Just Like Us
It's odd how our perception of alien life forms has changed over the years. In the nineteenth century, books such as H.G. Wells's The War of the Worlds portrayed aliens as redoubtable enemies, inhuman monsters out to conquer the Earth and destroy mankind. Our cultural perception of aliens as futuristic invaders, space-traveling Vikings or robot-like Mongols was later reinforced by Hollywood's early science fiction movies. Consequently, we imagined men and women from other planets to be of highly advanced intelligence yet possessing no regard for human life.
The television program Star Trek did much to change our opinion of beings from other planets and galaxies. Through the Enterprise's mission "to seek out new life and new civilizations," the show introduced us to a variety of beings, some of whom (like the Vulcans) were peaceful while others (like the Klingons) were more warlike. Movies such as Close Encounters and E.T. had many people actually wishing they could make contact with beings from outer space. Star Wars combined science fiction with fantasy, creating an almost Tolkien atmosphere replete with spaceships, droids and advanced technology. Even a movie as dark and sinister as Alien could not shake our newly found certainty that it was possible for extraterrestrials to be both intelligent and benevolent.
Perhaps it is because we here on Earth have historically drawn distinct lines between ourselves and our fellow man—lines based on race, nationality, religion, sex, age or financial status—that we never imagined that people from other worlds could be just like us.
* * *
The long-awaited first contact was made in the middle of the twenty-first century, when two aliens, one male and one female, materialized in the General Assembly Hall of the United Nations building. Their reception was mixed. Many of the delegates were frightened—to put it mildly. A number of them were suspicious of the aliens' motives, while still others stared in awe and dared to hope that the visitors had come in peace.
Cayel and DeAr, travelers from Melaas, a planet that orbited Altair, did not come empty-handed. They brought with them priceless minerals from their own planet as well as medical and scientific knowledge and technological advancements far beyond our own. Yet they asked nothing of us in return.
Soon these aliens won the hearts of millions of Earthlings. They were, surprisingly, just like us. They were human in appearance, and only a few minor biochemical differences distinguished them from the people of Earth.
Within months of their arrival, Cayel and DeAr were joined by others from their planet. They were welcomed with open arms and treated like celebrities. Melaasians were presented to the President of the United States and decorated by the king and queen of England. They not only hobnobbed with the leaders of every major nation on our planet, but they were also seen at parties given by the most influential people in Hollywood, had box seats at the World Series and Super Bowl and even served as Grandmasters of the Rose Bowl Parade.
Melaasians enjoyed mingling with the inhabitants of Earth. They were a sociable people, just like us. They were a people that valued art, music and literature, just like us. They were capable of feeling love, loyalty, friendship and compassion, just like us. They liked to laugh, play, eat, drink, sing and dance, just like us.
As more and more Melaasians arrived on our planet, it became almost impossible to distinguish them from the native people of Earth. This was understandable because—as I've said several times before—they were just like us.
* * *
Journalist Macy Hicks wrote a syndicated column that appeared in over three hundred and twenty-five newspapers and websites across the country. Before the arrival of the Melaasians, she covered Hollywood premiers, Broadway openings, award show presentations and other entertainment news. She revealed which rock star was seeing which supermodel and what athlete was being sent to a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center. Since Cayel and DeAr began rubbing elbows with the rich and famous, however, Macy became the unofficial expert on the popular newcomers' public appearances.
On the first day of November in the year 2045, Macy booted up her computer, pressed the key to activate the microphone and began dictating the first draft of her column.
"Rumor around Tinseltown is that action star Jordan Kendall will be showing up at the Oscars this year with Melaasian beauty Raviel. His ex-wife, Fawn Merridew, is said to be seething with anger and jealousy."
Macy, of course, knew that the handsome actor was gay and that the date with the beautiful Melaasian (not to mention his marriage to former costar Fawn Merridew) was nothing but a sham. Jordan's supposed liaisons with gorgeous women were carefully staged to perpetuate his on-screen image of a testosterone-fueled "man's man."
As the columnist composed her article, she began to consider the plausibility of an actual romance between a human and a Melaasian. There had always been mixed marriages on earth; people of different nationalities, religions, ages and races frequently intermarried. Why then had there not been any marriages between the people of Earth and those of Melaas? There didn't seem to be any biological impediment to such a union. After all, physically, they were basically just like us. And living among us as they did, closely interacting with humans on a daily basis, it seemed only natural for strong emotional attachments to develop.
Why then hasn't there been a human-Melaasian marriage? she asked herself.
The gossip columnist sat back in her chair and cast her eyes to the ceiling. Other questions concerning the Melaasians began to flood her brain. Why did they speak so infrequently of their home? They claimed to be here for the sole purpose of exchanging information with the people of our planet. If that were true, then why hadn't any people from Earth been invited to visit Melaas?
Macy supposed the latter fact was a good sign. At least the people from Earth could all sleep peacefully at night knowing that the Melaasians had not come here looking for people they could entice back to Melaas only to live in slavery, or worse, to wind up being the main ingredient in the Melaas soup de jour as in the classic Twilight Zone episode "To Serve Man."
Still, unlike most people, Macy had reservations about the extraterrestrial visitors' motives. This wasn't surprising, since she doubted practically everything. She never took anyone at his or her word without seeing the proof. Suddenly, she didn't care whom Jordan Kendall was taking to the Oscars. She had been writing about the lives and loves of celebrities for so long that they ceased to interest her anymore. On impulse, she instructed the computer to delete what she had already dictated and to start over.
"Is the information exchange with Melaas a one-way street?" she began.
* * *
Macy's column struck a nerve in her readers. While many shrugged off her questions, others shared her suspicions, quite a few of whom, after having read her column, took a closer look at the growing number of Melaasians living among them. Various radical groups, whose members once proclaimed the supremacy of their own particular race or religion, decided to join together to take steps to ensure that the Melaasians did not pollute the purity of future generations of Earthlings.
The intrepid journalist wasn't content to limit the expression of her doubts to just that one column. Within days of its printing, she wrote another asking why the Melaasians seemed so secretive about their home planet. Soon at least one out of every five of Macy's columns concerned the lack of knowledge most humans had about the enigmatic aliens that were working beside them, who were living in their neighborhoods and whose children were playing with their sons and daughters. These columns added fuel to the already smoldering fire of doubt that was slowly spreading around the globe.
As her number of readers increased with each new column published, the writer became nearly as famous as the celebrities she wrote about. She was so well known, in fact, that shortly after President Louisa McCarthy took office, Macy was invited to dine at the White House. During the formal dinner, the columnist was seated at the long table with the junior senator from Rhode Island on her right and the acting head of the Federal Bureau of Investigation on her left. Understandably, there were no Melaasians at the White House that evening.
"You've certainly caused quite a stir with your recent columns," the senator observed between sips of his wine.
Macy, who was savoring her oyster salad appetizer, nodded and replied, "It's strange, but even though the circulation of every newspaper that carries my column has increased drastically, many publishers have threatened to drop me if I don't stick to writing about movie stars, professional athletes and rock singers."
The head of the FBI then joined in the conversation.
"If I were you, Miss Hicks, I would expect to hear from more of those publishers in the near future."
"Why is that?"
"Because it's dangerous to print unfounded accusations."
Macy was offended.
"But I haven't accused the Melaasians of anything. I only expressed my curiosity about them. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Still," the senator warned, "I think you should heed the advice of wiser men and stick to writing about entertainers."
The senator's wife, who was seated across from Macy, tactfully turned the conversation to the rising stock market prices. The columnist nodded at her with gratitude.
* * *
After dinner, Macy was given a private audience with the president.
"Sit down, Miss Hicks," President McCarthy said sweetly.
A White House butler poured out coffee and handed a cup to Macy, who added milk and two spoons of sugar. The journalist looked with appreciation at the exquisite Sterling silver tea service that had probably been around since the days of Abraham Lincoln.
"I couldn't help overhearing part of your conversation with the senator tonight," the president began.
"Oh? Which part was that, Madam President?" Macy asked innocently.
"About the recent articles you've written on the Melaasians."
"Ah, those! The senator thinks I should stop writing about our friends from outer space and stick to Hollywood gossip."
"That's good advice," the president said with a smile.
"Why?" Macy asked, somewhat disrespectfully. "I'm sure you're aware of the Constitutional right of freedom of the press."
"I've heard of it," the president replied, the smile disappearing from her face. "But I don't believe the press should be allowed to foment interplanetary dissension. Surely, Miss Hicks, it has not escaped your attention that the Melaasians are as superior to humans as humans are to the ape. The people of Earth have been blessed by their arrival and with the peaceful coexistence of our two peoples. Why do you want to stir up trouble? Do you have any idea what our visitors from Melaas might be capable of doing if their anger were aroused?"
"Is that what this invitation was all about? Was I only brought here to the White House to be warned against writing any further columns on the Melaasians?"
The president did not answer.
"Well, I won't be intimidated, not by the senator or the FBI or even you, President McCarthy. I'm an American citizen, and as such I have the right to say what I want in my column as long as I don't cross the line into libel."
The president put her silver teacup and saucer back down on the matching tray.
"You can't say I didn't try," she said with a sigh. "Goodbye, Miss Hicks. The butler will show you to the door."
Outside, the parking valet pulled Macy's car up to the door, and she got into the driver's seat, anxious to get out of Washington and return to her home in Alexandria. A slight movement captured in the rearview mirror caught her attention. She barely stifled a scream when she saw sitting behind her the acting head of the FBI.
"What are you doing in my car?" she demanded to know. "We tried to go about this in a civilized manner, Miss Hicks, but, unfortunately, you refused to cooperate."
Macy attempted to open her car door, but it wouldn't budge.
"What are you planning on doing now?" she asked fearfully.
"I have to silence you. Too many people are beginning to pay attention to the questions you raise in your column. That poses a serious threat to us."
"Us? You mean you're a ...."
She couldn't finish.
"What happened to your boss, the director of the FBI?"
"He was getting on in years. It was best he retire and let a younger man take his place."
"Don't you mean a younger Melaasian?"
The alien smiled, not bothering to deny the accusation.
"And what about the senator? Was he also one of you?"
"Haven't you ever heard of the old Earth adage that curiosity killed the cat?"
The alien reached into his pocket and took out a gun with a silencer attached to it.
"You're just going to shoot me right here in front of the White House?" Macy asked with more disbelief than fear.
"You forget," he laughed. "I'm acting head of the FBI. We're expert at covering things up."
"But the president might ...."
The amused look in the alien's eyes sent a shock of fear through Macy.
"President McCarthy is one, too," she concluded forlornly, as though passing a death sentence on the human race.
Macy wiped a tear from her eye and whimpered, "We all thought Melaasians were kind, compassionate and peaceful. Just like us."
"We discovered, just as you humans did, that you can catch more bees with honey than you can with vinegar. We wanted to take over the Earth and decided it would be much easier to do it without your knowledge and interference. We came bearing gifts and wearing smiles, but just as every coin has two sides, we also have a darker half. We're devious, treacherous and greedy."
"Just like us," Macy said with poignant understanding.
A moment later a bullet ended her life and with it the only serious threat to the Melaasian conquest of Earth.
Oh no! It's a close encounter of the Salem kind.
