by Rob Mclean
The audience cheered and clapped riotously. The envoy held the podium firmly in his hands. He stood scrutinizing the audience, and to Akil, it appeared as if he was basking in their outpourings of awe and admiration. He was certain that he saw a faint smile flash across the envoy’s face.
The envoy held up a hand to regain the crowd’s attention and to call for silence. The noise quickly died down, and once more he had the planet’s undivided focus.
“With this much power comes much responsibility,” he stated as if reminding everyone of something they had always known. “We all have to ask ourselves, ‘Are you willing to take on the responsibility that using these technologies will entail?” He posed the question rhetorically and so continued straight on.
“For our part, we know that we cannot be satisfied that you are ready for such responsibility until you have made at least one change to your civilization.”
The crowd had fallen totally silent. Akil knew that both he and the rest of the world were about to be given the terms of the alien’s agreement. He knew that such a gift of technology would not be free. They must want something from us, but he couldn’t think what it might be. They had said that they didn’t want our planet and that it was toxic to them, so what could it be?
The envoy had paused to give the people time to ponder. Now he held out his palms, almost pleadingly and said, “We need you to abandon your systems of religious belief. Abolish your churches, temples and mosques. Reject the superstition of the past and step into the future.”
No one made a sound. The crowd watched in stunned silence. The envoy stood with an inscrutable expression.
“We know it may well be a difficult choice for some of you, but to us, the choice is clear,” he said.
From within the crowd, a lone man yelled out from the grandstand, “No!”
The crowd murmured, growing restless and agitated. Others cried out their protests and were joined by still more.
Security moved to quiet the discordant voices, but their numbers grew amongst the largely Muslim crowd. Scuffles broke out amongst the local people in the stadium seats. Personal bodyguards of the world’s diplomats stood protectively around their charges, alert to the erupting violence in the stands.
Akil watched as the camera showed a close up of the envoy’s face as he watched the pandemonium escalate. He showed no emotion as he turned away. It was as if he had fully expected this response to his offer and was not surprised at all by the human’s behaviour. Alternatively, it might have been that he had seen similar scenes played out in the past on other worlds across the galaxy when the same offer was made to them, but still he showed no regret.
Akil watched the envoy as he turned to shake the UN Chairperson’s hand. It appeared to Akil, by his animated body language, that the small man was profusely making the most humble apologies possible.
The envoy then turned to the Egyptian President. He could be seen speaking angrily, almost shouting at the alien envoy. Spittle was flung from his mouth in his fury. He finished by spitting on the floor in front of the envoy and turning his back to him. The envoy simply nodded and looked up to his lander vessel.
The cameras followed a small object as it detached from the lander and floated towards the ground. It resembled a scooter, but had no wheels. When it reached the ground, the envoy stepped upon it. He rode it back up to his lander vessel where the hull irised open to admit him.
Akil watched as the cameras alternated between the lander vessel, returning to the mother-ship and the rioting of the crowd, both inside and outside the stadium.
One of the guards turned to Akil, his face contorted with hatred. “Your infidel friend is not happy with us,” he said through the intercom. “He and all his kind can rot in hell.”
Akil hoped that they didn’t include him amongst the condemned, or he would never get out of this prison.
Chapter 22
The President of the United States of America swore. Her Wasilla Church minister would have been aghast, as she was not given to profanity, especially not in public, but her advisors hadn’t given her many alternatives.
She sat in the Oval Office of the West Wing. In light of the country’s current economic situation and her own party’s policy of fiscal frugality, she had not had the room redecorated. It still had the decor from the days of the previous administration. It had a faint smell of Pine-Sol disinfectant lingering under that of the lavender potpourri that sat on the coffee tables. Several huge white rose displays were her only touch to the room, and they added their own scents to the mix as well.
She sat behind the Resolute Desk facing five of her senior advisors. They included her Vice President, Mike Huckabee, a well groomed, square jawed, man with classic good looks, who sat in one of the high backed, leather upholstered, mahogany armchairs in front of the fireplace and opposite the President’s desk. He shared many of the President’s religious convictions as he was once a preacher.
The Whitehouse Chief of Staff, Douglas Branstone, and the National Science Advisor, Flora Haig, sat on one of the light brown cotton covered couches. Directly in front of them and at right angles to the President’s desk sat her National Security Advisor, Pieter Van Nispen and her Chief Economic Advisor, Professor Anton Coombes. She had summoned them to this informal meeting in preparation for an imminent Cabinet meeting.
“I’m sorry, Madam President, but I don’t see that we have any option but to do as they ask,” Branstone, her Whitehouse Chief of Staff stated. He was a loyal follower of her political rise and had helped her through the many challenges she had faced in becoming the first female US President. As such, she greatly respected his advice, but still it angered her.
“I’ll be damned if I’ll let a bunch of jumped up aliens dictate terms to the greatest nation on Earth.” President Palin slammed her hand down on the antique desk.
“With all due respect, Madam President,” the National Science Advisor put in, “that is probably just what the Mayan Sun King said when the Spanish conquistadors arrived.
The President knew the athletically trim, forty-something Ms Haig as a Machiavellian politician and opportunistic lobbyist. She admired the woman’s hard-nosed approach as it mirrored her own. Her almost obsessive devotion to her career had secured funding for a number of her pet projects through political horse trading, but had failed to win this administration over to her views on stem-cell research.
The President stood, straightened her glasses and asked the assembled group of advisors, “Is there nothing we can do?”
“Madam President, there is a Defence Department meeting of the Chiefs of Staffs tomorrow,” said her National Security Council Advisor, Van Nispen. “However I’m fairly sure they will want to rule out a military option.”
“Why can’t we just nuke that sucker?” she asked, deliberately doing her best Texan drawl.
Van Nispen smiled slightly, his wrinkles deepened on his weathered face. His thinning white hair that was combed over his balding dome was smoothed down sufficiently so it didn’t move when he shook his head. “We have no idea of their capabilities. The consequences could be devastating, not only for this nation, but potentially for the entire world. Who knows if they differentiate between our nations?”
“The Security Advisor is correct, Madam President,” said Ms. Haig, “since we don’t know what they could do to us in retaliation, I too would strongly advise against any military option.”
The President nodded her acknowledgement. “I wasn’t really being serious, you know. So where does that leave us?”
The Vice President, Mike Huckabee, cleared his voice. “Madam President, if it is of any consolation, this meeting is being mirrored by governments all over the world. They are all grappling with the same issue.”
“But not the Chinese,” said Professor Coombes, the Economic Advisor, a balding, bespectacled, book-wormish man. “Reports are in that they have, just this hour, declared themselves an atheist nation. Also North Korea, Vietnam and Mongolia.”<
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“Goddamn!” said President Palin. “Those commie bastards.”
“You mean those crafty opportunists,” said the Security Advisor. “The Chinese and their friends always had a ‘no state religion’ policy. They have simply run with this opening and are going to milk it for all they can get.”
“So where does that leave us?” she asked. Her advisors shuffled silently before the National Science Advisor spoke up.
“We could flatly reject their offer, and that would leave us behind all those countries that do. We would join the likes of Egypt, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Turkey and a whole swag of Islamic countries throughout the Middle East and Africa who have all come out rejecting the alien offer. We could become some sort of a giant Amish-like nation. We might hope to live on the income from Galactic tourists visiting our quaint backwater.” The Science Advisor was being sarcastic, but the President didn’t rise to the bait.
“I could live with that,” she said. “We could declare ourselves an eco-friendly, carbon neutral tourist destination, and we’d all be at peace with God. I like it.”
Ms. Haig shook her head. “I doubt it would fly with the voters though. In recent surveys, the percentage of non-religious in the US has risen from 14% in 1990 to 24% in 2008.”
“But that still leaves 76% who are believers,” the President said.
“Yes, but of those ‘believers’ only 28% actually attend church regularly. That leaves only about 48% of the American people who you wouldn’t call true believers,” the Science Advisor summed up.
“So you’re saying we have about a quarter who definitely believe, another quarter who definitely don’t…”
“And about half who say they do, but their actions speak otherwise. These people often say they believe when asked in surveys because it is expected. There are many societal pressures to at least say that you believe. Besides, many see it as the safest thing to say.”
“I didn’t realize that there was so little faith in America,” President Palin said. It was hard to tell if she too was being sarcastic.
“But those figures were before the alien arrived. It is one thing to have a fringe group of rabid human atheists denying God, but when a technologically advanced, galaxy wide civilization is saying the same thing, they gain a whole lot of credibility.” The Science Advisor’s tone suggested that the whole issue had just been settled conclusively, leaving no room for the President’s personal preferences.
The expressions on the faces of the rest of the advisors confirmed her position. The President turned to study the view across the southern lawn, out of the Oval Office window.
It was the quiet Economic Advisor who broke the silence. He cleared his throat and shifted his glasses.
“But the alien envoy didn’t actually say to reject God. He only said to reject religion. There is a difference.” Thoughtful silence followed his comment.
The Chief Advisor spoke up, “That might give us a bit of wriggle room, if we were to put this to the people.”
“You’re suggesting we go to the next election as the ‘God’ party?” asked the Science Adviser incredulously.
“Just examining options,” he replied.
“We’d get decimated. No one would vote for us. We’d be seen as an archaic left over from the pages of history,” continued the Science Advisor.
“May I remind you all,” said the President, turning to address her advisors, “that this nation was founded on religious belief? I for one don’t think that the people will be so quick to discard their heritage.”
“The next elections aren’t for another three years or more. The people may have gotten over this current crisis by then,” said the Vice President.
“Furthermore, there has never been an atheist elected to office in this great nation,” the President continued.
“I don’t think there has ever been an openly atheist presidential candidate either,” said the Vice President in support of his chief.
“If we forget the whole God and religion thing,” said Professor Coombes with a weary tone in his voice, “you must see there is still the not so small matter of all the technology and the consequential economic benefits we would be forfeiting if we don’t take up their offer.”
The Science Advisor nodded vigorously in agreement. “Even if their technological gifts could bootstrap us forward only a few decades, the economic advantage over todays would be huge.”
“It would be like comparing the steam-powered economy to the current one,” added Professor Coombes, getting more animated.
“More likely it would take us over a couple of centuries to develop these things, especially at the current level of funding,” Ms Haig said pointedly.
President Palin sat back down behind her heavy wooden desk. She crossed her legs, sat up straight, as if she were in church.
“I have every faith in the brilliance of our scientists and researchers to discover these technologies for themselves.” Her posture defied anyone to gain-say her.
The Science Advisor was lost in her own thoughts and was not aware of the President’s tone.
“Simply knowing that such technology is possible, does make it easier for our scientists to research it, given the appropriate funding,” she shot a quick look to the President, who frostily ignored the implied shake-down. “However it would all take time and money. During which, our Chinese friends would be way ahead of us.”
“Don’t forget the Europeans and the Japanese,” said Van Nispen, the National Security Advisor. “Our sources indicate they are likely to be accepting the offer.”
“Aren’t the Europeans Catholics, or at least Christians? And I thought the Japanese were Buddhists?” said the Vice President.
“The Professor is right,” said Ms. Haig. She put her briefcase onto the walnut coffee table between the two opposed couches and rummaged through it for a wad of notes. She kept speaking as she searched. “There is a correlation between socio-economic prosperity and lack of belief in God. According to a 2007 paper by Zuckermann, the richer the country, the higher the degree of individual and societal security, the more likely its citizens are to be atheists. Conversely, the poorer the country, the greater the gender inequality, the higher the infant mortality rate, the greater the belief in God.” She produced copies of the report and circulated it to everyone.
People around the room took in the information. No one disagreed with it strongly, but it was plain to see that it was not easy for the President and her deputy to accept.
The Science Advisor continued, “The two main exceptions are Vietnam, a relatively poorer country with over 80% non-believers in God, and Ireland, a wealthier western nation with only 5% non-believers.”
“But looking at these figures, the United States is ranked towards the middle. We have a smaller number of non-believers than the rest of the western nations,” Branstone, the Chief of Staff pointed out.
“It is true that we are a bit of an anomaly as well,” conceded Ms. Haig, “but it does point out that we are one of the most unequal of the post-industrial nations. We have many sectors of our society that don’t have the same social welfare and much higher job insecurity that other western nations have, and we do have more crime and gun use as well. That, I think, would tend to skew the results.”
“So carrying guns makes you believe in God?” the President smiled.
“More like having a gun pointed at you increases your belief in God,” said Professor Coombes dryly.
“So praise the Lord and pass the ammunition?” the Vice President joked.
“I think that’s how they do it in theocratic societies like Yemen and Iran,” replied the Economic Advisor. “I’m sure we don’t have to go there.”
“May I also point out that there are virtually no atheists in prison?” said the Science Advisor. “And over half of the university graduates with tertiary degrees are atheists. Doesn’t that say something to you? The more civilized and educated you are, the less likely you are to believe in God.
Our alien visitor is simply further along that continuum. I therefore believe that their motivation is altruistic, and my advice is that we should accept their offer and reject religion.”
The Professor nodded his agreement. “The economic benefits are too great to ignore, especially in light of our massive national debt. We simply can’t afford not to accept their offer of help. That is my advised course of action too, ma’am.”
Both the Science and Economic Advisors sat resolutely facing the President. No one spoke as the President’s eyes scanned the other faces in the room. Vice President Huckabee frowned and hung his head. The Chief of Staff examined the red, white and blue threads running through the couch, and the National Security Advisor stared at his feet, not wanting to meet the President’s ire.
The President rose and walked around to the front of her desk.
“I appreciate your honesty and candour,” she said smiling politely. “It is, after all, what you are paid for. I hear what you have told me, and your advice will, as always, weigh heavily on my mind.” She walked towards the eastern door and held it open. “I will take it into account as we contemplate the direction this nation should take.”
She opened the door. “I thank you for your time.”
The advisors understood that the discussion was over and they were being dismissed. Two of them rose abruptly, said their goodbyes and left through the door that President Palin held open for them.
Van Nispen, the elderly National Security advisor and retired Admiral, leaned in close to the Vice President’s ear and whispered in it briefly while the other two were leaving. He then followed his fellow advisors out of the Oval Office.
