319. The Tale of Genji - Trefoil Knots

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Genji

The Lady at the Bridge

Kaoru has discovered who his true father was from a servant he ran into at the home of a prince (a brother of Genji who is living in the wilderness with his two beautiful daughters). Kaoru, while seeking out the prince because of his religious bent and training, has become interested in his daughters. Unclear if all this is simply to inform him of his paternity or if there is more plot than that. By this point I’m expecting him to follow his “brother” and reveal himself as yet another “seducer.”

After several chapters of note passing and finally of -- oh, the shock -- speaking through a curtain or screen, Kaoru has finally gotten a good long look at both of the princesses. I thought I was going to faint.

Trefoil Knots
This just goes on and on. There’s just a little of Elizabeth and Darcy here. He can’t comprehend that any woman would reject him while she would as soon be left alone. (Until she sees Pemberley.) However there is no indication that she has the sense of Elinor or Anne or even the elder Bennetts. We have no idea how the family finances stand, since there’s no indication that the author knows anything about that side of things. Is the elder princess in the position of Emma? Or does she need to be taken care of. Clearly her women are eager to put her out to breed or worse. The author does not exactly show women in the best light.

P847 The princesses’ women, parsing the relative attractions of Niou and Kaoru, are astonishingly like the Bennett household discussing Bingley and Darcy.

P849 “Oigimi too was pleased: they [Niou, her sister Nakanokimi’s rapist and new lover, and Kaoru, who is courting her] could not have chosen a better moment [for a visit]. At the same time she was embarrassed and somewhat annoyed that Niou’s rather pompous friend should have come with him. Then, presently, as she watched the two of them, she had to change her mind in this matter too. Kaoru was a most unusual young man: he had a quiet seriousness that put him in the sharpest contrast with Niou.”

Here Nakanokimi is Jane and Niou is Bingley while Oigimi is mostly Elizabeth (with a little of her mother) while Kaoru is Darcy.

P855 “It was apparent to Oigimi that Nakanokimi was crushed, and the pity was almost as difficult to bear as the anger. ‘If I had been able to care for her in any ordinary way, if ours had been an ordinary house, she would not have been subjected to such treatment.’ “

This after Kaoru and Niou visit the area -- staying at one of Yugiri’s houses across the river -- but their plans to visit the princesses are thwarted by Niou’s mother, the Empress, and Yugiri who wants Niou to marry one of his daughters. The “lovers” are blameless here but the result is much the same as when Darcy convinces Bingley to flee Longbourn.

By the end of the page there are also elements of S&S. How do we know some eccentric gentleman didn’t translate this in the 18th century and circulate copies around the gentry or vicarages. You would find it in vicarage drawers like the Gideon Bible.

P866 This chapter seems endless as Ogimi starves herself to death. It’s taking me forever to read.

P871 The chapter is finally ended. Ogimi is dead. Niou’s mother (the Empress) agrees to the surviving princess coming to town and a broken Kaoru is overseeing this move. In reviewing the chapter, this has been one part the princesses not understanding the men, and one part a Buddhist eagerness to leave this life behind. Both parts are pretty annoying.


We have at least gotten a much better view of the life of these cloistered women and of what they are thinking. That’s new and makes me wonder if that’s why this part of the book is suspected of not being by the same author. (Just reviewed the Wiki discussion and, indeed, this is the section that is suspected of being written by someone else, possibly the daughter of Murasaki.) Interesting that I appreciate this new perspective yet I’m finding it hard to wade through the dreary details.

318. Rediscovering Spacetime

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Spacetime

Earlier today I was waiting for a bus when the detritus of the adjacent eucalyptus trees reminded me of our first house in the San Fernando Valley. So both a very specific place (Calhoun Ave in Van Nuys) and a very specific time (1964-1965). Starting there, I soon realized that, because of the way my family moved around when I was a child, all my memories are similarly isolated in both space and time... so spacetime. 

I can't think of Denver without thinking of 1960, the year we lived there. I can't think of 1969 without thinking of Arizona -- specifically Scottsdale and Prescott. Aside from a cluster of Beverly Hills memories from thirty years ago, all my SoCal memories are from the Valley between '64 and '67. If I think of Boulder, it is 1960-1964.

This is even more true when I've traveled. Paris is locked to the year 1981 and the days around May 10th -- when Mitterrand was first elected. My memories of Montreal connect me to the summer of 1971. But these connections are more limited in the spacial dimension -- I have temporal memories of those years from other places. 

Conventions

The expansion of our convention center was completed just recently and I’ve been noticing many more convention goers around the neighborhood. Until today. So I did a quick search to see if that convention had ended. Unfortunately, I can only find the conventions still to come, but the Specialty Food Association convention starts in two days, so I’m pretty sure I’m right. But guess what convention follows Specialty Food? The Gastrointestinal Cancers Symposium. I wonder if there’s a correlation between the two?

Luxembourg

One of the two new, regular waitresses at The Pork Store is from Luxembourg which gives me a reason to think of that tiny state whenever I’m there for breakfast. This morning I almost asked her if they were taught the history of the House of Luxembourg in school. She was too busy, and then I came up with a headcanon that I like better than any plausible reality. (Given all the words my spelling checker doesn’t know, I was surprised just now to be encouraged to replace “head canon” with “headcanon.” I guess this is the sort of thing a computer program would know.)

In the primary and secondary schools of my imaginary Luxembourg, not only is the history of their House taught, but the school malcontents wear jackets featuring the insignia of the houses of Habsbourg or Hohenzollern. The effete arts crowd wears the Bourbon Lily. 

Voices

Once again (I’m going to have to check to make sure I haven’t already posted something like this). I’m thinking about the voices people hear. Sara Maitland’s teasing book on silence brought up “voice hearing” but had little to reveal about what the voices said. Surely someone is researching what these voices are saying to the people who hear them. And why were Maitland’s voices whispering, to the extent that she needed to find profound silence to properly hear them, when the run of the mill schizo I see on the street is having to shout to be heard over his voices?

Thanks to my recent adventures in neurology, I know that there can be multiple “agents” in our heads. Conflicting lobes. Multiple personalities. And then there’s my favorite, the agent that guides our perception. The one that determines what we perceive and takes a bit of time to do it. How do the voices relate to these agents? I would love to think they came from the later one, but that’s asking a lot. Plus, since the agent I have in mind tends to be primarily concerned with propagating our genes, how would you explain the self-destructive quality of the voices heard by the schizophrenics who make it into the news. If you got on the wrong side of that agent you would really be in a fix. No wonder people think in terms of demonic possession.

Good Luck. Bad luck. Who knows?

I thought of a new, personal, way to tell this story. Thirty years ago I was living in a basement apartment in Noe Valley. It was cheap and in a great neighborhood, but had a bit too much character. But the rent was so low I couldn’t leave. Then, for a petty reason, I decided to move into the house next door when my neighbors moved and put their house up for sale. The market was not good at the time so I anticipated being there for many months. But the house sold quite quickly and after only a couple months in the house I had to find a new place to live.

At that moment I was very busy with work which meant I didn’t have time for apartment hunting, but I did have more money than usual. So I quickly moved into the 29th floor of a building that was always advertising vacancies. I stayed there for three years, gaining a good perspective on high-rise living, and then found a cheaper but smaller place on Nob Hill. There were pros and cons to the place, but mostly I loved the challenge of fitting into such a small space. After four years there I got sick. The only time since I was a child with the measles that I have been basically bedridden. Still don’t know what was wrong with me. But at this same time the owners of the unit suddenly decided they needed to sell it. I could buy it or I could go out and find a new place to live. During this whole process I only looked at other apartments in one other building, two blocks away, and the owner’s agent drove me there because these were the only units he could find that were roughly comparable. (When I commented on the superiority of the units in that building he tried to convince me that we were now in a bad neighborhood. That was the last conversation I had with him.) So I bought my unit. And by the end of the Aughts I owned it outright. And this is why I can afford to live in SF.


However, just to show that my understanding of the “Good luck. Bad luck. Who knows?” story is robust, I will admit that, while this looks like Good luck, you never know. I am now trapped here since I can’t afford to move anywhere else. Perhaps a much happier fate awaited me elsewhere? Perhaps living here will be my doom? Who knows?

317. Martians in Mill Valley - Part 4

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Martians in Mill Valley

Part 4

Operation Odyssey continued

They were spotted by the San Francisco Police at a stop light on the way to the Golden Gate Bridge and by the time they had driven three blocks the cops were swarming around them. “Commodore, there are police cars...” Jeff was silenced by a powerful sinking feeling in his stomach. Clarence had sealed the doors, pushed the turn signal to the right turn position, and eased down on the brake pedal; the ship was rising into the air. He banked to the east as everyone belted in, then pushed both pedals firmly to the floor. At 95,000 feet he leveled off and proceeded across the continent at mach eight. SFPD officers were still attempting to fill out incident reports when the car landed on the South Lawn at the White House. Traffic jams were reported at NORAD in Colorado Springs, at SAC in Omaha, and at the Pentagon, as ambulances lined up to carry stricken staff officers to coronary care centers and psychiatric wards.

As the car landed, the Commodore switched off propulsion and turned the defensive shield on. The ship was quickly surrounded by White House security. Herbert picked up a microphone under the dash and read a prepared speech over the PA system hidden in the car’s grill, “Testing. Testing. Good evening. We are not hostile. As representatives of the duly elected government of New Atlantis, we humbly request an audience with the President of the United States in the interest of establishing peaceful relations between our two great nations. Thank you.” He switched off the speaker. “How did I do?”

“Fine. Now all we have to do is wait for their response.”

“Clarence?”

“Yes, Jeff.”

“Any chance of our slipping away and finding a bathroom?”

“Use the ship system. No one leaves the ship until they calm down out there.”

“I wish we could send out for a pizza.” Al remarked.

“Turn on the TV monitor and see what they have on us.”

When NBC switched to its long range camera at the scene, Jeff and Al rolled down their windows and waved. Nine year old Bobby Martin of New Rochelle, New York voiced the feelings of the entire nation when he complained to his parents, “They ain’t even green.”

Within moments of the first radio reports of aliens at the White House, a crowd began to assemble outside the fence. Besides the idle curious, there were reporters who had been kicking themselves ever since they missed the Watergate story -- normal appearing men and women who would have sold their mothers into slavery if it would have given them a shot at this “story of the century.”

Just as rabid, were the university people. Cultural anthropologists, economists, and historians fought their way to the fence. A team of sociologists from Stanford raced to the airport and headed for Washington. An assault squad of sex researchers from George Washington University rammed in a White House gate with a ‘73 Volvo station wagon before they were stopped by police. A Nobel laureate in physics was knocked unconscious in a fall from the perimeter fence and never even saw the car. He wrote a speculative article anyway.

By 10:00 pm there was one ring of security around the car and a second around the White House grounds. Under Secretary of State Whitehall approached the car. Clarence rolled down the window and said, “Hello.”

“How do you do?”

“Quite well, thanks. Will we be able to see the President now?”

“The President is still meeting with advisers. Are there more of you people around?”

“Not within nine light years of here.”

“Oh.”


“Would it be alright for us to leave the ship one or two at a time and stretch our legs? Your security seems pretty thorough.”

“Hang on.” Whitehall spoke briefly with the head of security. “Two at a time would be alright... but stay close to the car and wait until all our personnel are informed.”

“Of course.”

“The President will probably meet with you around Noon tomorrow.”

“That sound reasonable. One other thing....”

***

The pizza delivery boy walked through the security lines to the car. “You order a pizza?”

“Right. Mushroom and sausage?”

“Yeah. That’ll be $10.57.” 

***

At 3:00 am, Herbert and Jeff switched places with Al and Clarence outside the car. Herbert sat on the hood holding a flashlight. Jeff fell back asleep on the trunk. Most of the security men and researchers and reporters camped at the fence had fallen asleep by this time, but not four medical researchers from Walter Reed who stealthily scaled the fence, darted through the trees and across the lawn. They fell on Jeff, two holding him down while another took a blood sample from his arm. Jeff shouted as they ran off. They escaped in the uproar that followed.

Within hours the Washington Post had the story. Their headline read, “MED REPORT ON ALIENS,” and below that, “Blood Specialist Goldstein Hints At Grave Health Hazard.”

***

The next morning the four men had breakfast in the ship. 

“What’s in the news?” Al asked.

“Mostly us,” Herbert answered. “Also a story out of Chicago about a doctor who went nuts in his office and hit golf balls into the windows of the office tower across the street. He was subdued by police after ten minutes.”

“Do things like that happen often?” Clarence asked Jeff.

“No. Usually they just take it out on their patients.”

“He is being sued by a lawyer cut by flying glass when a four wood shot broke his window.”

***

By Noon both parties were ready for the meeting. Under-secretary Whitehall escorted the Commodore and Jeff to the Oval Office. The U.N. Security Council was listening in from the War Room. Herbert and Al were listening in thanks to a transmitter hidden in the Commodore’s hat. Should there be any trouble, Herbert would home-in on the transmitter and fly to the rescue through the walls of the White House. 

The meeting was actually pretty dull. Clarence explained about New Atlantis -- that the ship/station was returning to its home solar system, and that there would be a need for cooperation on matters of tourism and trade and exploitation of the system’s natural resources. He suggested the establishment of a Consulate, following diplomatic recognition, to handle these and other problems. The Consul General would be Clarence.

“What?” Al wondered aloud. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I guess no one planned on the Commodore running into Mrs. Pratt and wanting to stay here.”

“Really?” Al was surprised. “When did all this happen? Anyway, I’d love to see their faces back home when they hear about this. What do you think the government will do?”


“They’ll have to say this was part of a contingency plan. If they recall him he could carry the Osprey party standard in the next election and knock the present government out of office. Also, this means we’ll be the big shots when we get back home.”

“I’d rather stay here with the Commodore... and Noreen.”

***

The following day, papers were signed and Clarence became New Atlantis’s Consul General to the U.S.A. The day after that he became the Ambassador to the U.N., and received a one million dollar advance from a well known book publisher for the Earth rights to the Commodore’s memoirs. That same evening he proposed to Dorothy Pratt by telephone, and she accepted.

***

One morning two weeks after the White House landing, John F. Kennedy Stadium was packed to watch the 1958 Cadillac lift off on its return trip to New Atlantis. The Pulitzer Prize winning news photograph that year was a telephoto shot with Noreen, Jenny, Barbara, Jeff, Dorothy (all waving goodbye), and Clarence (saluting) with their backs to the camera in the foreground; Herbert (big smile) and Al (in tears) standing by the car in the mid-ground saluting; and in the background Julie Newberry, Miss Baton Twirler of 1979, lying unconscious after beaning herself with a baton.

***

Epilogue

In the years following these events, Jeff was kept busy ghost writing books and articles, under the Commodore’s name, for every conceivable magazine on every conceivable topic related to outer space. The Pratt family became very wealthy.

The U.S. government originally tried to limit alien tourism to Nevada for security reasons, until California governor Babba of Assissi led a delegation of twenty state governors to Washington and threatened to secede. This and a United Nations resolution sponsored by the U.K., France, Germany. Italy, and Canada seeking military sanctions against the U.S., forced the government to change its mind and allow unlimited tourism. 

Herbert and Al returned to Earth with the first load of tourists, government officials, and Atlantian handcrafts in 1986. (Trade was necessary to provide the Atlantians with Earth money to spend on their holidays. Since the technology gap was so wide and the effects of unlimited trade so unforeseeable, the governments agreed to limit their trade to handcrafts and media.)

Al recovered from the disappointment of learning that Noreen had married an electrician from Menlo Park, and accepted a position with the San Francisco Consulate where he spent his time prying enchanted Atlantian tourists off the cable cars.

Herbert was now the first officer on the tourist ship. He spent an enjoyable few weeks with Jenny before hauling the tourists back home and picking up another batch.

By the year 2000, Turl Felix Durban, the former commuter watch pilot for a New Atlantis sector news station, had become the most popular poet in the solar system (which now included New Atlantis). That same year, the New Atlantis Department of Consumption reported that three of five families aboard the ship had at least one Frisbee in their cabin.

316, Martians in Mill Valley - Part 3

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Martians in Mill Valley

Part 3

Operation Odyssey

One night in June of 1979 [I’m not messing with the dates. I guess this is an alternate Earth. Also there are some very ‘70s details in SF] what looked like a green, 1958 Cadillac glided silently down from the sky and landed on a deserted country road outside Santa Cruz. The landing was not smooth. The car bounced twice, then came to rest on the road’s shoulder.

At the wheel was Commodore Clerence Virus Reedowtable, the most illustrious figure in the military history of New Atlantis. Considering his age, 356 solar years, and his inexperience with the ship, he was satisfied with his effort landing the craft.

Clarence Redoubtable, his name was adjusted for the purposes of this mission, was not on Earth for military reasons. His mission was diplomatic and he had plenipotentiary power to negotiate with the governments of Earth. In short, he and his two man crew were to prepare the people of Earth for the impending visit of a civilization of people from outer space.

Clarence Redoubtable pushed a button on the dash that broke the door seals. The three men climbed out and stood on the surface of the Earth for the first time. It was a cool June night. There was a light breeze off the ocean. The three men bent down to touch the grass and weeds. They picked up handfuls of sandy soil and let it sift through their fingers. They stood again and gazed at the moon and, in its light, the surrounding countryside. They stayed close together and spoke in low voices.

“Herbert, there is an insect on your cheek.”

“What is it doing, Alfred?”

“Um... looks like it’s withdrawing blood from your skin.”

“What should I do, Commodore?” He asked anxiously.

“We are not to be destructive, Herbert; ignore it.”

“Alfred returned to the ship and switched on the motor simulator. It roared impressively in the quiet. A steady, throaty purr -- a very nice sound, but not exactly what a car should sound like. Herbert scratched his cheek where the insect had been. He noticed another on his arm.

“Turn it down. It’s too loud.” The Commodore ordered.

“Hi.” The three men jumped and turned around. “That’s a beauty of a car you have there. Must admit I’ve never seen a Cadillac fly before.”

Alfred fingered his combination Eveready flashlight and fugue tube. The Commodore was thunderstruck, no one had thought of this. People in rural areas were said to be most dangerous. What to do? The Stranger stood smiling; looking from them to the car. He slapped a mosquito on his wrist.

“Is it alright to kill those insects?” Herbert asked, breaking the silence.

The Commodore threw an angry look at his subordinate, “Now he knows we are aliens,” he thought.

“Sure. Knock’em off or you’ll have bumps that itch like hell.” Herbert started slapping his arms and face ending a minor banquet in progress. “Out here in the country you should wear long sleeved shirts and use insect repellent.” He pulled a tube from his pocket, “I have some here if you want to borrow it.”

Herbert smiled, started to say thank you, but finally remembered himself and turned to the Commodore for approval. The Commodore was exasperated. Hardly on the ground and already everything was going wrong... and it would be his ass. And that was if they got back home. Probably they’d be pitchforked to death by a mob of women and children. Hopeless. Why did he let they talk him out of his hard earned retirement. He gave Herbert a what-the-hell-we’re probably-dead-anyway shrug, turned around and leaned on the ship. Three hundred years in the service; hero in eight wars in a dozen solar systems; and now this.

Herbert walked up to the stranger who said, “Just squirt a little on your fingers and rub it on your exposed skin. They really had a feast on you. I can see some bumps already.”

“Are they out all the time?”

“Depends on the weather. They’re worse at night.”

Alfred hadn’t attracted the mosquitoes like Herbert, but he had been bitten. He looked on with interest.

“My name’s Jeff Pratt, by the way. Would you like to use some, too?”

Alfred stepped up, “Thank you, Jeff Pratt.” 

“You can just call me ‘Jeff.’”

Herbert handed him the tube repeating the instructions. He turned to Jeff. “My name is Herbert. This is Alfred and that is Com... Clarence. A pleasure to meet you.”

“Where‘ you guys from?”

The Commodore, still leaned against the ship studying the stars dejectedly, “Oh, New Atlantis, a spaceship nation of ninety-five million people nine light years from Earth,” he imagined Herbert replying. This is our gravity powered spaceship and this flashlight is really a fugue tube, an incapacitating defense weapon... here, want to try it?”

Instead, Herbert hesitated, looking to the Commodore for guidance, “Clarence?”

With the bluff and guts that had made him a household name since before his crew were born, he responded instinctively, making a desperate attempt to save the situation, “We are from out-of-town; just passing through. Thanks for the assistance; it was wonderful meeting you. We must be getting on now.” He started for the driver’s seat.

“Come on! Way out of town I’d say. Let me tag along with you... I can fill you in on mosquitoes and things. Look, I just graduated from college and I’m hoping to be a science fiction writer... this is the break of a lifetime. And I can help you. Those clothes you’re wearing are as out of date as your car. You’ll stand out like a sore thumb if I don’t get you some new things.”

The Commodore hit the roof of the ship with his fist, “Phud.” It was getting worse. He could see this mission turning into an endless chain of impossible decisions. He hit the roof again.

“You could at least give me a ride into Santa Cruz. My car broke down up the road. I was walking to town when I saw you land.”

“Commodore, we could probably learn more with a native guide. Surely there are other problems we haven’t thought of,” Herbert added. 

“Maybe we should surrender to the nearest policeman and get it over with,” the Commodore mumbled to himself.

“What, Sir?”

“For instance: the police will stop your car if they notice your license plate is twenty years out of date,” Jeff added.

“Can you get us a new one?” Herbert asked.

“We can take the one off my car... you won’t need a drivers license or a title unless you are stopped for some other reason.”

The Commodore sighed, “Alright. Where is your car?”

***

Jeff unloaded his clutch less Camaro while Herbert unscrewed the plates and Alfred sat behind the wheel of the strange car revving the engine.

***

They pulled up in front of Jeff’s mother’s house and the Commodore shut off the motor simulator. Jeff went in to ask his mother if they could stay the night. He disappeared through the front door. A light came on. Then another. Moments passes. A siren wailed somewhere. Came toward them. Stopped. Silence. The garage door swung open loudly and Jeff motioned for them to pull into the garage.

Mrs. Pratt made-up the bunk beds in Jeff’s room for the young men, and changed the sheets on the bed in Darleen’s room for the Commodore. Jeff’s sister, Darleen, having just graduated high school, was on a senior class outing to Disneyland. The men brought their bags into the house. The Commodore was the first into the kitchen, where Mrs Pratt was heating cider and brownies. “Hello, Mrs. Pratt. My name is Clarence Redoubtable. It’s very kind of you to put us up like this.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Clarence. Jeffrey tells me you are from outer space.”

“Yes.” He sat there recalling all the times he had been warned that people on Earth would become hysterical if they learned they were talking to aliens.

Mrs. Pratt patted her grey hair, “You must forgive the way I look. I was already in bed when Jeffry came in.”

“You look very nice,” Clarence said sincerely. “We thank you again for your courtesy... for letting us stay here the night.”

“Oh, it’s no problem at all. The kids are always bringing home friends -- I don’t mind. It’s nice to have the house full of people. Here, try a sip of cider and tell me if it’s warm enough.”

“Mrs. Pratt...”

“Dorothy.”

“Dorothy, we are unaccustomed to Earth foods and it may take us some time to adjust. We have rations in our vehicle.”

“Well it wouldn't hurt you to try a sip and see what you think.” Just then the others came in.

“Actually this is quite tasty.”

Mrs. Pratt poured cider for everyone and served the brownies, then sat down for her own snack. “What brings you to Earth, Clarence?”

Everyone stopped eating and looked at Clarence, who debated with himself what to say. “It is difficult to explain... we are here on behalf of our government which would like to establish diplomatic relations with the governments of Earth. Our job is to see if this will be possible. To see if our peoples can get along.”

“Well, I certainly hope everything works out. How is it you look so like us?”

“That’s the complicated part.” He hesitated, decided what-the-hell, the truth is the simplest, and continued, “Our ancestors left Earth thousands of years ago and we have been in space ever since. Our home is called New Atlantis because we are an off-shoot of the old Atlantian civilization. New Atlantis is a giant spaceship that holds millions of people. Two years ago we left New Atlantis on our journey here. I must ask you not to repeat this to anyone -- I really am exceeding my authority by telling you all this.” He reached for a brownie, but Jeff had beaten him to it.

“Jeffry got the last one, Clarence. Remind me in the morning and I’ll make you some more tomorrow.”

“Thank you, but don’t go to any trouble.” Everyone helped clear the dishes.

“See you in the morning, Mom.”

“G’night, Dear. Don’t you boys stay-up all night talking. Good night, Clarence.”

“Goodnight, Mrs Pratt.”

“Dorothy,” she corrected.

“Goodnight, Dorothy.”

***

The first thing that caught Clarence’s eye when he awoke the next morning was a large, lavender, stuffed Koala bear. It reminded him of a Xarian philosopher he had met at a party over a century before. Most everything in the room was either lavender or white.

Something moved behind his knee. He eased the fugue tube from under his pillow; sat up quickly pointing the weapon at Darleen’s cat, Kahil, who opened one sleepy eye and fired a lethal look. Kahil then rolled away from Clarence to the edge of the bed, stretched once, exposing his claws, and returned to sleep. Clarence leaned back against the ruffles on the headboard and glanced at the cover of a Rod McKuen book on the bed table.

He got up and went into the head. What he needed was a plan, he had to regain control of the situation. He sat on the john looking at his under shorts gathered around his ankles and tried to think of a plan. The door opened and Mrs. Pratt walked in. “There you are. Just be a second... have to get the dirty clothes from the hamper... there. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes or so.” The door closed. Clarence returned the lavender towel to the rack. It was five minutes before he could retrace his train of thought.

***

After breakfast, Alfred and Herbert went through Jeff’s clothes and found things to wear. With a little taking in at the cuffs and sleeves, the late Mr. Pratt’s clothes fit Clarence acceptably. Mr. Pratt had died several years before, so his clothes were still a bit out of date -- but better than what Clarence had been wearing.

The four men drove around town with Jeff pointing out attractions and answering questions. They inspected a drug store, a hardware store, a supermarket (and picked-up several pounds of apples and some mint jelly for Mrs Pratt), and the J.C. Penny store where they charged some new clothes. They stopped at Jack-in-the-Box for lunch.

After lunch they drove down the coast sightseeing. Alfred noticed how the girls on the beach were dressed and suggested walking out to the water. Clarence, shoes and socks in hand, reached the water first and stuck his toes into the surf. It was cold. He turned around to discover he was alone. The others had stopped fifty yards away and were talking to some girls. Clarence harrumphed. He watched a formation of pelicans skimming the surf just off the beach and thought about something else. When the young men joined him he had collected three broken sea shells and was contemplating picking-up a jellyfish.

***

Back in town they bought several newspapers and magazines, and spent several hours in the city library before driving through the University of California campus and returning home.

Dinner featured lamb with mint jelly. Dessert was apple pie with vanilla ice cream.

8:00 pm found Clarence in the living room rocker and Dorothy knitting on the sofa, “You were telling me about the Ruffians,” she said, looking up.

“Raafians,” Clarence corrected. “That was in the First Raafian War. They demanded tribute which we refused to pay; so they sent a war fleet against us. I had ten dreadnoughts and thirty corsairs in two fleets, almost all the ships we had then. We slipped up on them near a double star almost three hundred light years from here and...”

“More hot chocolate?”


“No, thank you. And we cut them to ribbons with our proton cannons. Took them fifty years to match that weapon. I remember Pard Wilvorn, my Chief of Staff, saying, ‘Admiral, they won’t forget that licking you gave-em for a long time.’ And they didn’t either. And when they attacked us again years later they had superior weapons but I beat them with tactics  and experience. And I would have driven ‘em clear out of the galaxy if the government hadn’t called me off and made peace with the dogs.” He rocked slowly, shaking his head with disgust.

“Well I must say, you certainly have lead an exciting life. Three hundred fifty-six years did you say? Because of spending so much time moving faster than the speed of light. Amazing.”

“A man has to do his job. And of course it wasn’t all rough. I recall a little planet we visited....”

***

In Jeff’s room, Jeff was explaining the rules of baseball to Alfred and Herbert as they watched the Giant’s game on TV.

“Why does he just stand there spitting... isn’t he supposed to throw the ball?” Herbert wanted to know.

Jeff started to explain about signs, when Alfred interrupted. “Come on, Herbert, we’re not going to get in trouble just because we go out with some girls. They said at mission control that we should learn as much about the people and life here as we could.” Alfred had his mind on things other than baseball... or the mission, for that matter.

“I don’t see how we can do it without giving ourselves away. What can we talk about? There are millions of things they could ask us, things that everybody knows, that we don’t know anything about.”

Jeff tried to reassure him, “Herbert, after the movie you can talk about the movie and before that you can ask Becky about herself -- it’s her favorite subject -- you won’t have to say a word. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t plan to do that much talking anyway.” Alfred added with a laugh.

“If you can talk the Commodore into letting us go, I’ll go; but I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Let’s go try.” Alfred and Jeff entered the living room interrupting a story about a planet populated by herds of three legged, pink herbivores who spent their days eating the blue grass under a gold sky and singing in choruses of thousands.

“Excuse us, Commodore. Jeff has made arrangements for us to meet socially with some other people here. I’m sure this would prove a valuable extension of our mission. Would this be alright?”

“Would these other people be young ladies by any chance?”

“Yes. Some friends of mine I haven’t seen since I left town for college. They won’t have to know anything about your identities, I’ve told them Herbert and Alfred are friends from college and that you are Herbert’s uncle.”

Clarence looked stubborn.

“I’m sure there wouldn’t be any harm in the boys going out to a movie with some friends. You are going to a movie, aren’t you?” Mrs. Pratt asked.

“Yes. ‘King Kong Meets Dirty Harry’ downtown. Barbara said we should meet at her house at 8:30 and go together.”

“After being cooped up in the car for two years it should be good for them to get out a bit.”

“Most of the time they were in hibernation,” Clarence answered lamely. “Remember where you are and don’t get in any trouble. Report to me the moment you return.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Jeffry, say hello to Barbara’s mother for me. And don’t be too late, Dear.”

“We won’t, Mom.”

***

“You know, Earth ain’t such a bad place.” Al announced hours later as they came up the front walk. At some point during the evening Alfred had started going by “Al,” instead. “We have to talk the Commodore into staying for another day or so. Robin said they would be down at the beach again tomorrow.”

“He’s not going to buy that,” Herbert countered. He was hoarse from talking. “This is still a mission and we’re supposed to cover more ground.”

“Yeah? Well I covered a lot of ground tonight,” Al snickered. “Why didn’t you try anything with Becky, Herbert? You think she just wanted to see the movie?”

Herbert blushed, “I don’t even know her. Anyway, I was trying to gather data for the mission -- the movie was very interesting and may give us some indication how Earth people will react to our news.”

“Uh huh.” Al replied.

“I’ll tell the Commodore we’re back.”

“Good, he’ll get mad at anyone who wakes him, and I don’t want it to be me.”

Herbert wasn’t disappointed when he couldn’t find Clarence in his bedroom or bathroom. So he quickly left a note on the bed table and retired to Jeff’s room before the Commodore could turn up again.

***

“Did you boys have a good time last night?”

“Yes, Mam. I hope we can stay here longer.” Al answered.

“I think that would be nice, too; but Clarence has decided you should start north today. Speaking of Clarence, why don’t one of you boys go call him in, or his eggs will be cold before he eats them.”

***

After breakfast they packed up and said goodbye to Mrs. Pratt. Clarence was the last out of the house; he hesitated at the door hoping to remember he had forgotten something.

“You’ll come back before you leave Earth, won’t you?”

“I don’t know. I hope so. Goodbye, Dorothy.” He got into the ship and turned on the motor simulator.

“Goodbye, Jeffry. Be careful.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Pratt.”

The hero of twelve solar systems gazed dejectedly at the rolling countryside as they rode north toward San Jose. Herbert checked the automatic television and radio monitors. Alfred and Jeff discussed the Giants chances for a second pennant.

In San Jose they stopped at a McDonald’s for lunch, then continued north toward San Francisco. After stopping briefly in Palo Alto and several other places on the way, they arrived in San Francisco late in the afternoon and found a motel with a pool on Lombard Street. After the car was unloaded, they all went for a swim.

Back at the room. Al showed the Commodore the report he, Herbert, and Jeff had contrived to demonstrate the benefits of their evening at the movies. It looked very good, so Clarence could hardly refuse when they asked for another evening off to mingle and gather data. Rather than spend the evening alone in the motel room, Clarence decided to do his own reconnaissance. He hailed a taxi on Lombard, and told the driver to take him where the night life was. A few minutes later he was standing on the corner of Broadway and Columbus.

*** 

Clarence woke up the next morning when Herbert came in at 10 am. The last thing Clarence remembered from the previous night was boasting to some bartender that he had had women on fifteen different planets and moons, then laying his head on a counter with coins and photos suspended in resin and sobbing. He moaned at the recollection.

Al was standing in the bathroom talking with Jeff, who was brushing his teeth. “After you left we went to the Pierce Street Annex and Noreen taught me how to dance. She’s such a terrific girl. It’s too bad you got sick like that. How many of those Sunrises did you drink?”

“I don’t remember,” Jeff didn’t want to think about it. “Look who’s here.”

“Hi.” Herbert walked in with a big grin.

“Where did you disappear to last night?” Al asked.

“I went out for some air.” (Actually he had given up all hope of picking up a girl and was on his way back to the motel.) “And this woman, Jenny, asked me to help her park her car. So I did, and then she took me to the big disco at the Mother Lode and we danced and had a few drinks and... then we went to her apartment. She thinks I’m cute. How did you make out with Noreen?”

Al looked shocked, “Noreen isn’t that kind of girl.” He walked into the other room. Herbert gave Jeff a puzzled look to which Jeff shrugged and smiled.

The Commodore was still hiding under his pillow, so they left him to suffer alone and went to Zim’s for breakfast. 

“After 356 years you’d think I’d know better than that.” He thought to himself... quietly.

***

It wasn’t until 1:00 pm that they finally set off to tour the city. They went first to Fisherman’s Wharf and looked at the shops and tourist things. Then they drove across town to Golden Gate Park and visited the Natural History and Art museums. By 5:00 pm they were on their way back to the motel. But first they stopped at a gas station to use the phones. Al called Noreen, while Herbert called Jenny, while Jeff called his mother.

“Hi, Mom... Yeah, we’re fine. Just called to say we’re okay and we are going to stay in the city for a couple more days... Yeah. He’s right here. You want to talk to him?” To Clarence, “She wants to talk to you.”

Clarence who had been standing nearby fidgeting, took the phone, covered the mouthpiece and asked Jeff to go over to the car and get the notebook he left on the seat.

Jeff returned with the notebook. “What?” Oh, thank you,” Clarence slipped it in his pocket. “Jeff’s back so I’ll let him talk to you.”

“Jeffry, Barbara is here and she wants to talk to you about something...”

“Jeff?”

“Hi, Barb. What’s up?”

“Promise you won’t be mad at me.”

“Barbara this is a long distance call, don’t be coy.”

“I told Ann about the aliens. She’s my best friend and it would be like a violation of trust if I didn’t confide in her.”

“Okay. Okay. If you did, you did. She knows not to spread it around doesn’t she?”

“She only told her boyfriend.”

“Uh huh. Who’s that?”


“Tod Wheelwright.”

“The sheriff's son? How nice. I suppose he...”

“Yes. And they towed in your car and talked to Becky and Robin. Jeff, I feel real bad about this. Please say you’re not mad.”

“Yeah, right. Let me think a minute... all they have is our license plate number and our descriptions but that’s not too bad. They don’t know where in California we are or what the car looks like. Right?”

“....”

“Barb? They don’t know about the car do they?”

“But Jeff, that’s the best part of the story... the old Cadillac that flies.”

“I gotta go, I’ll kill you later, Barbara.”

He went to Herbert’s phone booth, “We have to go.”

“Right.” To the phone, “Jenny, I have to go. Talk to you soon... Will you really? Me too. Bye.” He hung up beaming, “She said she’s going to miss me in bed tonight.”

He was so delighted he didn’t need a response, so Jeff ignored him and nudged Al, “Gotta go.”

“Noreen... Oh, Noreen...” He started to sniffle.

Jeff grabbed the phone, “Noreen, Al has to go. He’ll call you later. Bye.”

“I love you!” Al shouted emotionally at the phone, though it looked to the tourist family at the pumps like he was saying this to Jeff.

“Mommy, why did that man say...”

“Shut up, Cindy Lee, and get back in the car” her father shouted.

On the way to the motel Jeff explained the situation to the others. Clarence decided to pack up and get out of town. Clarence found that he had a plan again. Al argued against leaving town as they quickly packed their things and loaded the car. Half an hour after the call, they were on Lombard driving for the bridge. But they never made it.

315. Martians in Mill Valley - Part 2

Link to Table of Contents

Martians in Mill Valley

Part 2

(Translated from the Atlantian.)

“This is Kite Andax Witrow with Blue Sector Communication’s  News On The Hour.”

 *Sounder* 

“Tonight, the 6:00 news is sponsored by Angel’s Massage parlors -- there’s an Angel in your neighborhood.

“Top stories this hour: Earth expedition returning after successful mission; Commodore Reedowtable does it again; Settlement reached in Air Workers strike; and, Federal Councilman Rudle today denied that the Octopus-Osprey coalition’s future is bleak and proposed a new ten year plan at a Veterans of Intergalactic Wars Congress.

“But first, the local news and an up-to-the-moment report from Turl Felix Duban in Commuter Watch One. Turl... Are you there, Turl?... I guess he isn’t. We’ll get back....” 

“Kite?”

“Turl, can you hear me now?”

“What?”

“Turl?”

“Right, Kite. The Trans-abyss Flyover Tube is shooting smooth; but I can see congestion on the Blue side approach interface of the Blue-Gold Inter-sector tube. There is also a blockage on the Transverse Intra-sector Express Conveyor at about Node B-11. But overall, traffic is moving well. Kite.”

“Say Turl, what’s it look like out there?”

“Like I said, traffic is flowing smoothly except...”

“No, Turl. I mean outside.”

“You mean...”

“Yeah.”

“Uhhh... Well... It’s mostly, well, black... with lots of little points of light... stars, you know.”

“Uh huh.”

“....”

“Well, thanks Turl. We’ll get back to you later for another report..

“In local news: Dangela Eudo Blitnor, Octopus Party committee person in Node- A-9, was indicted today on a charge of ballot tampering in last month’s vice-satrapial election. President Blurg approved plans for a bypass pedestrian conveyor between Nodes C-4 and B-6 to be completed within four years. Sector weather will continue within comfort norms with temperatures in Nodes B-1, C-12, and B-8 rising slowly back to comfort mean. The Department of Environment warns that the heat wave in Node C2 will continue for at least two more days. The gravity reading, here at our Blue Communications offices, is point 9-2 and steady.

“After a word from our sponsor, we’ll be back with regional and national news.”

“Hi, Sugar. Have a rough day? Does the Little Woman have that nasty headache again? Well, come on down to Angel, Honey, and she’ll make you feel all better. Angel’s Massage Parlors, 553 locations all over New Atlantis. Cartelcards welcome... and also good old cash. Nebula Value Stamps with each Private Hot Session. Remember, Sugar, at Angel’s We’ll Do It.”

“Returning to the news, Under-Viceroy Cheetnam disclosed inflation rose two percentage points in the past quarter to 19%. This makes 1,157 consecutive quarters of double digit inflation.

“The stock market fell below 1,000 in disgruntled trading. Market analysts pointed to the inflation report and continuing uncertainty about the future of the Octopus-Osprey coalition government following last month’s scandal as explanation for the poor showing. Government spokespeople, however, dismissed the one hundred point one day drop as a “Friday Funk.”

“On the war fronts: Commodore Reedowtable routed the Raafian Main Fleet in fighting near supply base Hector. Observers at the scene report there is no longer any organized opposition on the Raafian front. Admiral Doonder, on the other hand, remains optimistic following the loss of two more ships to Dool ambush. The threatened Lodi colony has been successfully evacuated.

“The top story of the hour: Polymath Doodle at Mission Control reported today that The Burlingame Explorer is on its way back to New Atlantis after a successful mission. Commander Byootiful, on board the Burlingame Explorer, termed the operation routine and uneventful. The stealth surveillance satellite left in Earth orbit is operating perfectly and will continue provide us with data for at least fifty years. Polymath Doodle also announced that preliminary data suggests the target area, called “California” by Earthmen, is inhabited by two distinct tribal ethnic groups: civilized and sane in the north; degenerate and unbalanced in the south. 

“And that’s the 6:00 news from Blue Sector Communication on this the 23rd day of May 3257 N.C.”

***

(Translator’s note: N.C. stands for New Calendar. Also, the middle name of an Atlantian indicates sexual orientation. For instance, Kite Witrow’s middle name, “Andax,” indicates that he is heterosexual, impotent, and sterile, among other things. There are ninety-seven different middle names now in use on New Atlantis.)

***

“The following is a paid political announcement.”

“For 370 years the Osprey and Octopus parties have governed New Atlantis, either singly or in concert. Their Galactic Imperialism has bred graft, corruption, inefficiency, and death. We of the Phoenix party, the party of rebirth, urge you to replace rapine with responsibility and vote for Phoenix party council persons in next month’s Federal election. Thank you.”

***

“With tonight’s Blue Communication Editorial, here’s station manager Grouch Hendwik.”

“It is now 3265 N.C. and the Phoenix party has controlled the Council of Eleven for half the ten year term they were elected to. It is time, I think, for an assessment. The most obvious changes in the past five years have been in foreign policy. We have pulled out of three hostile solar systems and made peace, on unfavorable terms, with the Raafians and the Dool. The military has been cut by a quarter. The Federal budget by a third. Retrenchment has not pleased everyone, but most citizens seem to approve the actions of the new government. For the first time in three hundred years the rate of inflation has fallen below ten percent and many observers are predicting a five percent rate by the end of the decade.

“For the first time in four hundred years we are not at war anywhere in the galaxy. Council person Larksbar has spoken of a Golden Age of science and culture, and this prospect does seem within our grasp.

“And yet there is a blemish on the record of the Phoenix administration -- the cancellation of the Earth expedition. In a little more that twenty years we will re-enter our ancestral solar system, and we will sorely miss the information this project would have given us. It is still not too late, though every passing year makes the task more risky. I urge you to write the Council of Eleven and ask that this crucial project be reconsidered. Thank you.”

***

*Sounder*
“A quick summary of the hour’s top stories: Phoenix party retains power in coalition with Albatross party. Government orders resumption of Earth project, renamed Operation Odyssey; Stock Market falls below 1,000 with news of new Phoenix government; arson suspected in fire that killed twenty in Node B-3 last night.

“And now a quick report from Commuter Watch One, Turl?”

“Right, Kite. There’s just a mess of a jam-up on the Blue-Red Tube. If you’re going to Red Sector I suggest you detour by way of Green Sector.

“That new C-4, B-6 bypass conveyor may have taken over thirteen years to complete but it is finally working smoothly which should ease congestion in the middle tier.

“Kite, I just gotta tell you how beautiful it is out here this afternoon. The titanic bulk of New Atlantis is a womb-like, soft, warm, orange mass filling the heavens. A glorious shelter in the infinite black void of space.”

“Okay, Turl. After this word from...”

“And Kite, you know the old Mother Ship just looks alive with all the tubes shooting, and you can just sense all the millions of people in there eating and sleeping, living and dying, loving and dreaming....”

“Yeah, Turl. Must be something. Now this word from our sponsor.”

***

“This is Grouch Hendwik with another Blue Communications editorial. When the government cut Operation Odyssey from ten ships to one in 3273, I cried betrayal, but at least the project survived. Now, only two years later, the life of Operation Odyssey is in mortal danger. The three month strike by the Amalgamated Gravity Workers has stopped work with no resumption in sight. We can not allow such a vital project to be left literally up in the air at the whim of a renegade labor union. The government must end this disastrous strike quickly... one way or another. Thank you.”

***

“Today is a proud day for the government and people of New Atlantis. In a few moments the Operation Odyssey crew, led by Commodore Reedowtable, will set out for Earth. What has happened there in the fifteen years since our satellite failed, we do not know. But we are confident our people will be able to successfully carry out their mission -- to gather essential information on the present inhabitants of Earth, and to pave the way for the establishment of peaceful relations between our people and the people of Earth.”

***

And thus it was that a brave crew of three Atlantians left New Atlantis, 3,276 years after the exiling of their ancestors, and set out for Earth in a ship that was an exact replica of a 1958 Cadillac. They would reach Earth, ten light years away, in two solar years and land in Northern California in the early summer of 1979 CE by the local calendar.