Godship

by Peter Ponzo

  "Maybe not to them?" she said, between mouthfuls of broccoli and melted cheddar. "What did you mean by that?"

  "By what?"

  " It's been years to us but not to them. That's what you said."

  "Oh, well, if they travel the galaxy at near-light speeds, then time goes slower. If you travel close to light speed then a year can seem like a few months. That's a well-known theory that's been around for a while. If I remember correctly, at 97% of light speed, three months to the traveler is a year for the stay-at-home. Maybe the aliens think they've been away just a few months. Anyway, I'm hoping that they'll show up nearby so we could speak to David. He'd surely have some fascinating stories to tell."

  Alas, that was not to be the case.

  At the council meeting, Harry read the communiqués from the Global Council. The Godships seem to be locating away from large population centers. It wasn't clear, yet, but some seemed to be hovering over desolate locations in Africa, South America and China. Places where there are few humans, mostly jungle or, sometimes, desert. That seemed strange. Were they after water? Obviously not. Then what? If no ship was near Burlington, then how would I talk to old man David? Maybe David wasn't even on one of these Godships. What then? As Susan so often pointed out, I was obsessed with the alien spacecraft.

  There was a long debate concerning the purpose of the return of the spacecraft. No one had a single creditable idea. It was decided that water couldn't be their goal. The locations seemed to be near dense jungle, where water was relatively scarce. At the end of the meeting Harry asked me to remain.

  "You need to go to London," he said.

  "What! Why?"

  "You're our expert on the Godships and they want you there." Harry seemed dejected.

  Although the Global Council usually met in Geneva, the Geneva building had a fire and was under reconstruction, so the location was changed to London.

  I could tell that Harry was disappointed that he wasn't asked to attend the meeting. I wasn't surprised that I was singled out. Although my celebrity had waned over the past few years, I still got phone calls from people writing articles on the Godship phenomenon, asking about the David-video I had distributed. Just wait until the most recent Godship arrival became known. I'd be expected to answer a million questions: How do they do the anti-gravity thing? Will stars be absent from the halo surrounding each ship? Why return again, now? Why hover over jungles? What is their purpose? Are we in any danger? Will sexual conduct be scrutinized? Will that old man be on board a Godship?

  I wasn't sure I'd appreciate the attention, especially since I didn't have any answers. Susan sure as hell wouldn't like the attention she'd get. On the other hand, Harry would revel in such attention. In fact, he had the ability to provide a reasonable response to every question, even if he didn't know the answer. Besides, he was a nice guy. Maybe he should go, not me.

  Part 2.3

  I had never been to London before, so was pleased to get the invitation to join the Global Space Council in its deliberations. Unfortunately, it was at a time when classes were in full swing so Susan couldn't come with me. She did however, pack my luggage with a variety of paraphernalia which she assumed I'd need. In fact, I knew I'd use just half of the clothes she packed. I appreciated the reading material: The War of the Worlds by H.G. Wells. Susan had a peculiar sense of humor.

  It was the night before I was to leave for London. "I was thinking," I said.

  I waited for Susan to stop reading and pay attention. She put her book down and smiled. That was my cue. "I think Harry should go to the Global Council. He'd love it and he deserves it."

  Susan's smile grew larger. I could tell she was pleased.

  "What do you think?" I said. "I'm not prepared to answer a thousand questions."

  Susan got up, walked across the room and gave me a big kiss on the forehead.

  "Did I ever tell you I love you?" she asked.

  "Not today," I said.

  While Susan watched, I phoned Harry and told him I wasn't feeling well and asked him if he'd be so kind as to go to London in my stead. There was a long pause, then he said "I'd love to go–and I hope you feel better soon. Please take care of yourself."

  Harry was a nice guy. I put down the phone. Susan placed a cold beer on my side table. She was happy. Harry was happy. I was happy. I hate going on trips without Susan. Besides, I made many people happy today. I knew that Harry was very, very happy. I felt good about myself for the first time in quite a while.

  I was determined to follow all Global Council developments via globemail from Harry, radio, TV and Earthnet broadcasts. By the following day, the media was filled with reports of Godships sighted across the globe. Amateur astronomers had taken pictures of the cigar-shaped vessels, short wave enthusiasts were convinced they received voice communications and the number of sex-cults had blossomed. What was very strange was the location of the ships: directly above almost uninhabited jungle. 'Almost', because the only human populations seemed to be aboriginal. Natives without modern conveniences, without electricity and, in particular, without means of communication. That meant that reporters, anthropologists and specialists of various stripes were invading these locations in great numbers in order to provide daily updates on Godship maneuvers.

  If it wasn't water the aliens were after, what was it? And what did less-than-civilized, primitive cultures provide that the general urban population didn't? I expected a flurry of reports from the Amazon rainforest, the African Congo, the jungles of Sri Lanka and the Daintree Rainforest of Australia. I suspect the indigenous peoples would not like the attention they'll be getting. In particular, I suspected that, by the time the Godships left, jungle soil would be littered with pop cans, plastic containers and fast food stands.

  The first concrete news I received was from Harry. He began by expressing his appreciation for giving him the opportunity to attend the Global Council. He said he felt inadequate among the other Council members until he had a chance to speak. I had given him all the notes I had intended to use as well as maps, videos and audio recordings. He said that, after he gave his presentation, he was surrounded by members asking a thousand questions. I knew that Harry would be able to handle the questions with ease. Harry is a good guy. I can't understand why I didn't like him and that was just a few months ago.

  Harry's globemail was recorded on my computer while I was at work and I spent much of the evening going over it. Susan would occasionally look over my shoulder or hand me a beer or a snack. Sandy, our delightful little mutt, lay on my foot. He was getting old and seemed to have taken a liking to me. According to Harry's messages, the Godships had abducted several natives in a manner similar to the abduction of old man David. However, there was no evidence of audio transmissions and certainly none of David's giggling laugh.

  It has never been clear what the aliens expected to gain from David's abduction and it was even less apparent what a native would provide. Susan had suggested a human zoo, implying humans of varying characteristics: civilized (that was David, I guess) and primitive. That seemed unlikely since the Godships had been around for years and David was the only 'civilized' person taken, as far as we know. Surely they'd want several samples, Caucasian, Negroid, Mongoloid...but they only took old David and he wasn't such a good sample of anything.

  After ten days, Harry returned and we had a meeting of our local council. Harry was splendid in his presentation. Even beautiful George was impressed and Bev, who usually fell asleep, hardly even blinked.

  "The assumption," Harry said, "is that there is interbreeding going on inside the Godships. But no one could understand how, unless natives from various Godship sites were transferred back and forth. Although everyone understood that David Granger was probably on board one of the ships, it seemed unlikely that he would be involved in a breeding program."

  There was subdued chuckling. Bev said, "I suspect David would be happy to service all the women." Everyone laughed.

  I was confused. "How did the Co
uncil decide it was interbreeding?" I asked.

  I could see several heads nodding. Harry rubbed his chin.

  "The natives that were...uh, lifted to the Godships were mostly women and very few men. The women were apparently young and healthy, as were the men. I think the preponderance of women made Council members think of breeding." At least Harry was convinced by the arguments, but I wasn't. There could be many reasons for selecting mostly women.

  "First it's water," said George softly, as though deep in thought. "Now it's females. That's quite curious."

  Bev was convinced. "Healthy women to propagate the species," she said.

  "But what species?" I was still doubtful. "The human species or perhaps some other species."

  Harry was shocked by the thought. "Good heavens! That never occurred to anyone at Council meetings. Maybe the aliens have sucked up other kinds of species during their travels and are now attempting to interbreed them."

  Now everybody had a comment to make.

  "Breed something entirely novel. A cross between a human and a Martian."

  "Homo Galaxian."

  "Yes, a new species emerging from native wombs. What a thought."

  "We really need to bring this up with somebody who's now on the scene."

  "The scene? You mean the Brazilian jungle scene?"

  It was the longest meeting we’ve had in years. At the end it was decided to bring up the possibility of breeding other aliens with the Global Council. Harry was eager to describe our discussion. That night I had my first bad dream.

  David had said, in his video, that the aliens were tall and skinny and kind of gray and they had wee red shining eyes. His video showed the wall panels collapsing. That was coincident with the spacecraft decreasing in size just before they left. In my dreams, they were the aliens: tall, skinny, gray metallic panels. There was a circle of such panels. Within the circle was a group of half naked women. They were obviously frightened. The panels sprouted robotic arms. Each arm seized a woman, dragging her across a polished floor. The women screamed. A single male native appeared and tried to extract a woman from the metallic grasp. The panel turned to engulf the native. The crush of metal suddenly stopped. A voice from the far wall. In an alcove left by a departed panel was David Granger. His hair was wild, his eyes were red and flashing. He barked an order in some alien tongue. All the panels receded and were replaced by an army of robots, each with several heads. I woke up, sweating.

  Part 2.4

  It was a sunny Sunday morning when I first told Susan about my dreams. Sunday was always bacon and eggs day and she made eggs benedict over toasted English muffins slathered in butter. Since the sun was shining, the sky blue and the weather warm, we sat on the balcony overlooking the lake. Bare feet and pajamas, delightful. Susan was fully dressed, of course. She had a class in the afternoon, but she was always well dressed, from the moment she awoke until she went to bed at night. I couldn't understand why she'd arranged a Sunday class. She was dedicated to her students and this was a special, off-campus meeting.

  We watched the seagulls soar overhead and we could hear the Canada geese honking below, at the waterline. Our dog, Sandy, got his morning treat of peculiar green cookies. Only Susan knew what they were, but the mutt enjoyed them.

  "I don't know why you're concerned about your dreams," she said. "I'd be more concerned if I couldn’t fall asleep."

  "I'm not concerned. I just don't know what they mean."

  "Ah, you're looking for a Freudian explanation. Freud thought dreams were an expression of primal impulses, pleasures, urges and unfulfilled wishes. That's the reason for the naked women."

  I grinned. "C'mon Susan, you know that's not an appropriate interpretation. Primal impulses? That's why I have you."

  She flung a piece of toast which fell to the floor and Sandy was pleased to devour it. When we were finished breakfast, we both stared out across the lake. It had several personalities, this lake. It could be quiet and serene, angry or sad. There were sometimes curious currents that ran haphazard across the surface. Often there were frothy rivulets. This morning it was like glass, reflecting the far shore like a mirror. We both loved our beautiful lake.

  "I love this place, don't you?" she said.

  "Yes, I've always enjoyed living here, facing the lake. Especially here, at the extreme end of the lake where I can see Burlington Beach. The rest of the world lives on the opposite side of our building, the traffic, the crowds, the noise. It's a pleasant walk to Spencer Park, with lakeside paths. I was born just over there." I pointed to a spot across the lake. "But you weren't born in Burlington," I said. "Why did you move here?"

  Susan became reflective. "I was very young when my mother died. I never really got to know her. I can remember Daddy crying in the evenings. That's when he decided to eliminate everything that reminded him of mother. At first he just redecorated the house and changed the garden plants that my mother was so fond of nurturing. Eventually he quit his job–he was a high school principal–bought the hamburger place in Burlington, sold the house and moved here. We lived up on the hill and could see the lake in the distance. Now I'm hooked. I wouldn't want to live any place else."

  "Yeah, me too," I said. "I used to jog down by the park and..."

  "Jog? Now you rarely get off the couch," she chuckled.

  "Hey, that's not fair. I often take the stairs instead of the elevator. I also do a lot of running on the spot."

  "What spot? Where? You know something? You're putting on weight."

  "That's not fair, either. I inspect the labels on everything I eat or drink to check the calories and fat content. I can recite the nutrient content of several...

  "Right! Then, after checking, you go ahead and eat it regardless of what it says."

  Now Susan was laughing hard. Sandy was intrigued by the sound and started to bark. I suddenly realized that Susan rarely laughed these days.

  "It's good to hear you laugh," I said. "Even the mutt enjoys it. Maybe we should take some holidays, give ourselves a chance to laugh, no worries, no phone calls, problems left behind, just sunshine and a few beers."

  Susan looked contemplative. "Hmm, go where? To the cottage?"

  "No, Miss Sofa would make our stay miserable."

  "Miss who?"

  "Sophie Candy, the gal in the next cottage."

  "You said 'Sofa'. Another Freudian error?" Susan started to giggle.

  "Actually," I said, trying to change the subject somewhat, "I was thinking of a trip–to Brazil, maybe. Don't they have some kind of Mardi Gras, a festival? I took Spanish for a few months when I was in college and..."

  "They speak Portuguese in Brazil. You want to go there to see your Godship. That'd mean traveling down the Amazon to some remote native village with half naked women. No thanks. Sandy and I will stay here."

  Susan seemed able to read minds. That was disconcerting, to say the least. I gave up talk of holidays in South America. Maybe the cottage wasn't such a bad idea. Maybe we could put up with Sophie. Sandy would love it; running about on the grass, nipping at the waves...

  "Gordon! Look! Is that what I think it is?"

  Susan sounded distressed. I stood up so quickly that I knocked the table and my plate fell to the floor, much to Sandy's delight. I stared out over the lake but could see nothing.

  "Over there, by the water tower." Susan was pointing almost due south.

  I had to rub my eyes. It couldn't be, could it? In a few minutes it was quite unmistakable, gleaming in the morning sun: a Godship, hovering.

  Susan's voice quivered. "It's not moving, is it?"

  "No...wait, yes! It's coming this way. See the shadow on the lake? I can't imagine what it's doing here."

  "Gordon!" Susan's voice sounded frightened. "Gordon!"

  I could hardly take my eyes off the spacecraft as it moved slowly across the lake then stopped, almost directly above our apartment building. It seemed to shiver in the sunlight, like a reflection in moving water, shimmering then disintegrating.
I looked at Susan. She was flickering, like bad TV reception. The world seemed to darken, then the sun blinked out and I was in total darkness. I could feel something cold on my feet. There was a noise. I couldn't make it out. It sounded like...giggling.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Part 3.1

  I was dizzy and baffled. As the darkness diminished I could make out the figure of a man, standing against a wall. It was David Granger and he had a huge smile on his face.

  "Welcome to my sanatorium," he said. "My home for a year or more. You'll love it here. Just think what you want and you get it. Our hosts are very obliging that way."

  It was now quite bright and I saw that I was surrounded by those familiar gray panels with the flashing red lights. I had seen them often, in my dreams. David was dressed in a tuxedo and bow tie. His hair was neatly combed, greased to the contours of his head. He smiled, gleaming white teeth.

  "Recognize me?" he said.

  He sounded different, cultured. His manner was imperial, his attire exquisite.

  "David?" I said. "Is that you? You look, well, different."

  "Like I said, our hosts are very obliging. I saw myself in a mirror, saw video of some well dressed gents on the planet and indicated that I'd like to be like that. Poof! I woke up dressed in a blue suit, starched shirt and red tie. When I knew you'd be my guest today, I asked for something fitting the occasion. See?"

  David ran his hand down his lapel and straightened his bow tie.

  "You knew I'd be here, on a Godship?" I said, baffled.

  "Yes, of course. I asked for it. Well, I actually just think it. That's how we communicate, me and my hosts. It seems they send and receive mental radiation, brain waves, something of that ilk. I really don't know, but it works quite well."

  I was stunned. This was not the same old gent I knew.

  "You're stunned, right?" he said, grinning. "Where's the old degenerate David, you're thinking. He's gone, vanished, rehabilitated by my hosts. I learned suitable pronunciation without studying. It was a mental melding: me and my hosts."

  I watched David's mouth, his flashing teeth, exquisite, like an ad for toothpaste.

  "My teeth?" he said, flaunting a wide smile. "Yes, it's quite remarkable. Biogenic recreation. My hosts can reprogram cellular development. I just had to think about dental remanifestation and it was done, while I slept."