David Larson - The Myth of the Anal Probe

“We tend to adapt pretty quick here,” Brizio said. “Our original language is closer to pure Hawaiian, or Samoan than what we currently speak. But that kind of makes historical sense, doesn’t it.”

“How?” Mike asked.

“If you were going to populate your planet,” Bob asked him “where would the most beautiful place on Earth be, that was also secluded enough to start the colonization without too much outside interference?”

“I guess I’d have to say in the South Pacific islands,” Mike said.

“Bingo dude. So, before you rupture your brain testicles any trying to do the relatively easy math; Mike and Gloria, your Adam and Eve, were Hawaiian.”

“I’ll be damned,” Mike said.

“Probably,” Bob said, “especially after what we all heard on your interview.”

Mike just glared at Bob.

“Wait a minute,” Mike said. “How could you have started this whole mess in Hawaii? Humans have been on the Earth longer than the Hawaiian Islands have existed.”

“First,” Bob said “all of that is as far as you know. Second, are you sure you’re talking about humans . The question you should be asking here is, why have you never found the missing link?”

Bob just raised his eyebrows.

“Because there ain’t one,” he finally said.

Brizio just smiled and shrugged.

“Explain the Italian part then,” Mike said.

“That’s pretty easy as well,” Brizio said. “We spent quite a lot of time with the Romans back when they were in vogue. Of course, they spoke mostly Latin. But, we stuck with them through the fall of their empire because we thought they could make a pretty awesome comeback. Then there was that whole thing with Constantine, and the ‘vision’,” Brizio made ‘air quotes,’ “and they became the ‘Holy’ Roman Empire, and things kind of went downhill from there. But the language that was beginning to form was pretty captivating.”

“Yeah,” Bob said. “Captivating.”

“So we started to assimilate it into our speech patterns,” Brizio went on “and it kind of just evolved into what you hear now.”

The music went silent.

“Hey, Maestro,” Bob said as he pointed to the ceiling. Best Friend by Sofi Tukker started to roll through the air.

“Thanks,” Brizio said.

“So it looked like you were pretty upset on the interview,” Brizio said.

“Yeah,” Mike said, “I guess I was. It’s just pretty hard to learn that there is actually a species out there that is pretty much devoid of our human failings. Then to have to explain all of the bullshit, that we have spent lifetimes convincing ourselves is out of our power to control, is really depressing.”

“I honestly don’t understand how you people can function from one day to the next,” Brizio said. “I would be looking over my shoulder every single minute of every day.”

“Being here,” Mike said, “removed from all of the unnecessary issues on Earth makes me realize that in fact I did spend my entire life looking over my shoulder. Trust in one of the biggest intangible assets on Earth. I don’t think people every really trust another person. I mean, lots of people say they do, and I guess they really believe they do. But as soon as someone starts acting suspicious people get on edge. If they really did trust that person they would simply ask what was up and accept that answer. The fact that they’ll question it says everything you need to know about trust.”

“I guess it does,” said Bob. “Do you think that anything you take back with you will even start to scratch the surface of change?”

Mike felt a twinge of guilt right in the center of his forehead. He knew that everything he was doing right now was the basest form of human shenanigans. He was trying to keep these people at bay with bullshit about going back home until he could figure out a way to convince them he should stay. It wasn’t hurting anyone else of course. But at the core of it, wasn’t this exactly what he was trying to run away from, just as fast as he could.

“I really think I can,” Mike lied. But he didn’t just lie. No, he lied really, really well. He lied good enough that he was sure his two table mates bought the bullshit he was putting out. And after all, why wouldn’t they. Deception was completely new to them.

Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones started to play.

“Shit,” Mike thought. “I have to be more careful about what I think here.”

And there it was again. Human deceit. Mike was slammed into full-on Red Bull energy denial. He kept telling himself that it was just for now. That he would control his human disease after he got what he wanted. If he played his hand now they’d drop kick his butt right onto the next deep space probe for a one-way trip to earth. That’s it, game over, do not pass go, do not collect $200, and the fat lady sings for the masses.

Mike was looking down at the table concentrating. Suddenly his head snapped up and a broad grin spread across his face.

Slowly, overhead, the pinging of a banjo could be heard. As it grew it sounded almost like a train was slowly starting to roll out of the station. The banjo kept on restlessly pinging out the same mechanical rhythm. Then a long easy draw across the strings of a smoky mountain fiddle slid into the background. The sweet harmony of the two together settled into the soul of the room. Everybody seemed to stop what they were doing and listened to the slow, painfully beautiful blend of the two instruments.

Then a guitar joined in. The beat was bouncy and playful. Bob looked up at Mike, then at Brizio and smiled. The fiddle drug in the other direction then back again, like it was stepping down… no, that wasn’t it. The notes were stepping down the scale, but the music was stepping up. It was building. And it just kept building until the room was about to burst.

“Oh man,” Bob said.

Mike smiled bigger.

“Slap my momma and call her butch!” Bob yelled as he jumped off the bench and grabbed Brizio.

The fiddle slammed into the fast roll of The Orange Blossom Special. Bob and Brizio spun around the open floor. A woman slid by and jerked Mike off the bench, twirled him around once and they were off, dancing to the sound of the runaway fiddle. Everyone was up and moving as one entity, intermingled and swirling joyfully around the room.

The music stopped and everyone fell onto the benches lining the open-air dining hall. Mike flopped down next to the woman he had been dancing with and they both laughed. Again, life was beautiful and the air was a sweet delicacy that Mike sucked deeply into his lungs. Life was good, he’d live forever, and he’d never have to go back to earth.

Overhead, bongos started to drive relentlessly. Then there was a primal scream, then another. A piano cord was struck. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I’m a man of wealth and taste…”

“Shit,” Mike thought.

Mike sat in the capsule car lost in his thoughts. The virtual landscape, which had been made no less breathtaking in its digital reproduction, slid by unnoticed to him. He was thinking about what lay ahead of him at the end of this tram ride.

His thoughts had been almost singularly about Tawny since he left the interview. She was the most captivating person he had ever met. Of course, she was the kind of beautiful that almost commanded observation in awe and wide-eyed admiration. But it was deeper than just a physical attraction. Tawny was also the perfect combination of intellectually smart, deep, and playful at the same time. She had a razor-sharp wit that was always front and center. And, well-traveled? She lived in a part of the universe that was totally unknown to human science. That was pretty well-traveled. That kind of beat the hell out of being all haughty about having been to the French Riviera when all your friends simply went to Disneyland once a year.