Any suggestion that the increasing number of American Esks should be limited would cause a political uproar in the United States. Any suggestion that their number should be reduced would cause revolution!"
"You're unfamiliar with the United States' way of life," Dr. West replied.
"No. You are. Admit that you haven't seen the United States for more than seventeen years."
"Dammit, let me see the United States!"
"But the ghastly collapse of Canada proves my foresight in China. From the first, I segregated our Esks in their own separate labor communes. There were two reasons for this." Mao III's hands moved on the console. "I'll show you. These are merely recent film clips from Canada, so you can deny your own eyesight. In Canada -- "
No! Dr. West thought forcibly. First show me the United States.
And Mao III's skeletal fingers obeyed.
Across the screen jiggled an electric bus as if filmed by a tourist. The neon advertising below its windows blinked: FINE FUNERALS FOR HUMANS OR ESKS; then ASTROBOY CONVIENIENT MINIMUM EXCRETABLE BREAD. The crowded bus turned toward the camera. Its destination tape read: WILSHIRE TO WESTWOOD. The film with an amateurish zoom enlarged the bus driver's calmly smiling face.
"You see," Mao III said triumphantly, "the bus driver is an American Esk. He is the capitalist solution to all the undesirable jobs for which a living wage had to be paid -- until the willing Esks appeared."
"FILMED MINUS SIX MONTHS," the vocoder of the Information Retrieval Computer howled, "BY STUDENT-VISITOR LOS ANGELES."
Mao III's finger shifted on the console, and Dr. West stared at a film of a huge white truck entering a suburban driveway of a high-rise apartment. As it stopped, a great white scoop-jaw above the cab of the truck reached forward and downward like a dragonfly larva's jaw. From the cab of the truck, a hurrying man in white emerged, seized a garbage can and emptied it into the jaw. The camera zoomed at the man's happily smiling face, an Esk. "With Americans wedded to the four-hour day," Mao III laughed, "how could all these necessary services function without Esks?"
Click, on the screen appeared towering condominium apartments beside the East River near the ancient United Nations building, and this more expertly handled camera explored past the Esk doorman into the ground floor lobby of the apartment building where a short-legged but attractively uniformed and smiling maid was walking toward the escalator.
"Another Esk." Mao III restlessly pressed a button, and an unsteady film showed a large concrete-block house. "SIOUX FALLS," the vocoder howled as the lens-view zoomed into the screened window. An American Negro family were sitting down to supper, and a neatly uniformed Esk maid appeared from the kitchen carrying a steaming platter of franks and sauerkraut. "An Esk," Mao III chortled. "I am so familiar with imperialist oppressor history. What a satisfactorily capitalistic solution! Esks are happy to be at the bottom of the American peck order."
Click, a dozen small Esk boys were shown industriously polishing an autocopter while an American boy and girl played on a revolvo-swing and their father lay on a lawn dais officiously gesticulating to an obedient Esk who was laden with a lawn rake, a fertilizer injector and a dandelion extractor.
Click, along a college dormitory hall a svelte-hipped Esk maid balanced a tray of martini-shaped glasses through a Princeton-bannered door chalked FRESHMAN STUD-Y RUM, and she didn't come out.
Click, the sign on a huge new windowless warehouse read: ESK RESCUE MISSION #9. Chicago Aid-to-the-Esks Society. And underneath, Healthy Canadian Imports. Also Fresh Raised Local Stock. At the bottom a pricelist was taped to the door: AIR EXPORT TO SOUTH AMERICA AND EUROPE. Wholesale Prices on Request.
"Damn!" Dr. West was sweating and laughing and shivering at the same time, horrified. "God! In a few years when there's no more countries to which this surplus can be exported -- "
"You are supposed to be the birth control expert," Mao III replied maliciously. "A scientifically humane solution such as forcible birth control injections still should be simple, if capitalist and revisionist oppressors are able to cooperate and behave rationally. But there is an unknown factor. Even rational Maoist scientists cannot explain it. In the first country to have a preponderantly Esk population, which was Canada -- "
Click, across the screen moved an impenetrable barbed wire fence stretching along the Saskatchewan prairie. Filmed from the U.S. side of the border, the fence bulged with dark clots, bodies in the barbed wire, on the Canadian side. Further behind the International Boundary, indistinguishable masses who appeared to be Esks stood waiting.
"MINUS FOUR DAYS," the vocoder howled. "U.S. TROOPS IN FOREGROUND REPORTEDLY GUARDING FENCE AGAINST RENEWED CUTTING ACTIVITY. GRAY-BEARDED HUMAN PRISONER REPORTEDLY SOLE REMAINING MEMBER NEW YORK SAVE-THE-ESKIMOS LEAGUE."
A close-up through the boundary fence showed skeletons, humans or Esks? Starvation or -- ?
"I can't stand to look at this. Let me look at Ottawa," Dr. West blurted, "where I was imprisoned."
Click, instead of the angry mob of Canadians who had reviled him seventeen years ago, the streets of Ottawa now were stagnant with starving Esks. Hordes of children were wandering in the streets. From a copter, the first film clip failed to show a single moving vehicle on the streets of downtown Ottawa. "MINUS SIX MONTHS," the vocoder howled. "NOW REPORTEDLY CITY POPULATION REDUCED. LACK OF TRANSPORT AND FOOD."
"But what happened to the Canadians?" Dr. West bleated.
Click, Esks were wandering in and out, as if the towers had become giant dormitories. "What happened to the real people? I knew some of the guards, when I was a prisoner -- "
Nona, he thought, all I see are Esks.
The Eskimo Invasion Page 38
