The Fresco (12 page)

“Ah. Your nation, however, wishes to be a
good
nation, and it therefore despises despots, regarding them as evil and rejoicing when one of them is overthrown. Is this so?”

The FL put down her fork and took a deep breath. “Yes. This is so.”

“Ah. Now to our confusion. If a person torturing and killing people is evil, why are gods who torture and kill people called good?”

The SOS patted her lips with her napkin and said to the FL, “Don't look at me.”

The FL glanced along the table, catching Benita's eye.

“Do you have an answer for our guest?” the FL asked.

Benita thought for a moment. “I can quote something I've read. Some professor of history wrote that cultures define their gods when they're young and primitive, when their main concern is survival. They endow their gods with survival characteristics like omnipotence and authoritarianism, belligerence and suspicion, and that's what goes into all their myths or scriptures. Then, if they survive long enough, they begin to develop morality. They examine their own history, and they learn that authoritarianism doesn't accord with free will, that belligerence and suspicion are unhealthful, but this
newly moral culture is stuck with its bigoted, interfering gods, plus it's stuck with people who prefer the old bloody gods and use them as their justification for doing all kinds of awful things.”

“Ah,” said Indira. “I am glad our morality has been with us since early times, preserved for us indelibly. I would hate worshipping a god I could not respect. Why do you?”

The FL was regarding Benita with some surprise. “This is a paradox,” she said. “It's not one we're going to solve tonight. We have other problems that are perhaps more solvable. For example, there is the continuing problem of drugs, not only the issue of addictions and consequent criminality, but also the consequent economic and political issues…” She went on to give a description of the war on drugs, focusing on drug trafficking and profiteering and keeping well away from the subject of religion. She concluded: “Legalization would drive prices down, crime would stop, then we could take care of the addicts…”

“And you do not do this because of…politics?”

The SOS said, “The war against drugs is big business. Thousands of people are on the payroll. The people on the payroll don't want the problem solved, though they can't say that out loud or, perhaps, even admit it to themselves. Instead, they continue to take a moral position that requires them to punish people. Punishing people is always considered moral.”

Indira shook her head. “It is like the Pursnyp people on the planet Hiddle. They built an enormous wall to protect them from the marauding tribes of nomadic Flizz. Half the population worked at maintaining and garrisoning the wall. Then a plague came, and the Flizz were almost wiped out. The Pursnyp people sent aid to the Flizz, and when we asked why, they said if the Flizz died out, the wall would not be needed, and there would be no more work for the Pursnyp.”

“Like fox hunting in England,” remarked Chad. “They say they hunt the foxes because they're vermin, but they're careful to preserve plenty of foxes so they never have to stop hunting.”

At the other end of the table, Benita heard Lara ask, “What problems do you have in this country, General Wallace?”

He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, patted his lips. “Well, ma'am, I'd say destruction of the environment is one of our biggest problems…”

While the talk flowed—the drug situation, the environment, various international concerns, everything but religion—Benita ate salad and chicken Kiev and asparagus, chatting from time to time with Mr. Riley, who was obviously keeping a careful eye on everyone present. When the chocolate mousse cake was cleared and coffee served, they listened politely to short speeches of welcome by the First Lady, the SOS, and General Wallace.

Then Indira rose to reply.

“We have been most pleased to join with you in this festive meal, enabling our two peoples to know one another a little better. We know you are recording this meeting, and we intended it so, in order that you may have a record to show your people of the reason for our coming here.”

General Wallace leaned forward. General McVane frowned. Those who were drinking coffee put down their coffee cups.

“You have in recent time stepped upon your moon and begun the building of a space station. We have noticed this. You have in recent time sent small mechanicals to your planets, to learn about them, and you have built listening devices to detect intelligent life on other worlds. We applaud this, and we also applaud your efforts, so diligently though ineffectually carried out, to live peaceably among yourselves and, as we have learned this evening, to improve your perception of morality.

“You have in recent time sent a mechanical device beyond your own system out into the universe. Pistach people have found it, and in response they have sent us, athyci, you would say ethical representatives. Part of our task is to reach out to newly noticed races and assist them in meeting the prerequisites of our galactic principles of coexistence. We—the several races in our Confederation—call these
principles Tassifoduma, what you would call Neighborliness. We have read much of your literature. One of your poets has said that good fences make good neighbors, and this is often true. When a neighbor throws empty cans over his fence, it may mean he is not a good neighbor, or it may mean the fence is not high enough. When small mechanicals are sent outward over the fence, it could be a sign of either. It is then we must do our work quickly before some larger garbage follows to attract the attention of others whom you are not prepared to meet.

“Our Confederation includes intelligent races, some of them predatory, though all agree to respect other members of the Confederation. Since the predators among us could do you great damage, it is to both our advantage if we can get you into the Confederation and subject to Confederation law as quickly as possible.

“So we have come to you as we have come to many worlds where we have learned the best ways to do our work. This is how we intend to proceed:

“Though our actions will not be limited to this country, we will begin our association with this country, as it has a quality other countries call cultural imperialism, which, we have found, means a tasty culture that other peoples readily enjoy, an infective culture, if you will, from which ideas and usages spread quickly. We find your language to be an inclusive one, your religions, for the most part, mutually tolerant, your races working consciously to remove bigotry. These are good signs. Nations that try to limit religion or racial configuration or the language spoken by their people are impossible to work with for they are more concerned with form than reality. We have selected our intermediary with great care. She meets our needs, and she will continue in that role.”

Benita heard this with a shock that went all the way to her feet. Continue?

“Well,” muttered her subconscious. “Did you think they paid you a hundred thou for spending a few days in Washington?”

Indira went on, “For the foreseeable future, this is the last
time we will meet in person with anyone other than our intermediary. We will tell her what is required, and she will transmit this to your government. We learned tonight she has found a living place which is appropriate for us to communicate with her and her with you, without fuss. We request that this place be made ready for her as quickly as possible.

“We request that you do not use our intermediary's personal name when speaking of her to your media. Speak only of
the intermediary.
We ask this because we are athyci and the first rule of an athyco is to harm the least possible. Change always involves some trauma and displacement, but it should always be the least possible. It is not ethical to cause or allow destruction of the tranquil life of an innocent person, this is part of Tassifoduma. Currently there are many such small matters that need adjustment.

“Do you have any questions?”

No one said anything until General McVane blurted in a choked voice, “What gives you the right to come here and tell us what to do?”

The two Indian women swiveled toward him, fixing him with four eyes that, it seemed to Benita, were actually far more numerous than that. “We have the ethical duty, imposed upon us by our ancestors, to help other peoples achieve Neighborliness. Only if that proves impossible or unwelcome will we go away, though by that time, of course, other Confederation races may have learned you are here. We cannot go away, however, until we have made the attempt. Also, we must work not merely with leaders but also with the people, for we came from a whole people, our people, to the whole people of this world.”

“How do we know you can do what you say you can?” McVane demanded, half shouting.

“General McVane!” said the SOS, warningly.

“He may ask the question,” said Lara in a strange, humming tone. “It is always permitted to ask questions, even so rudely as he has done. Since you have been so discourteous as to doubt our word, you will have your answer by tomorrow, General McVane. We will leave you now. We are aware
this meeting is being recorded by various devices, and it is our will that these devices shall on this one occasion be allowed to function, though in future we will prevent any such invasion of our privacy.”

Indira bowed to the table, Lara rose and joined her at the head of the table where they bade farewell to the First Lady and the SOS and then, just as General Wallace was getting to his feet, they disappeared.

A recording made of the entire evening caught much of the conversation and the disappearance of the aliens, at which point the tape showed the other diners sitting stunned, most of them with their mouths open. General McVane ran for the door and began shouting at someone. Mr. Riley spoke to the FL. Men from outside came in. Men from inside went out. When Benita pulled herself together, she saw that the SOS had moved into Indira's chair and was leaning across the table toward her.

“Were you expecting that de facto appointment as ambassador-in-chief?” she asked in a slightly irritated voice.

Benita shook her head, no, muttering, “I didn't even know they expected me to continue doing anything!”

The First Lady spoke to the SOS. “I was watching her face and the announcement took her by surprise as much as it did us.” She took a deep breath and patted Benita's arm, whispering, “You were also surprised when they disappeared?”

Benita gulped. “They didn't disappear when I saw them before. They got in their ship and flew away.”

“They disappeared when they met with the president,” said the SOS, in a less abrasive tone. She and the FL nodded sympathetically. “Why did they choose you?”

Benita was surprised to find the question made her angry. Why shouldn't they have chosen her! “Everyone has asked that. Congressman Alvarez. The general. Even the president asked me that. I suppose they wanted an ordinary person, with ordinary concerns and ordinary problems. I'm a thus-far underpaid minority working mother with an alcoholic husband. They couldn't have picked anyone much more ordinary than that.”

“And two children in college as the result of your hard work,” sniffed the SOS, giving her an admonitory look.

“There is that,” she said, suddenly amused. “You've been checking up on me?”

“Of course the FBI has been investigating you. They even got some hair from your hairbrush back in Albuquerque so they could match it to your blood, just to be sure you're the real you.”

“You went through our house? Bert must have loved that.”

“Your husband has been in jail since early last Sunday morning. We made sure he would learn nothing about the search.”

“Bert's in jail? Again?”

“It seems your husband was in no condition to drive at the time he had an accident.”

“Oh, Lord,” Benita said, ducking her head. How to be terminally embarrassed before the eyes of the world in one easy lesson!

The FL patted her arm, saying seriously, “Are you worried about him? Are you terribly concerned at not being there?”

Benita gritted her teeth. “At one time I would have said I was concerned. I've learned there's nothing I can do for him, so my concern is wasted.”

The FL nodded. “There are all kinds of addictions, and we can't help the addicted if they don't want to be helped, Ms. Alvarez. We need to save our concern for things that need doing.”

“Please call me Benita,” she said. “Or just Bennie.”

“Actually,” murmured the SOS, “it would be better if we called you the intermediary, as the aliens requested. Everyone here is supposed to be trustworthy, but there's always the unlikely event that one of us is a spy.”

Benita flushed. “Call me anything you like. I'm finished being Mrs. Bert Shipton, though. And you're right, I am upset about a lot of things.”

“Well, don't be upset about the bureau going through your house,” said the SOS, soothingly. “It was a very quiet investigation just so we could be sure you were who and what you said you were. Think about it. Aliens arrive and are
announced by someone we don't know. If we had to bet our lives on it, and those of your family, which we may be doing, wouldn't we be remiss not to check?”

She considered it. “I suppose. Seeing how they can take any shape they like.”

“Did you hear what our other alien guest talked about during dinner?”

“Small talk,” Benita murmured. “The general's very interested in environmental issues. He'd recently attended a world conference on global warming. They talked about that. And since he's a rancher, he's interested in restoration of grasslands and riverbanks, the whole ecological bit.”

“Interesting,” said the FL. “Did you overhear Indira asking about Afghanistan and the treatment of women there? In the Pistach culture, she said, someone would intervene to stop men behaving that way, and why hadn't we done so.”