A Good Samaritan: This story was one of the first to be set in the Ebbverse

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