How I Conquered Your Planet (5 page)

“
Do you have an Interplanetary Travel Permit?” one of them
asked.

“
I might. What does it look like?”

“
If you had one you would know what it looked like.”

“
I think you might be overestimating my intelligence,” I said
stiffly.

I said they were welcome to look through my wallet, but then I
noticed they were already doing that.

They asked me to turn myself inside out, so they could compare
my insides to some kind of list they had. I said I couldn’t. Couldn’t or
wouldn’t? Well, both, I guess. They didn’t like my attitude. I didn’t like
their attitude either. It was a standoff.

They huddled for awhile, then told me I was going to have to
wait in an Official Waiting Area – which turned out to be a chair – until such
time as I had proper papers. I asked how I was going to get these proper papers
sitting in the chair and they said that was no longer their problem. It was the
chair’s problem now.

I didn’t want any trouble – at least not any more than I
already had – so I sat down in the chair. Sitting in the chair next to me was a
skeleton. After a couple of hours, I tried sitting in a different chair, one
that seemed more promising, to have more going for it, to see if that would
result in more action. It didn’t.

Since nobody seemed to be paying much attention to me, (I was
the chair’s problem, not theirs) I got up and wandered out into the main
concourse. I heard lots of sirens going off as I left the security area, but
nobody followed me right away because they were too busy holding their hands
over their ears and trying to turn the sirens down. I found out later they’d
been having problems with that ever since they had built that terminal.

As I passed through each security checkpoint, more sirens went
off and more people began holding their ears and making phone calls to the
siren company.

I wandered outside and took a look around. I wondered why I was
brought to this planet, and what I was supposed to do now? Certainly not just
walk up and down the streets eating a hot dog like I was currently doing. No
one would have brought me millions of miles through space just for that.
Nobody’s that eccentric. I asked a few pedestrians what they thought was going
on, but they just gave me a look and hurried away. Of course I hadn’t shaved or
bathed in a week - five weeks, come to think of it. That might have had
something to do with it.

The only people I met who weren’t afraid to talk to me were people
who wanted to sell me things. They didn’t seem to be interested in the fact
that I didn’t want the things they were selling, or that I was a monster from
another planet. All that mattered to them was making sure I didn’t miss out on
a great bargain.

“
It’s one of a kind,” they would say, waving something awful in
my face.

“
Good.”

“
You’ll never see another one,” they would add, making it squeak
and smile.

“
I hope to God you’re right.”

Since nobody was giving me any information, and I’d already
bought three of those squeaky smiley things, I finally decided to quit worrying
about why I was here and just spend the day taking in the sights. Martian
cities are something to see, let me tell you. There’s neon and chrome
everywhere, and electricity going up poles, and lots of theremin sounds. You
could tell you were on Mars all right. It had all the flash and glitter of a
drive-in movie theater. I could tell the Martians were far ahead of us. Or at
least as far ahead of us as drive-in movie theaters are.

I had a small camera with me, so I started taking pictures of
anything that looked interesting. It occurred to me that pictures of a Martian
city might be worth money back on Earth. Assuming I ever got back to Earth, of
course.

Finally I got tired of walking and stopped at an outdoor café.
There was a newspaper on the chair next to me. It was an extra. All about the
lunatic who had escaped from authorities at the terminal. I elbowed the guy at
the next table and showed him the paper.

“
Does this look like me?”

He looked at the picture, then at me.

“
Kind of,” he said. “Screw your face up a little more.”

“
What do you mean ‘a little more’?”

“
Never mind.”

I wanted to know what he meant, but at that moment, a small man
in some kind of official uniform rushed up to my table, mopping his forehead
and looking apologetic.

“
Frank Burly?”

“
Speaking.”

“
Thank heavens I’ve found you. I was delayed in traffic or I
would have met you at the spaceport. Come with me. You’re under arrest.”

Since he didn’t have a badge or any weapon that I could see, I
stayed seated. I don’t get up just because somebody tells me to. I looked
pointedly at his gun hand and cleared my throat. He apologized again and looked
through his pockets until he found a ray gun. He pointed it at me and repeated
his assertion that I was under arrest. I nodded and went along with him.

I was escorted to a nearby government building and turned over
to a larger, less apologetic man.

“
I bid you welcome to our world,” he said. “Strip to your
shorts.”

I did as I was asked. My clothes were taken away, and I was
given a kind of futuristic smock to wear. Then I was escorted into a small room
where three stern-faced men sat glaring at me. I was certainly meeting a lot of
men today. I sat down. No one said anything for awhile.

I decided it would be best to be pleasant, since these people,
whoever they were, seemed to be holding all the cards. I smiled at them.
“Hello,” I said engagingly.

They stared at me.

“
My name is Frank Burly.”

Silence.

“
Friendly Frank Burly, they call me. The Inquisitor’s Friend.”

More silence. I slicked back my hair and brushed some crumbs
off my lap.

“
I hope my appearance is pleasing to you. As well as my
demeanor.”

They continued to stare at me stonily. I started to get
steamed. “Aw, who cares, anyway? So what? Who are you guys anyhow?”

“
We are The Council,” said the one in the middle, whose name was
a Martian word that sounded a lot like Frederick.

“
That’s kind of vague, isn’t it?” I asked. “I mean, ‘The
Council’ doesn’t really explain who you are.”

“
You see? He thinks so too,” said the man on Frederick’s left.

“
Quiet, Philip,” said Frederick. “We’ll resume our discussion
about that at ‘The Arguing Time’.”

“
There’s another one!” Philip and I both exclaimed.

“
Silence!” snapped Frederick. “You were brought to Mars before
‘The Council’, Mr. Burly, because it was feared you were becoming a danger to
our plans.”

“
What plans?”

“
Never mind.”

“
I want to hear about those plans.”

They wouldn’t tell me any more.

“
Well if I’m such a danger to these “plans” you claim to have but
can’t produce, why did you bother to bring me all the way up here? Why didn’t
you just kill me?”

“
We never thought of that,” said Philip. They looked at me with
sudden respect. It’s about time somebody looked at me with respect. A man needs
that once in awhile.

The third member of The Council, a gaunt aged man with a long
white beard, whose name sounded like it was “Stinky”, held up the camera that
had been found in my pants pocket.

“
You have been taking photographs of our most top secret parks,
statues, stray dogs and delivery trucks. With this…” He squinted his eyes to
read the brand name. “SpyMaster 3000. Why should we not treat you as a spy?”

“
Spies aren’t the only people who take pictures. Saboteurs do it
too. And perverts.” I tried to think of other people who took pictures, but
couldn’t think of any more. “Everybody does it.”

They didn’t seem convinced. Stinky examined the Spymaster 3000
again, accidentally taking his own picture a hundred times.

I started to get impatient. “Hey, when can I get out of here?
When can I go home?”

“
When you have answered all of our questions,” said Frederick.

“
Okay, then, let’s get on with it.”

“
Very well. What weapons does your planet have to attack us
with?”

“
Or to defend against us,” added Philip.

“
Quiet.”

“
Oh, yeah, right.”

“
Answer, Earthman.”

“
Earth doesn’t have any weapons to attack you with. Earth thinks
Mars is uninhabited.”

Philip said: “But your movies…”

“
Pure fiction.”

“
What!”

“
Where do they think flying saucers come from then?” demanded
Frederick.

“
Most people think the Air Force is making all that flying
saucer stuff up.”

“
Why?”

“
Most people don’t know.”

The Council members wrote down this new information, after
erasing a lot of their earlier notes.

“
I see… and um… what about nuclear bombs?” asked Frederick. “How
many nuclear bombs does the Earth have, Mr. Burly? Be honest now.”

“
Uh… seven.”

The Council members exchanged meaningful looks.

Stinky shook his head. “Oh, Man! Man! Once long ago we too had
our Atomic Age. We nearly destroyed ourselves. But we learned to control our
emotions, we gained wisdom, and so the danger passed. But you, with your stupid
minds, are not ready to wield such power.”

“
And you are, eh?”

“
Never mind us. We’re talking about you. You’re not ready. We’re
plenty ready.”

“
Baloney.”

Stinky bristled. “That’s one of the things holding your planet
back – smart remarks like that. Oh, Man! Man!”

I was getting mad. “I’m liable to sock you in the nose in a
minute,” I warned them. “Don’t think it couldn’t happen.”

“
You better not sock The Council in the nose,” warned Frederick.

“
That’s out,” added Philip.

“
Okay, I won’t. But watch your mouth.”

“
Agreed.”

“
Anyway,” I explained, “our atomic bombs are for peaceful
purposes.”

“
Such as?”

“
Uh… blowing up… wars.”

This set Stinky off again. “Oh, Man! Man!”

Frederick held up a restraining hand. Stinky sat back down.

“
Now to the most important question,” said Frederick. “How much
do you know about our activities on Earth and how much have you told others?”

I told them the few things I knew, and some of the things I’d
guessed. They listened attentively.

“
Accurate as far as it goes,” admitted Frederick. “Though I
don’t understand the part about the Van Allen Radiation Belts.”

“
That’s just a theory at this point,” I explained.

“
I see… and who have you shared this information with?”

“
I told the cops some of it, but they couldn’t really understand
what I was saying because my mouth was full of their stuff.”

“
You told no one else?”

“
No.”

They relaxed. “Then no harm has been done,” said Philip. He
indicated me. “What shall we do with him?”

“
Let’s return him home unharmed.”

“
We weren’t talking to you, Mr. Burly.”

They talked it over. They didn’t see how they could return me
to Earth with what I knew now. “He could tell them about The Council!” fretted
Frederick.

I raised a hand. “This is a stupid question, but…”

“
All your questions are stupid.”

“
Yes… well… anyway… since you’re so advanced and everything, why
can’t you just remove my memories of the past week, then send me home? I won’t
know any of this ever happened. I’ll be a week late for everything for the rest
of my life, but what else is new?”

They were intrigued by the idea, with one modification. Why not
wipe out my entire memory and replace it with something they liked better?

“
Hey, wait a minute…” I said.

The Council voted. None of my votes were counted, because they
said I wasn’t a member of The Council. It was decided that I would be
brainwashed and reprogrammed to be a Martian. My treatments would begin at
once.

I needed to do something quick. I figured our germs might do
them in, I’d read something about that somewhere, so I tried coughing in their
faces. After about ten coughs they told me to quit it. I tried a couple more
coughs, then gave it up.

Now that my fate had been decided, and we didn’t have to worry
about me anymore, the Martians became less formal and more chatty.

Philip asked me: “When you were on Earth did you ever see a
television program called ‘My Favorite Martian’?”