David Larson - The Myth of the Anal Probe

“First he has to be has to be born of a divine being and a mortal that is a virgin. What’s up with you people and virgins by the way? If you check the stories, all Jesus-like characters in mythology came from the same humble beginnings. Next, they had to incorporate the holidays. Jesus’ birthday would coincide with the winter solstice his death with the spring festivities and so on.

“And finally, since Constantine had no intention of giving up his pagan ways, the Sabbath would be held during his original Sun God’s day… Sunday. Think about it, Jesus was a Jew, and a rabbi. So wouldn’t his followers, Christians, observe the same days Jesus did? Like the Sabbath on Saturday, Hanukah, and all that other stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mike said. “I never really put much thought into it.”

“Of course not,” Bob went on. “Thinking rocks your boat, and you people HATE having your boat rocked. But, I digress.

“It seemed like everything we touched turned to shit. We realized that the Earth was going to be involved in a significant metrological event. So one of our guys stops by to tell Noah he might want to build a boat and let everybody else know what’s coming. Well as you know, everybody else gives him the finger, he loads up everything he can into his eager little craft and off they float.

“Job well done, lots of back slapping on the flight deck of the ‘Divine Intervention’, then what do they see? Two months after the water recedes, that jackass Noah is still sitting in his boat waiting for God to tell him he can disembark. TWO MONTHS! They almost died in there because we never thought to tell them to get out and find something to eat”!

“Boy,” Mike said. “When you put it like that I guess we are special.”

“I know its tough buddy” Bob said quietly “but them was the cards you was dealt.”

“So then what am I doing here?”

“Glad you asked,” Bob said. “We stop by occasionally to see how things are going and we take random samples. For example...you.”

“Thanks,” Mike said, not looking up from the floor.

“You’re welcome. We don’t give out technology anymore. Think of it as an electric fence around the live stock. We don’t want you out roaming around the galaxy raising hell and knocking things over.”

“We already have space travel,” Mike said.

“Actually, all you’ve done is go to your moon a few times and drop off some litter. The rest of that knowledge and technology you use to spy on each other and blow things up. We aren’t real worried about a bunch of wild-eyed Earthlings busting through a worm hole screaming ‘yee haw’ with guns a-blazin’ anytime soon. You’re far too preoccupied with screwing up each others lives.”

“Good point.”

“I have my moments.”

“So what now?”

“We put you back where ever you want to go.”

“Just like that?”

“Yep.”

“Then what was the point to all of this? Was it just some kind of a personal ass chewing?”

“Not at all. We know you’re evolving constantly. We find someone like you, give you all the knowledge of how things really are. Then we see what you do with it.”

“And what is usually done with it?”

“I think you already know that. Some people run around yelling about having things stuck up their ass. Some people decide no one will listen and keep the whole thing to themselves. But, you also have the Mother Teresa and Gandhi types on one hand, and the Hitler, Pol Pot, and Idi Amin types on the other.”

“You mean they…?” Mike asked.

“Yep,” Bob said. “Now you just tell us were you’d like to get dropped off and the rest is up to you.”

“I think that I may have a better idea,” Mike said thoughtfully.

Absolutely no one on the flight deck of the Douglas Adams was happy. Crew members sat impassively boring holes in control consoles with their eyes. Their faces were fixed with unmoving stares that would have been better served on the faces of post-apocalyptic holocaust survivors on Day One of the end of every single creature comfort they had ever known.

Gary sat slumped in the commander’s chair. His erect posture was gone, reading glasses dangling from a left hand that was woefully weighing down the attached arm as it lay depressingly draped over the lushly padded arm rest. He was deeply kneading the bridge of his nose between tightly clenched eyes.

Bob stood facing him. Hands shoved so far into the front pockets of his well-worn jeans that they seemed to be pulling his waist forward at an odd angle. His legs were spread comfortably apart, and he stared at Gary with that infinite air of patience that usually made people want to smash him right in his sanctimonious face.

“Let me see if I get this right,” Gary said, still rubbing his nose as if his life depended on it. “Our guest is now all about trying to do the right thing and affect some type of change on the little house of horrors that we built so long ago.” He stopped the incessant rubbing, and stared at his neatly polished shoes.

“But in order to do this he wants us to take him home with us first. That way he can get a better handle on how we live as a peaceful, thriving society.” Gary looked up and glared at Bob.

“Is that about right?”

“Yup,” Bob said as he rocked back on his heels.

“And you think this is a good idea?” Gary asked, more as an indictment than an actual question.

“Yup,” Bob said.

“Can you give me any shred of sane thought as to how you came to this conclusion? How you decided that bringing a mentally disturbed, hostile, violent being like this, unfettered, back to our world was a good idea?” Gary asked through clenched teeth. “And remember, I specifically put emphases on the word sane.”

“Yup…” Bob said, as he smiled smugly.

“I swear Bob,” Gary said as he went back to rubbing his temples with both hands “One of these days you’re going to go too damned far.”

“Look,” Bob started as he freed one hand from a frayed pocket. “How long did you think it was going to be before one of these poor unfortunates was going to ask for that very same thing? And at some point we were going to have to acquiesce?”

“That question,” Gary said pointing at Bob with his readers “has been asked and answered in the past Bob. And it will be the same answer right now.”

“I know the history,” Bob said. “The future King David and that other one…” Bob snapped his fingers repeatedly in an effort to help the name materialize in his brain. “Ummmmmmmmmmm, dingle berry, boysenberry…”

“Roddenberry?” Gary helped.

“Yeah, that guy,” Bob said with one final finger snap for emphasis.

“Gene. Those guys were real thinkers, and just chomping at the bit to do something positive. I know we didn’t even consider it for the ancients. I mean they were just waaaaaaaay to far out there in the flogging and killing department. And the more recent ones, well, I personally think we just got a little too big for our holier-than-thou britches. Roddenberry would have been the perfect candidate.”

“Look,” Bob continued with both hands outstretched, palms up.

“How long have we been doing this? Thousands of years at least. We keep getting the same results from doing the same things over and over. We’re constantly hoping that eventually we get the right combination of personality and time in history to turn this high-speed train of misery around.

Look what happened to that Koresh kid. What a goat rope. And we just sat up here clicking our tongues and shaking our heads like we were completely blameless in that mess. And that young girl… ah… Joan, from France. Come on Gary.”