by Don Cook
Mike was profoundly moved by Khraa/Astra’s humanitarian compassion for worlds other than her own, and gently side-hugged his alien sweetheart.
“I hear you, dear” Mike spoke softly. “I hear you. When I think about how our American West was won, it causes me no end of grief, guilt and outrage.”
Khraa/Astra looked into Mike’s eyes and said to reassure him, “We humans are an ugly lot, Mike, on Earth and beyond. The best way to comfort yourself is to remind yourself of the fact that it was not your fault. It’s hard, but your planet’s light-skins have got to shake this Baby Boomer-instigated white-guilt trip! Guilt does not change a thing, and those psycho-babbling Baby Boomers and their Freudian psych-warfare have made more of a mess of things than they will ever imagine. You’re not a Boomer, Mike, you’re a Gen-Joneser. I knew that when I saw your driver’s license. So, don’t let those ‘Boomernazis’ control your mind with their residual ivory tower psycho-iron fist of wrongful guilt, okay?”
Mike was taken aback by Khraa/Astra’s frank words of tough-spoken-but-honest wisdom that many Earthlings would brand knee-jerk reflexively as “politically incorrect”, and felt relieved by her honesty.
“You do realize, Khraavie,” Mike said, “there are Boomer men like Donald Trump and Donovan Turnbull.”
“Thank God for those exceptions!” Khraa/Astra semi-exclaimed.
Both shared another laugh, until Mike asked, “I wonder, could you tell me about yourself? Your real, extraterrestrial, space-exploring, authentic self, that is?”
“Why not?” Both were silent until Khraa/Astra said, “And now, it’s time for ‘Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem, This is Your Life’.”
Khraa/Astra paused, then continued, “I was born in the small town-city of Stravonia, on the Planet Pertoraan, Skandario Province, in Kannatika. Stravonia had a population of only 16,000 when I was born; planet Pertoraan had about half-a-billion people.
“My dad is Iozeff-Veh, an agribusinessman — farmer-food-marketer, that is — and also a weather-seer, what you’d call a meteorologist. Mom’s name is Marikuaa-Rutvah ven-Veh, also a farmer and a part-time herbal-soul healer. Both are high-grade telepaths. When I was born, I was found to have telepathic powers that were way off the scale. Mom and Dad couldn’t have any more kids for a while, nor were we allowed any animal friends.”
“Animal friends?”
“Pets. But we let our so-called pets live in outdoor wild preserve-homes on our home properties. Sometimes, we let them into our homes to live with us. They respect our indoors, and we respect their outdoors. In our part of the Universe, animal-friends are wild, but they choose their human landlord-friends. We give our animal-pals lots of love, food and shelter, and in return, they help us by pollinating the plants and crops, guarding the home, even helping strangers in distress when one is near the home of such well-treated, well-loved creature-companions. Obviously, they help keep their home and our outdoor property clean and tidy.”
“Sounds like your people have a wonderful way of treating companion animals. Practically a humane society’s dream world.”
“In fact, Mike, before anyone in our corner of the Universe can move in to a new place, or when a child has just been born, the Animal Welfare Department, or some equivalent animal protection-body, determines whether it is safe to allow a given human individual, family or group to have animal friends cohabit with them. These animal welfare officials do this with thorough character and psych-power testing of the property’s occupant or occupants. However, they are reasonably limited in their authority by laws designed to protect human rights, especially the right of freedom from abuse by police, government bureaucracy, or government-funded agencies. Sadly, like it seems to be unfolding on Earth, that particular set of freedoms, like many others, is being eroded by what we call ‘authoritarian paper-shoving mobsters.’”
“It does sound like Earth!” Mike said.
“Anyway, my delivery-and-childcare-doctor — that’s a doctor who’s a combination OB-GYN and pediatrician — she had recommended to Mom and Dad the names of some Early Childhood Telepathic Abilities Workers. Obviously, Mom and Dad got on it as soon as they left the Kid-doctor’s office.”
“And how did it work out?”
“It didn’t, Mike. They were all secular, anti-religious workers schooled in what we call ‘the Mean Ways’ — including the use of electrical psych-prod-rods.”
“They did that to you, a child?!” a horrified Mike asked. “Shock treatment on kids?!”
“Exactly. Thank God that method is no longer used!”
“I hope it isn’t!”
“In fact, when the fourth such worker used that tactic on me, I psychokinetically threw her clear across the room! Mom and Dad saw what happened, they video-recorded it, and that worker, in conjunction with other cases, was sentenced to 12 standard-years on a combination prison-and-psych-world for women.
“Unfortunately, she only served one-half her sentence due to good behavior, only to get another position in another province, doing the same kind of work for a wealthy couple with a similar problem child, abusing him the exact same way before the worker, well, ‘disappeared.’ That family had high-level political connections, so nothing was done about the worker’s ‘vanishing.’”
Mike, after hearing his girlfriend relate her tale of abuse by an early childhood social worker, realized that Khraa/Astra’s people were human after all… all too human.
Khraa/Astra sensed Mike’s thoughts of outrage and said, “See? I told you my people were human.”
“But you did get the right kind of help.”
“When the governmental welfare route had failed, we moved out of Skandario province, settled on Planet Albaskoba in Albaskia Province and sought help there from a faith-based organization in the same field, the Omniune Faith-group’s Sister Benevia Society. The Omniune Faith-group is a lot like your Roman Catholic Church, with both comparable virtues and faults.
“They sent a health-doctor of the female persuasion who saw exactly what I needed because she herself was a telepath from the Gorkeldic Republic, which is a lot like your Ireland. She was sort of like the angel Monica from your Touched By An Angel TV show, and we hit it off right away. Since she was single at that time, my parents let her stay with us. She helped me immeasurably, Mike, until I was well advanced in my training, far in advance of the level for child telepaths. By age 3.5, I was certified mentally safe, that is, more than mentally disciplined enough not to be a danger to myself, anyone else or any animal.
“We were then approved for cohabitation with animal friends. We actually even attracted some critter-pals to our place once approval was given.
“Soon after that, my Telepathic Abilities Worker moved out and set up her practice in our home area close to where we lived, and she was like a second mother to me. Later on, before I was five years old, Mom and Dad adopted my baby brother Yesh.”
“At least that part of your story has a happy ending,” Mike said. “May I ask the name of your worker who helped you so wonderfully and successfully?”
“You may not believe this, Mike,” Khraa/Astra said, “but it was Velbie. We became lifelong friends as a result. We have sort of a mother-daughter-type friendship. And somehow, we’ve always ended up on the same KERC missions.”
“Velbie’s wonderful. I’m glad what she did worked out well for you.”
“And just in time for me to attend a charter-school. At first, the kids teased me because of my telepathic problems, even though I had dealt with my powers.”
“Sounds a lot like Earth-kids.”
“But when I impressed into their minds how much their teasing hurt me, they stopped bullying me, I made good friends fast and became a leader among the children. I impressed upon everyone not to give me any special treatment, mind you.
“As you can understand, we telepaths have a special social responsibility among our peoples. Because of this, I led by example by being respectful to elders, getting my homework done on time, and I helped
everyone not to be jealous of me, but to learn from me and apply what they learned.
“And guess what? Everyone in the class got what your people would class as A’s and B’s. There wasn’t a left-back in my class. My classmates loved me, I loved them, and we all did well. In fact, I was interviewed by our local news-site about how I made such a good difference in the community. They called the news story ‘Showing Them How It’s Done’.”
“That’s beautiful!” Mike said, wiping a few tears of joy from his eyes. “Now, was that just for what we call the grammar school years?”
“It went beyond what you call grammar school years, or what we call the Primary Level or Primers, Mike,” Khraa/Astra said. “It went on into the Mid-Level or junior high, and Tri-Level, our version of your high school. My example affected every grade of school child, even older kids. I also learned the importance of civic-mindedness.”
“But you eventually left for what we Earthlings call university or college.”
“Yes, I did,” Khraa/Astra said, “on the Armed Forces bill. I realized the best career path for me was space and interplanetary exploration as a social science field specialist. I worked my gluties — sorry, my butt off, graduated at the head of my class, and became a theoretical theolenvironanthropsociopsychologist. Top in my field.”
“What in blazes is that?!” Mike said, dazed, amazed and downright floored by Khraa/Astra’s lengthy job title. “That’s gotta the longest word ever!”
“There are words much longer than that, Mike” Khraa/Astra said.
“I didn’t know there could be!” Mike said, even more dazed and amazed.
“There are, but I leave it up to you to look them up — if your sanity can stand it.”
“Uhh…” Mike said, uneasily, “I think I’ll just take your word for it. For now.”
Both laughed, before Khraa/Astra said, “Would you care to know just exactly what a theolenvironanthropsociopsychologist does for a living?”
“Well,” Mike said, “just what is the description of your job that I just can’t pronounce?”
Khraa/Astra chuckled briefly.
She then continued, “My field is theolenvironanthroposociopsychology, a faith-based, all-encompassing blend of anthropology, sociology, psychology and a mega-host of other sciences. My field studies how cultures are affected by a plethora of factors that impinge upon a given culture such as geography, topography, proximity to water and other areas of population, climate, technological levels, socioeconomics, spirituality, politics, what Earthpeople call ‘geopolitics’, frequency and intensity of peace, war, or some other level of social harmony or unrest, even astronomical factors, among many others. The secular version of my field is called seculenvironanthropsociopsychology.”
“Either way, it must take a heck of a long time to become either one.”
“It does, unless you’re a telepath of exceptional ability. In fact, studies done by Statistics Kannatika have shown time after time that over 79-over-100 — sorry, 79 percent of all Kannatikans in my field, faith-based or secular-atheistic, are telepaths who are either high-scalers or off-the-scalers. The same percentage generally holds true in other jurisdictions across the Known Universe. Known to my peoples, that is.”
“And after you graduated?” Mike asked. “What then?”
“After I graduated from, well, let’s just call them ‘the halls of high-learning’ as a certified you-know-what,” Khraa/Astra said, “I underwent the tough rigors of mandatory spaceflight and space/alien world survival training. Since KERC space explorers and Armed Forces service-beings work under similar conditions, we take the same kind of training and retraining. It’s a cost-saver, because space exploration is very pricey.”
Mike chuckled as he said, “I can imagine!”
“I rose to the top of my profession, and became a KERC Level-2 Commander, a lot like your Naval Commanders, by age 30.”
“Awesome!” Mike paused, but out of morbid curiosity, asked cautiously, “Khraavie, you know how we Earthlings, men and woman alike, hesitate like crazy to ask a woman her age?”
“Worry not, Mike” Khraa/Astra said with a reassuring laugh. “Since I haven’t been quite that level with you before, albeit out of the necessity of survival, I’ll tell you just how old I am. First, as a point of reference, your years and ours are about the same length of time, give or take a few Earth-hours. I may look like a 30-something multiracial American female hottie, but that’s only because a) the real Astra Downey was multiracial, and b) our people have slowed down the aging process considerably. Mind you, Mike, we still live slightly less than 120 years. Our health scientists have tried to break the proverbial 120-year glass ceiling, but always the results end in failure, and often also in disaster. Even the Book of Genesis states that God has set the maximum lifespan limit at age 120, and Earth’s oldest people always die a few years shy of that.”
“I know” Mike said. “I’ve read that passage in Genesis every time some smart-aleck scientists say they can make people immortal. That always makes me laugh!”
“My thoughts exactly, dear. But our knowledge and acceptance of the unbreakable 120-year limit allows us to concentrate our efforts on dramatically slowing the aging process and to improve the quality of our lives, not the quantity of our years. We’ve managed to maintain the personal physical and non-physical peaks we reach at age 30 up until age 70. And even after that, we still age very slowly. In fact, our centenarians could pass for most Earthpeople in their mid-50s.”
“Wow! Your people really do have aging licked, more or less.”
“Yes, but when we reach age the ‘big bad one-eleven’ — age 111 — that’s when we hit our ‘sliding years.’ It’s a painful eight-year stretch when a person quickly declines from being like your healthiest 60-somethings to your sickliest centenarians, until... cue the funeral march. By the way, Mike… how old do you think I really am?”
“Right now, Khraavie, I don’t know. Tell me?”
“Well,” Khraa/Astra said, “would you still love me, no matter what my age is?”
“It doesn’t matter to me” Mike said. “I love you like crazy anyway. Why?”
“Like I said, Mike, I may look like a North American thirtysomething hottie young enough to be your daughter, but I’m actually seventy-five years old — Earth-years. Which makes me what your people call a ‘cougar’ old enough to be your mother.”
Mike was stunned at Khraa/Astra’s revelation of her true age — but was oddly relieved and okay with it for his own reasons he had kept hidden from the world.
“That’s fine with me, Khraavie” Mike said. “Since I was a teenage boy, I’ve always secretly loved older women!” The lovebirds laughed, before Mike said, “And no wonder you’ve got the wisdom of the ages!”
“Thanks for the loving honesty, Mike” Khraa/Astra said. “Your thoughts radiated a secret yearning for a lady several years your senior.”
“You’re very welcome!” Mike said, his joy causing him to sport a naughty grin.
“But on a more serious note, Mike,” Khraa/Astra said more somberly, “I need to tell you something I have found disturbing about the women of your so-called ‘Western world’, particularly ones roughly your age.”
“What do you mean?” Mike asked, his mood switching from that of a happily giddy romantic teenage boy to that of an unnerved and mildly offended older man.
“Since I landed here on Earth, Mike…” Khraa/Astra sighed as she began her criticism of middle-aged women with tact mixed with bitter, informed disappointment, “I’ve studied the minds of men and women of all living generations. And at the risk of sounding crude, insulting, sexist and politically incorrect as hell, Earthwomen of your generation leave far too much to be desired, both as people and in terms of wisdom. And before you get mad at me, Mike, as a social scientist, I literally hate my all-too-well-informed conclusions about your generation’s Earthwomen, yet I know all-too well whereof I speak. Trust me, you know I’m right.”
Mi
ke felt a lot of gentlemanly chagrin and disgust at Khraa/Astra’s words, yet also knew, having known women his age, that his much older alien lady-love might have had a point or two, even though he would not dare admit it.
To lighten things up, Mike said, “Well, about your real age, Khraavie, as we say here on Earth, ‘Who knew?’” The lovers laughed, before Mike continued, “But you do know we Earthlings age.”
“And as time goes by, Mike,” Khraa/Astra said in truthful jest, “when in Rome, I’ll just have to age as the Romans age.”
Mike said with a chuckle, “Touché!”
Both laughed before Mike asked, “How about telling me more about your space-based past?”
“Sure. Well into my career as a ‘you-know-what’ when I was in my forties, I had an interstellar war of words and dissertations with a Tarsonic-born scientist in the same field. He wasn’t a telepath, but he was known for putting both telepathic and non-telepathic colleagues to shame with such a sharp, discerning logic that he would have even made your Ockham cry! For four annoying and oddly amusing years, we got on each other’s nerves big-time. Mike, it was like an annoying romantic comedy!”
“Whoa!”
“And this case of cross-cosmos science friction did not go unnoticed. One day, a friend at KERC who had a good friend and colleague at Tarsony’s Royal Space Exploration Corps suggested we meet, with a few strong male scientists standing by to break up a fight if we went for each other’s throats. We were both accomplished multi-fight-sport athletes. It could have ended up like your planet’s Jerry Springer Show!”
“Yikes!” Mike said.
“But after we met, with bodyguards and all, and exchanged a few sharp, witty barbs… to everyone’s amazement, we somehow hit it off. We became good, fast friends, and soon after that, we fell in love. Head-over-heels in love. It still baffles me to this day.”
“Love often does.”
“And to be with me, he eventually transferred to KERC under the Tarsonic Commonwealth Services Accord. Already a Captain in ROYSEC — that’s Tarsony’s Royal Space Exploration Corps — he was immediately made a KERC Captain.”
