A Good Samaritan: (Finished Oct 20th/2013)(approx
5000 words)
“What is it? Oh, speak into the
tube? It’s not a tube? A microphone?”
<Sounds of muttering>
“I may be from the backwoods, but
I’m not stupid or backwards. I know what a damn microphone is, boy.”
<sound of clearing throat>
“Well I suppose this is where I
can actually get away with blaming the dog”
<A pause>
“Well, so what, I know it wasn’t
that funny. Trying to break the tension here and...”
<trails off into muttering.
Faint voices in the background>
“Ok, ok, I’ll get to the point.
Yes, so I said I could blame the dog and really, that is true.
We…who? Oh, we, as in me and my
missus, were out walking the dog. The city? Well, that’s the dog’s fault too,
you see. He likes the city, he likes the crowds, and he loves meeting other
dogs in the park. So when we come into the city, we usually stop at the
Shriner’s park by the mall at the edge of town.”
So yea, as I was saying, we were
out with the dog when we found him. He was banged up good, but Missy, being a
nurse, she’s a good one too, she looked him over and told me, ‘George, George,
we’re taking this man home. Someone’s attacked him. We’re going to make this
right’.”
Well, when my Missy gets
something in her head, there’s no changing her mind, and well, it wasn’t like I
was against the idea. The good book says certain things about this particular
subject, so I felt the course was clear.”
<the sound of someone taking a
drink of water>
“Well, no, I don’t want water,
could you bring coffee? Double cream and double sugar. Yes, well, it’ll help me
remember everything. You want that, accuracy, don’t you?”
<The sound of footsteps and a
door. Some voices in the background, very faint. The door again, and
footsteps.>
“Thank you, young man, that was
very nice of you. Now where were we…?”
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
The park was usually deserted at
this time of night. At most, a few scattered teenagers, with their newfangled
slicked back hair. I always laugh to myself about that, them thinking that
hairstyle was new. I remember that style from the days of the Depression. It
was a pretty normal walk in the park, for a pretty normal retired couple on a
pretty normal evening. Until the dog smelled something strange. Well, the dog,
he’s always all about the new smells, you know how dogs are, and he started
acting weird, like there was something he didn’t quite like going on, but he
didn’t understand what.
Now, you need to understand, this
dog, Axel, is not like usual dogs. He’s very, very smart. A rocket scientist
among dogs. He rarely barks, though he has his own little way of talking with
grunts when he wants something. Don’t look at me funny, it’s true, he’s a very
smart dog, that one. One type of grunt for when he wants a walk, another for a
treat, and so on. The only time he ever barks is if it’s at someone he just
really don’t like. Which in our little town, isn’t even the mailman. Rest of
the time, that dog, he just makes his grunts and once in awhile, this little
growly, rowrly noise. Anyway, he smelled something, that rascal did, and well,
looking back, it really was out of this world.
But at the time what got my
attention was his sudden “pointing” at magnificent specimen of a colossal pine
with enormously long branches, tips stretching down to lightly brush the
ground. He stopped and sat down and looked up at me and grunted. He stuck his
face under the branches and started snuffling around. My first thought was
perhaps someone was out there under the tree sleeping, just like they did back
in the Depression.
What was really under there was
different. Much different. At that point, I just wanted to move on, not disturb
whoever Axel saw under there, and move along. And that’s when my Missy decided
to take a look. Damn.
She had been trying to take a
picture of some birds with her new fancy European camera. I remember thinking
that I didn’t think she realized that with the daylight fading, she probably
wouldn’t get any good shots. Funny how some details stay so sharp in one’s
memory. It was that one that looked kind of like a little plastic accordion,
and once she had got it she wore it nonstop on a little strap around her neck.
I secretly disliked that camera, I just don’t like getting my picture taken,
but don’t tell her that.
Anyway, Axel began whining, and
trying to crawl under the tree. I tugged at his leash, getting equal parts
concerned there might be someone hostile under the tree and anxious to get on
with our walk. He usually comes right away when I give the leash a tug, but
this time he was having none of it. I thought perhaps he saw a squirrel, he
loved to chase them. He backed out and sat back on his haunches and poked my
leg with his front paw. He stared up at me, clearly wanting me to look in
there, something I was reluctant to do; bending down when you’re this old means
not always being sure you can get back up. My Missy, being a few years younger,
leaned down, poked her head between the branches and that’s when she saw him.
“George, George, there’s a man
down here, and he looks hurt.” She disappeared under the branches.
Well, the old heart skipped a
beat there. I didn’t want her to get hurt or anything. Who knows what had been
going on under there. You hear all kinds of weird stories on the news these
days, you know, Satanists and those druggies and stuff. So I got down on my
knees as quickly as the old bones were able, determined to give any enemy the
what ho and crawled in after her.
To my surprise, there was enough
room underneath to stand up nearly fully upright. It looked like someone had
tied the tips of the branches together, then pegged them down to the ground,
but where they joined the tree was much farther overhead than it looked from
outside. It was as if they had used the tree branches to make a cozy natural
tent. Propped up against the base of the tree was a man, surprisingly
well-dressed, in a fancy tuxedo of all things. Well, or at least it had been
nice until he had gotten beaten up. He looked like he was in rough shape, large
bruises and swelling all along the side of his face, obscuring his eye. His
previously nice clothes were ripped in a few places and covered in dirt and
pine needles, with a nasty, burnt looking hole on the side of the abdomen.
Under the hole oozed strangely deep red blood. I didn’t think of it at the
time, but looking back, his blood didn’t seem quite right; it was a lot darker
red and it seemed more, well, more thick. Ya know, like them Hollywood special
effects that don’t quite look right?
At the time though, all I thought
was who hurt this poor man and why would they leave him like this?
“We have to help him George.”
Missy said, checking him over, taking his vitals. “He has no wallet, no money,
no nothing. Here, help me get him out.”
“We gonna take ‘im to the
hospital?” I asked, grabbing one side as she grabbed the other.
“No, George, no, he won’t be able
to pay them. And we certainly can’t afford to. We’ll take him home, I can take
care of him there. I need my trauma bag though, so we need to hurry as best we
can.”
Somehow, with much grunting and
huffing and puffing and tugging and pulling, and I ain’t ashamed to admit, more
than a couple rests, we somehow got him back to the car. Fortunately, he was
incredibly light, much lighter than his size would indicate and it wasn’t that
far from where we parked to that tree. Hell, I’d guess he was less’n half what
a guy his size should weigh. Darndest thing. I’m sure Missy noticed too, but
she never mentioned anything. As gently as we could, we stuffed him into
the back of the station wagon, and headed for home.
My Missy crawled into the back
and began tending his wounds with the small car first aid kit as best she
could. I headed for home, and as we passed the turnoff for the hospital, I
wondered if we were doing the right thing. I had little time for that thought
though.
“Step on it, George. This is no
time to drive your age.”
Now I knew it must be more
serious than she let on. She didn’t like it when I drove fast, no sir, not one
bit. But I sure did, I loved it, and by golly, I took full advantage of this
rare opportunity. I put that old wagon’s pedal right to the floor, I think
likely only the second time in the 20 some years I owned her. The old beast
hesitated for one, then two long seconds, jumped like a wasp stung horse, and
then kicked forward with a good wallop. I buried the needle as deep as it would
go, hoping we wouldn’t catch the eye of a cop.
Because, really, an old guy
speeding like a bat out of hell in an old station wagon was probably memorable,
and for some reason, I had this feeling we had to keep our discovery and care
of our new charge quiet. So I eased off a little bit, back into a more normal,
but still much faster than usual, speed.
Fortunately, we weren’t far from
home, and I put out the lights and killed the engine, letting the slope of our
driveway kill the momentum. We rolled to a silent stop, and I slowly engaged
the ebrake, then helped my wifey with our charge.
Again, his surprisingly light
weight was in our favor, making hauling his damaged self up the stairs so much
easier. We laid him out on the kitchen table, taking care to remove Missy’s
favorite giant vase first. Emergency or no, I’d never hear the end of it if I
permitted harm to come to that vase. Never much liked the thing, far too large
and gaudy, but she loves ‘em, borderline collects ‘em. Ah, everyone’s little
whatchamacallits, idiosynchronies.
So yeah, we got him up there, and
Missy sent me running up the stairs to grab her proper medical gear. She had a
large tacklebox, same as the one I had for my fishin’, set up with everything
medical, and I grabbed her trauma bag too. My wifey was nothing if not
prepared.
In quick order, I was left
standing holding up a freezing bag of plasma in an oven mitt, watching as Missy
did some emergency sewing. Well, I did say she was prepared. And quick order
after that, he was all bandaged up, and put to sleep for at least a day with a
little chemical helper, so he could properly rest and recover in the spare bed
in our little extra bedroom. And that found us with time enough to think about
what all just happened.
I made us some tea, and we sat
around the bloodstained kitchen table. Staring over Missy’s shoulder, I
realized her nice gaudy vase had a bit of bloody handprint on it, but you could
barely notice among all the bright colors. Missy looked to see what I was
looking at and gave off a high pitched giggle. I don’t know why, but this
seemed absurdly funny to me, so I giggled too, and soon we were both laughing
our fool heads off. I guess it was like, stress relief, or something, you know?
“Well, he should be ok, once he
wakes up and gives it time to heal a bit. He’s stable, which is the most
important thing. It wasn’t as bad as it looked.” She stared at me, as if she
was debating something.
“So tell me,” I said, knowing my
wife.
“Ah, George.” She sighed, knowing
I knew and still not wanting to really say but both of us knowing she had to.
“Ah, George. I don’t know. You know, those wounds. Ah George,” She put down her
teacup and rubbed both temples.
“Those wounds weren’t created by
nothing human.” There. I said it.
I had been an engineer in the
war, and I’d seen plenty of what human weapons could do. And I could damn well
say confidently that this was no human weapon. Because it had been a burn, as
well as some kind of projectile that caused the hole. Missy hadn’t been able to
find any traces of the projectile however, and to further add to the weirdness,
the wound had traces of both a high temperature burn and what looked like some
kind of acidic burn.
And she knew, although without my
experience of human weapons, after years as a nurse, often in the ER, that no
human weapons did this either. And we were no hippies, we weren’t tripping or
stoning or whatever those kids do. This was truly a weird thing. We both must
of thought it at the same time but she said it:
“Twilight Zone, totally and
completely!”
I didn’t want to meet her gaze,
so I got up and retrieved a cloth and some soap. Set to cleaning up the mess of
the table. She was a big fan, and while I didn’t care for it so much, it was
tolerable, that Rod guy or whoever wrote it, he sure had an imagination. So I
occasionally watched it with her. Well, we didn’t have any other proof, and he
sure looked human. Well, on the outside.
“Of course, the weirdest thing,
at least to me, is how come he looks so much like us. He has to be an alien,
George, never did I ever see a hide quite like that. It’s so human, but not
quite.”
I was more dismissive. Mostly
just because I didn’t want to admit that perhaps the whole Roswell thing had
really been a thing. And I didn’t like thinking that perhaps our government
wasn’t truthful with us like it should be. So I scoffed a bit, and tried to
change the subject. She just gave me “The Look”, and let me yammer on about
getting the brakes on the wagon checked.
“George, it’s getting late,” She
pretended to yawn, giving me another Look. “We should probably turn in. I’ll be
up early to look in on our unfortunate guest and make sure he’s ok.”
I knew when I was beaten. It was
no big thing for us though, after all these years, I mostly got to have my way.
She rarely put her foot down on anything, but then, I rarely gave her reason
to. I still had a bit of a foreboding feeling about our guest, but the good
Christian thing, well, we were doing it. And we wouldn’t stop, just because of
any old foolish feeling of doom and gloom.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*
The next morning broke bright and
early, as it always does. But I wouldn’t normally notice it, because our house
is well shaded by the trees I planted, oh close to 40 years ago now, I guess.
But I sure noticed it this
morning. It was so bright, the sun streaming into my bedroom, bouncing off the
floor and seemingly directly in my eyes. I resisted, turning over, stuffing my
head under the covers. But it was too late, I was already awake. And say, what
was with all this light?
I rubbed my eyes, and grudgingly
got up. My body told me it was pretty close to my normal reveille anyway, and I
rubbed my old muscles as I made my way to the window. Blearily peering outside,
it took my old brain a few moments to figure out what was odd about what it
saw.
All my trees, the bushes by the
mailbox, and the neighbors trees on both sides, severely trimmed. The lawn
looked so short from here that it might as well have been just dirt painted
green. The bushes were pruned back so far that they were just forlorn remnants
of their former leafy glory. What was going on here?
Quickly I dressed, and rushed
downstairs, only to find Missy putting the finishing touches on my breakfast.
“With all the extra light, I
figured you’d be up a bit early, love.” she said, standing on her tiptoes to
give me a quick kiss. “He’s outside, he’s built a marvelous device. His name,
or rather his Earth name, is Roger, he was very clear it was only his Earth
name. He said we couldn’t pronounce his real name without injuring our vocal
cords. He had to use the trimmings from the trees and whatnot as, how did he
put it? Raw material, I think he said. Anyways, he was so grateful to us, that
he built us some things. He wanted to show you himself, so when you’re done, go
out and see him.”
I could tell she would brook no
argument, as badly as I wanted to rush out and see what was going on, I sat my
butt down at the table. She laid out my food for me, and busied herself with
the dishes, tapping her toe to the radio. I tried to eat as fast as possible,
curiosity burning intensely, and paid for it by almost choking to death on my
toast.
“He’s out in the garage; he said
he didn’t want any of the neighbors seeing.” Missy told me as she took my
dishes. “He gave me a brief demonstration, George. His machine really is out of
this world. And his recovery!” She looked at me sharply, eyes flashing. “It was
so fast, he’s practically completely healed, never seen anything like it. But
he insisted on repaying us for our kindness, and well, he’s really eager to
please. So be nice to him, George, be nice. Now run along outside, and see what
he’s built for you.”
With that, I was gently shooed
out of the house. This really made me stoked to see what he had been about in
the garage. He built me something? This, I had to see. Maybe it was a hot rod,
I always sort of wanted one, I like to go fast, ya know?
When I walked into the garage, I
nearly had a meltdown. I’m not really the emotional type, but this damn near
made me blow up. I haven’t lost my temper since the war, and I’m proud of that.
But this was the closest I’d come since then. And do you want to know why? That
bugger, after we saved him and everything, had taken apart a pretty large chunk
of my engine. I mean, sure, the wagon was a little bit old and a little bit
beat up, but she was lovingly cared for and I just loved to drive her around.
And here was this, this, alien,
messing around with her internal parts. It was almost as bad as if I had walked
into the kitchen and he was doing the same to my wife. I love my car, is my
point. And he was deep in the engine, well, more or less sitting in the damn
thing, the only thing visible was the back of my green work coveralls he was
wearing.
“Oh good, you’re up. Could you
pass me that wrench there?” A hand snaked its way up and out of the guts of the
car and beckoned. “I’m almost done here. You’ll never have to change the oil or
put in gas, or well, do anything really, she’ll run almost forever now.”
I grudgingly placed the wrench in
hand and considered what he said. It might as well have been gibberish for all
the sense it made to me. How was any of that possible? What was this guy
really? Some mechanical sounding noises and a high pitched but fortunately
brief screech came from somewhere inside my wagon. He stood up and reached for
one of the rags I keep on the workbench.
Wiping his hands, he climbed out
of my car and looked up at me. Although he looked very human, I’d say he was
shorter than the average man, although built about what you’d expect on a guy
his size. From here, he looked as human as me or you. But I already knew that
couldn’t be.
“What...what did you do to my Bessie?”
I somehow managed to sputter.
“Just fixed her up good. Your
wife said you like to drive fast, and you’re always complaining about the gas
prices going up. So I fixed that. You never have to put gas in her again. And
don’t tell Missy, but I made it so you can go real fast. I mean, real fast,
like blow the doors off any hotrod you see. Also I built you this.” He gestured
to the workbench where something was hidden under a small towel.
He had no trace of his accent,
and as he looked me in the eye, I got this feeling that he was really desperate
to please me. And to still be mad at him would be like kicking Axel when he was
a puppy. With a slight sigh, I deflated, anger draining away now that I knew
that my wagon was a-ok.
“So technically, I’m violating
all kinds of interstellar laws by giving you this, but well, you saved my life
and helped me out when I had nothing. So I built this for you and I also made
a, well, you could call it a list of instructions, for some other cool things.
Course, this is just for you, don’t be going out busting economies with this
stuff, is what I’m saying.”
With that, he reached over and
pulled the towel off his gift with a swoosh. Underneath, well, it looked like a
bizarre high-tech gramophone, like the one my granny got 40 years ago. It
basically looked like a large polished walnut box, oh about the size of those
new fangled plastic milk crates you see popping up all over. On the top,
mounted in one corner, came a large brown horn, painted to match the box. Well,
it sure didn’t look like much.
“So, um, not to sound ungrateful
or anything, but what is it?” I asked, moving closer for a better look.
The impression of a bizarre gramophone
was only strengthened with the closer view. I wondered where the turntable was,
and if my old records would sound nice on it.
“No, no, that’s not it. But I can
see how you’d make that mistake. I remember when Graham Bell first showed up in
my laboratory. I was doing ‘experiments’, mostly just trying to make a few
simple patents that wouldn’t catch any interstellar attention, but make me a
few coins. I never understood you humans and your obsession with money. It sure
is a pain, I’ll tell you that much. He got his idea for his famous invention
from my original version of this. Course, I had to destroy that one once Edison
found out. The man was a bastard, but I can say one good thing: he was sure
tenacious.”
He looked up at me and blinked.
Something seemed a little weird. Then I realized that when he blinked, two sets
of eyelids had blinked. Strange, that.
“So uh, does it play records real
nice or…?” I ventured, lightly caressing the top of the box.
He laughed, no, threw back his
head and let out a huge guffaw and slapped his knee. I’d never actually seen
anyone really do that outside a movie.
“Oh, you guys! I always forget
how backwards you are! ‘Does it play records’ he asks. “Yep, real nice!” I felt
vaguely insulted, but wasn’t sure why or what was so funny. “No, it’s ok, I
shouldn’t laugh, you go ahead and look sour. I just sometimes forget that this
is an Interdict planet and you guys don’t have the usual stuff I’m used to. Um,
yea, so no, it’s not a record player.”
“So what is it then?” I raised my
eyebrow at him.
“Well, it’s a UURGLED, but again,
you have to be really careful you don’t bust your planetary economy with this
thing.”
I wondered if that was some kind
of alien word, and when he saw my expression, he laughed again.
“Not an alien word. It’s an
acronym. I know how you humans love your acronyms. It stands for Unlimited
Universal Goods and Limited Entertainment Device. Basically, you put raw
material in here,” He opened a small, previously invisible drawer on the bottom
of the unit. It looked strangely much larger on the inside, almost seeming to
try to suck my eyes into it, a very weird effect, let me tell you. “Then it
strips the raw material down to its component molecules, and you tell it what
you want, it has voice recognition or there’s a holomenu should you prefer. You
pick what you want, and presto quick-o, alakazam, it builds what you wanted,
atom by atom. Cool huh?”
He looked up at me with such a
desperation, obviously needing my approval, so I nodded my head. I felt a
little out of my depth though, not really too sure what he had just told me.
The confusion must’ve shown in my face.
“A demonstration, that’s what we
need,” he said, looking grateful to have something to do to break the suddenly
awkward silence.
He had piled up a medium sized
stack of sticks, stones, grass clippings, and old leaves from the mulch pile
just outside the garage. I had been planning on giving him a stern talking to
over the mess, but it looked like it wasn’t going to last long. He just stuffed
big armfuls of this litter into that tiny looking drawer, and it just kept
accepting it, accepting far more than could obviously fit. How odd. But he just
kept stuffing more and more into it, giving me a look that seemed to say, ‘how
tedious this part is, but you just wait’.
“It takes a decent amount of raw
material sometimes, it really depends on what you want to make. What do you
want to make? What should we make? What do you like, good sir? Any requests?”
He grinned at me expectantly.
“Well, I did have my eye on this
one toolset from the hardware store. That new chromium vanadium one. It looks
nice.” I have to admit, this made me a little wistful.
“A new toolset it is then.”
And it was. And it was good. It
didn’t take long either. He pushed a few buttons on the front panel of the
machine, and it gurgled and burbled for a few minutes and then a little chime
sounded that it was done. Roger opened the top cabinet door, and lo and behold,
a brand new set of wrenches, screwdrivers, several pairs of different types of
pliers and a small socket set. I stood amazed, agape and questioning the
veracity of my eyes. This technology could truly change the world! That really
was my first thought too. He must’ve seen it on my face, because suddenly his
eyes narrowed.
“Didn’t I just tell you? Don’t go
busting your planet’s economy with this thing. I mean it.” He frowned at me,
hands on his hips. “Anyway, you won’t want for much with this thing. Just to
show you my gratitude and stuff. Ya know?”
I nodded, not sure what to say.
This was far beyond gratitude. This could be world changing. Which meant that
the government would be getting involved at some point in the near future. I
sighed.
“Well, I have to get to my
shuttlecraft. Um, I hate to ask, but do you think I could trouble you for a
ride? It’s actually not that far.”
Well, I wasn’t about to turn him
down. And that’s how we got to that field where those nice young men from the
FBI found us.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
<Inaudible voices in the
background. Silence.>
“So that’s my story. The story of
how I came to meet an alien, save his life, and get some fascinating devices. That’s
how I know electronics are the future, boys. Roger told me all about things
like transistors and what they lead to. I don’t know what else you want to
know. He left all the technical data on the hololearner he had the UURGLED
build. Now can I see my wife?”
<A muted question that isn’t
caught by the recorder>
“Yes, yes, I already gave you
everything he gave me. And there’s no reason to seize my damn car. You better
give it back.”
“Thank you for your services, Mr.
Smith. The American people will be forever grateful for the advances this will
bring us. You will be suitably compensated. We shall return you to your wife
and home shortly. That is all.”
<Protesting argument and
static, then end of recording>
The End
