“She thought she recognized this one,” Harry said, passing over the blown-up photo. “Does it look familiar to you?”
“They all look alike. Lights in the sky.” Professor Sight turned it sideways. “If I looked at it long enough it could start to look like a person. Like me—or you, Mr. Cassidy.”
Suddenly Harry felt very tired, extremely tired. He could no longer keep his eyes open. “Why?” he wanted to know. “Why?” And almost it was a cry of pain. “Why did you have to know?”
And then he slept. And felt himself glowing, floating, flying from his body, straight at the horrified face of Professor Sight.
That night, they saw the saucer in the sky again.
Cassidy’s saucer.
ABOUT “UNNATURAL ACT”
Hans Stefan Santesson commissioned this story for an anthology about interplanetary visitors in the not-too-distant future. Here, Hoch explores the effects religious intolerance might have on alien encounters.
First Publication—Gentle Invaders, edited by Hans Stefan Santesson, Belmont Books, 1969.
UNNATURAL ACT
Rain had been falling since early morning, and Professor Singer was depressed by the sight of it. The laboratory had been in readiness for two days now, sterile and waiting, but he’d had little to do except recheck the equipment and instruct the staff of doctors and technicians.
This would be another day of waiting, he thought, but then the telephone rang. “Professor Singer?”
“Yes.”
“Colonel Moses here. The first Alien Ship has just landed. We should reach the laboratory in less than an hour.”
“Everything’s ready,” Singer told him.
Everything. After all these years of planning and preparation. He hung up the telephone and buzzed for his staff. Then he took down his journal from the shelf and wrote in a quick, firm hand: 14 October 1989—First contact with the aliens. Their ship has landed and Colonel Moses is conducting them to the laboratory for complete physical examinations. This is an historic day!
The radio signals from space had begun almost a year before, tentative at first, but with increasing regularly. Finally, within just a few months, the language barriers were broken down and arrangements were completed for the first earth landing by beings from another world.
The creatures—the Aliens as they were officially called—had been most cooperative thus far. They had even agreed to initial physical examinations once it was explained to them that they might be carrying some virus or germ harmful to earth dwellers. Professor Singer had assembled a team of leading doctors in a completely sterile hospital wing to conduct the tests and examinations.
Now, as he spoke on the telephone to his first assistant, he saw out the window that the rain was beginning to let up. Soon through the drying streets, the caravan came into view. Armed soldiers on minibikes followed by Colonel Moses in a staff car, and then the line of sterile trucks bearing the Aliens to their meeting with the earth doctors.
Professor Alex Singer stepped out of his laboratory and went down to the entrance dock to greet them.
* * * *
Forty-eight hours later, Colonel Moses sat across the desk in Professor Singer’s private office. He was smoking a long black Alabama cigar, and he seemed quite pleased with himself. “Professor, you wouldn’t believe the number of newspaper and magazine interviews I’ve given since this whole thing started. And as soon as you clear them from quarantine, I’m going on a televised press conference with their spokesmen. I feel as if I’m almost as big an attraction as they are.”
Professor Singer smiled indulgently. He glanced at his watch and flipped on the intercom. “Is the report about ready?”
“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied. “It should be coming through the printer now.”
He reached down to take the pages as they were fed out of the machine by his desk. “Here is a full report on their physical condition. As nearly as we can determine, they carry no virus. They can breathe our air and survive in this climate—though we may want to move them further south when winter comes.”
“Their bodily structure is humanoid?” Colonel Moses asked.
Professor Singer frowned down at the pages. “Well—yes and no. You had a quick glimpse of them yourself when they landed. You already know some of the more obvious differences. When they removed their flight suits, we found a few others. They have no body hair of any sort, and their skin is perfectly smooth. There are no pores or openings as we know them.”
Colonel Moses grunted. Such details did not concern him. “As long as they don’t have any germs….”
Singer smiled. “They are guaranteed germ free. But there is one aspect of their bodily functions that disturbs us a bit. I don’t know if you’ll want to release this to the press or not.”
“They seem to find out everything these days, whether we release it or not.”
“Well…” He hesitated once again. “The truth of the matter, Colonel, is that these Aliens have one glaring abnormality, even taking into consideration the somewhat different environment of their planet.”
“Abnormality? What abnormality?”
“They have no sex organs.”
* * * *
In the two decades since the end of the Vietnam War and the coming of a general peace to the larger nations of the world, a number of things had happened. The most important, surely, from a sociological viewpoint, was the presidential election of 1976, which put a conservative into the White House and led directly to the formation of the government-backed SSS—the Society for the Suppression of Salaciousness.
Sex did not vanish overnight from the American scene. In fact, the bookstores in the large urban centers like New York and Los Angeles looked much as they always did. The main impact of the SSS had been in rural communities, and in the smaller cites of the midwest and south. There, without doubt, the people had heeded the slogans of the group and turned away from many salacious aspects of everyday life. The effect upon national magazines, television, and even the new home teleprinters was drastic.
And thus the news of Professor Singer’s discovery brought a frown to the already wrinkled features of Colonel Moses. “No sex organs? How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Singer admitted.
“They reproduce, don’t they?”
“We assume so. You must realize, Colonel, that we’ve only had them for two days. I’m sure we’ll get the answer before long. In the meantime, it might be best if this wasn’t mentioned at the press conference.”
Moses nodded. “We’d probably have the SSS on our necks for just discussing it.”
“Exactly. Keep it quiet, and we’ll have more information on it as soon as we can.”
* * * *
Later that afternoon, Professor Singer watched the televised press conference with great interest. He could only imagine that families in 100 million American homes, alerted by the news buzzer on their TV sets, were doing likewise.
After a brief opening statement, Colonel Moses read greetings from the President and then turned the platform over to Tre-5, the spokesman for the Aliens. Singer had found Tre-5 to be the most intelligent of the lot, and easily the best speaker in English. Some of the Aliens had an oddly distended mouth which made it difficult for them to pronounce many of the sounds that went into the formation of English words.
But Tre-5 spoke well. He spoke of their pleasure at being the first visitors to earth, and of their hopes that more would follow them. Watching the figure on the screen, Singer wondered just how well they would be accepted by earth. Already in Congress someone had suggested quotas for Aliens, and old immigration laws were in danger of revival.
He sighed and went back to his notes. That was for others to determine. His own problem with the Aliens was of a more scientific nature.
> * * * *
In the week that followed, the Aliens were split into two groups of about 25 each. One group journeyed to Washington for a personal meeting by the President, then on across the country on a mission of good will. Already plans were under way for some of these to visit Europe and Asia by rocket for a day, and others would be heading for Africa and South America. The remaining 25, mainly the old and very young and infirm, had remained at the hospital, near their space ship.
Professor Singer saw them daily, and spoke with them as best he could without the presence of Tre-5 to act as an interpreter. He still puzzled over the seeming lack of sex organs, and the subject was brought up almost daily at the staff meetings in his office. But it was not until the end of the week that the situation reached a head.
“One of the Aliens is very ill,” Doctor Chang reported. “We can’t diagnose the trouble.”
“Male or female?” Singer asked, slipping into his sterile suit. The doctors had been X-raying the Aliens all week, dividing them by sexes as best they could from internal evidence.
“We haven’t gotten to this one yet, but we think female.”
“Smaller than the others? Smaller than Tre-5?”
“Yes.”
The problem of the Alien’s illness was solved before they reached her. Somehow, unseen by the doctors and nurses, she had given birth to a baby.
“My God!” Singer exclaimed. “But how?”
“We didn’t see, Professor.”
“Didn’t see! But there must be some evidence!”
“There’s nothing,” Doctor Chang confirmed, straightening up from his examination. “The baby weighs 12½ ounces, and seems to be in good health. There’s nothing to show how he—or she—was born.”
“The entire thing’s impossible,” Singer declared. “Babies don’t just appear by magic. There must be some bodily opening we’ve missed in our examination. After all, creatures like snakes don’t appear to have sex organs unless they’re examined quite closely.”
“We have examined them, Professor. You have our report on the skin condition and the lack of pores. They have no sex organs—the groups designated male and female seem identical in this. Internally there are some differences, but externally…”
“The males are taller,” Singer observed. “I can see that for myself.”
“Yes. But there is nothing else. They even dress the same.”
“Isn’t that natural on a space flight of such duration? American men and women space travelers wear identical suits, as do the Russians and French.”
“I suppose so,” Doctor Chang conceded.
“Have you talked to them about their sexual activities? Just come right out and asked them?”
“Of course. But we’ve gotten nowhere. The questioning seems to embarrass them, which I suppose is only natural.”
“Tre-5! He might tell us!”
“Tre-5 is on the London rocket at this very hour.”
“Well, when he comes back, then.” Singer was growing irritated, and he motioned Chang to leave him alone.
Presently he pushed the remote button for the television and watched the crowd scenes at an airport in Cleveland. Everyone was turning out for a look at the Aliens. And why not? It was, perhaps, the single most important event of the century.
Professor Singer watched the crowds for a long time before he turned off the set and picked up his journal.
* * * *
Colonel Moses was pleased. Nothing on earth could have upset him at that moment “The tour is going great—better than we expected. Somehow it’s become an American thing, just as we’d hoped. Can you imagine what would have happened if they’d contacted the Russians first?”
Singer smiled slightly. “The Russian scientists would have had to worry about their sex organs, instead of me.”
“Damn it, Professor, forget about that! The question hasn’t even arisen on the tour.”
“Of course not. With the SSS in control out in the hinterlands, what would you expect? They’ve got the people believing in the stork again.”
The Colonel nodded. “Remember when SSS only stood for Selective Service System?”
“Another obscenity,” Professor Singer remarked, but he was smiling.
“The reporters will get onto this sex angle, though,” Colonel Moses cautioned after a moment. “Just you wait! The New York press isn’t afraid of the SSS.”
But the newspapers were busy reporting the success of the tour. Interviews with Tre-5 uniformly followed a pattern, with the favorite question being what was life like back on his planet? To this he gave a variety of answers, all of which were satisfactory. Newspapers were approaching him now for exclusive stories, offering sums of money that meant nothing to the Alien leader.
New Life published detailed paintings depicting life on the Aliens’ planet, and a number of companies were already producing plastic souvenirs of the event—some in the shape of the Aliens themselves. The visit was growing into a happening that knew no bounds, with all the peoples of the world caught up in it. What had started somewhat hesitantly when the ship landed a few miles from Professor Singer’s laboratory had blossomed into something fine and good and wonderful.
“They’re so friendly!” Colonel Moses reported to Singer at the end of the foreign portion of the tour. “They make no enemies. Everybody loves them. And everybody loves us for contacting them.”
“Not at all the way H.G. Wells imagined it would be,” Singer commented.
“Anyway, Tre-5 is back from Europe. You can talk to him all you want now.”
Singer nodded. “That will be Doctor Chang’s project.”
* * * *
The time for the visit to end was fast approaching. Tre-5 spoke of getting back to his home planet, of reporting on what they’d seen and perhaps planning for a return trip the following year. Already the Aliens were busy loading samples of all sorts into their spacecraft for the three month voyage back home. Some were still out on tour, though, and nothing could be done until all fifty had returned. It was during this period of waiting that Doctor Chang ran his final series of tests on Tre-5 and several others. He reported his findings with a triumphant burst into Singer’s office early one morning.
“Professor, we have the answer!”
“What answer is that, Doctor Chang?”
“We have located their sex organs!”
Singer felt his heart begin to beat faster. “Tre-5 told you?”
“We discovered something in these latest tests, and he confirmed it! We should have realized it long ago, by the way some of them spoke.”
Singer steadied himself on the edge of the desk. “You mean…?”
“Their sex organs are in their mouths!”
Singer sat down, very slowly. “You’re certain of this?”
“Of course, Professor! You noted yourself the unusual distending of some mouths, making speech difficult. Those, of course, were the older females, who…”
Professor Singer held up his hand. “Put it in writing. At once. I’ll want to read it all.”
“Only, Professor…”
“What?”
“There was a reporter from New York in the room when I was questioning Tre-5. I don’t know how much he might have understood.”
“Let’s hope not too much.”
But the following day the story broke in one national newspaper. Though the terms used were in strict good taste, the story left no doubt in anyone’s mind. It spread, carried by magazines and television in the urban centers, and by word of mouth in the rural areas.
The following day, a group of Aliens returned from Europe and were greeted at the airport by an unfriendly crowd. A woman, who seemed to be leading them, screamed something about unnatural acts and hurled the first
stone. It hit one of the Aliens on the neck and he went down. The others seemed confused by the attack and offered no resistance. They didn’t understand.
* * * *
Colonel Moses arrived with his sterile trucks a few hours later. “We have to try and get them to their ship,” he told Singer. “Those are my orders.”
“Who was the woman that hurled the first rock?”
“They’re not certain. An SSS member, of course, but does it matter now? The whole country’s turning against them. The whole world!”
“You too, Colonel?”
“I was home with my wife when the orders came to get them out. She said—she heard about it, and she said…”
“I know,” Singer sighed. “Come. We’ll try and explain it to Tre-5.”
“How do you explain something like this?”
“I guess maybe you don’t.”
* * * *
The crowd—the mob—reached the space ship ten minutes before Colonel Moses’ trucks. Those few Aliens who were loading gifts and clothing and souvenirs were stoned. The ship was wrecked and set afire.
When Colonel Moses arrived, there was nothing he could do. His orders did not allow him to shoot down loyal citizens to protect mere Aliens.
When it was over, when the last stone had been hurled, the last Alien pounded and trampled into the ground, he went back to the sterile laboratory of Professor Singer.
“They’re all gone, aren’t they?” Singer asked, not looking at him.
“The people…you know. What could I do?”
“Tre-5?”
“He was one of the first. He was leading them.”
Professor Singer sighed. “Such a waste, such a waste. They won’t come again, not this way.”
Colonel Moses stood by the window staring out at the street where a gentle rain was just beginning to fall. “Maybe it’s for the best, Professor. They really were too…unnatural for us.”
The Future Is Ours Page 6
