The Lunatic Fringe

by Adrienne Ray © 2003

The week after the fall of Washington was a nightmare. The Vesgas, as they called themselves, interviewed the surviving citizens meticulously. They wanted to document the culture they were destroying.

The Vesgas looked almost human but they were all over seven feet tall. They weighed at least 500 pounds. It seemed as if the Aryan race had been successful in breeding the superior race on their planet.

After 36 hours of interrogation, George Bush was more concerned about Condalessa Rice then about the collapse of his government.

Once he had thought she was a pillar of strength. Now she seemed to be getting weaker by the minute. They sat in the gray interrogation room of the DC police station. Across from them were two aliens.

Ahn was apparently the ranking officer. Becho was clearly his subordinate. The aliens had asked every possible question imaginable: what they ate, where they lived, what game the Redskins used to play. They had been drugged, beaten, starved- whatever the Vesgas thought would get the information. Bush thought there wasn’t anything else they could ask.

“One more question before you leave us. Then we will decide whether we will return you to your prison or send you to whatever afterlife you believe to exist,” Becho said. He leaned across the table as if he were trying to establish intimacy. Perhaps he thought this would make the humans confide in him. “Who are the aliens that came here before us?”

“Wh-wh-what aliens?” Bush stammered.

“We have documented many cases of humans being examined by an alien race. They said the aliens were small, slight of build with almond shaped eyes. Like this.” Ahn showed Bush a pencil drawing. Bush laughed hysterically. It was all too surreal.

“You’ve been talking to the lunatic fringe,” Bush said. “It’s just a legend.”

“We understand a ship landed in your Western region, in a place called Roswell.’

“No. That’s just a story,” Bush giggled. His laughter unnerved Rice. She started to cry.

“Your air force has suppressed any information concerning these aliens.”

“It’s an urban legend! A lie!!! People made it up!!!” Bush cried. “What are you? Stupid??!”

Becho reached across the table and punched the president. Bush flew backward as if he’d been pulled by an invisible string. He fell against the wall and landed on the floor in a disheveled heap.

Becho picked up his limp body and was going to finish him when Condalessa screamed, “NO!! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!! Please don’t hit him again!!!”

Becho dropped him and sat back in his chair. Condalessa sobbed quietly as the aliens shuffled their paper work and prepared for her in depth information.

“It was a very hush-hush operation,” she sobbed. “I never knew their name. We kept their activities quiet in return for our personal safety. I-I know that’s not very patriotic but you have no idea what a person would do to keep away from their examination tables.”

Ahn silently recorded her words. Perhaps it was his officer training. Becho found the concept of unknown aliens somewhat unsettling.

“What was their mission?” Becho asked.

“I’m not really sure,” Condalessa said. She wrinkled her brow as if she wanted some questions herself. “They would capture people and take them up to their spaceships....Sometimes they use a cattle prod...”

She drew what she thought a cattle prod was and what she thought the aliens used them for. Becho raised an alien eyebrow.

Ahn put the picture in his file.

“Where did these people come from?” Becho asked nervously. He crossed his legs which is something Vesgas never do.

“I thought you might know,” Condalessa said. “Since they seem to come from the same direction as you.”

“We’ve never encountered them,” Becho said. He drummed his fingers on the table until Ahn told him to stop.

“Maybe you’ve encountered them and don’t know it,” Condalessa said. “See, they abduct you in your sleep. You just think you’ve had a bad dream. Do the Vesgas dream?”

“No.” Ahn said.

“Sometimes we dream.” Becho said. Then he shrunk from Ahn’s glaring disapproval.

“Or you might just black out,” she continued. “The only way you know you’ve been abducted is you look at your watch and realize you’ve lost hours...sometimes don’t even know they did anything.”

Becho fidgeted in his chair. Ahn looked at her but showed no emotion.

“Don’t you know who they are, Mr. Ahn?” she asked innocently. “They always have a contact in the military...among the officers...”

“What?” Ahn said. For the first time his officer training was not of any help to him.

“She said, the military officers know about these aliens,” Becho said. “They cover for the aliens and, in return, the aliens don’t ‘examine’ any of the officers.”

They launched into an argument in their native tongue.

“Todos yen, Ahn? Todas yen ada cah-tell-prood?”

“Nyat! Nyat!! Ne pas aldos cah-tell-prood!!”

There was a blinding flash of light. When she could see again, she saw Becho, deathray in hand, standing over Ahn.

Two alien soldiers rushed in. “What happened here?” one of the soldiers asked.

Becho looked around wildly. He screamed at Condalessa, “Tell them about the cattle prod!!!”

“Sit down, boys,” Condalessa said, smiling. “Let me draw you a picture.”

x x x

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