Edgley looked up, unable to believe his eyes. There, on the top of the stage, was his
spaceship. The freaking crew of Pheely
geeks and rejects were being applauded by the crowd and he was standing
half-naked up to his ass in mud. He
watched as half the crew began removing their space suits - expensive space
suits mind you, and just dropping the stuff willy-nilly all over the stage.
He was half a mile away and he couldn't see how he was going to get up
there, but damn it, he was going to try.
If he couldn't get out of STC with a parachute, he was sure going to
maximize his potential future income by getting a piece of this action.
Reed Inkelis had missed his opportunity. His target, Gary Duckbill, was supposed to
make a surprise entrance and join the band "What?!" with his
saxophone around the middle of their set.
Duckbill wouldn’t likely make an enterance now. Inkelis didn't care that
much because he had a really good excuse and he wasn't hurting for the cash.
As he stood there, holding Daffi's hand and staring up at the
astronauts, he felt at peace. This would
be a moment he intended to remember for the rest of his life. He could tell his grand kids about it -- next
week, when he went to visit them.
He could see Portia Summers up on that giant holo-projection and he
laughed -- he could have said "yes" to her when they were in
"Benny's Jets". He could have
been up on that stage. He could have
been big as life. He smiled. They deserved the applause. So he started to clap his hands too.
Jules beeped and Portia blinked and focused on her SPECTACL
field. Jules smiled, winked and said
"Klaatu barada nikto, baby."
Portia didn't understand and was about to ask him what he meant when
Mickey interrupted.
"Excuse me, everyone," said a ten-story high Mickey at 97
decibels. "I want to tell you about
our trip."
The crowd became quiet very quickly.
Everybody knew that the Waste-REL had disappeared. They knew they were in for an “X-Files”
revelation if they ever were going to get one.
"Hi," said Mickey.
"Um… We met an alien."
The crowd went wild with applause and whistling.
"Wait, wait," said Mickey.
"It's not that good really."
Everyone became quiet again.
"The alien gave us a gift."
There were a lot of ooos and aahs.
"It's a golden robe," said Mickey. "They gave it to Lyle, here."
A lot of people went "aaaw", as if they were looking at a
puppy. Lyle removed his flight vest and
the golden robe was revealed. It had
been bunched up around his waist and it was a relief for him to let it flow
down to his feet. As he scratched his
tummy, the robe glowed in the sun and sparkles shimmered across the field of
uplifted faces.
"Lyle has a message for you from the aliens," said Mickey.
Mickey handed Lyle the microphone.
Lyle looked at it as if it was going to bite him. Then he got a funny feeling and the golden
robe started to glow.
The feed from the trideo cameras that were capturing the show for the
10 story high projection was picked up by every news organization on the planet
and streamed live. From this moment on,
Lyle's face was being seen by more people at one time than anyone in the
history of mankind. It is an
exceptionally good thing that no one told him.
Lyle held onto the microphone with both hands and trembled. He spoke very quietly, but it came out over
the speakers at 90 dB. "I have just
come from a conference with the envoy of the advanced intelligent species of
the nearby galaxies."
The crowd cheered again.
"Well, with his computer," said Lyle. "We killed the alien - by
accident."
The crowd murmured.
"But the computer gave us this robe, which is just sort of a big
intergalactic SPECTACL, and through me, the Aliens can deliver a message to
you. Here is their message:"
"’Greetings human beings of the planet Earth.
To the young, we send congratulations -- you are the first generation in
a hundred Earth years that does not leave a trail of garbage everywhere you
go.’"
For some unknowable reason a number of men in the crowd began to
holler "woo".
Lyle continued: “’
To those of you who have slavishly run
after the Boomers, eating what falls from the Boomers' table: it comes down to
you to clean up the mess. You must discard the ways of the Boomer -- they
sacrifice their children's future on the alter of their convenience: a crime so
terrible the name Boomer has already become vulgar and profane throughout the
known galaxies.’”
A look of shock crossed Lyle’s
features, and then he spoke: “’The sentence is passed: the Boomers must die.’”
The crowd started to boo, as if Lyle
could control what he was saying and turn it to their liking. Lyle turned to Mickey and Donny, placing his
hand over the microphone.
“They’re going to kill me,” Lyle
cringed. “I can’t tell them what the
Aliens keep telling me to say. They’ll
go nuts!”
“It’s the aliens,” said Donny. “What choice do you have?”
"Aagh," lamented Lyle.
Some older folks in the crowd were yelling, saying that they were not
like the other Boomers, "I'm a
vegetarian!" yelled one woman.
"I'm different!"
"Yeah, you're different," said some nearby comedian.
"'That's not enough,'" said Lyle.
"Shut your hole, you geek!" yelled the vegetarian drummer
for the band "What?!" standing well back, behind the Waste-REL crew.
“Listen!” yelled Lyle. “This is what the aliens are making me tell
you.” Lyle paused, gaining confidence as
he spoke the alien’s words. “'Because
the Earth is in such jeopardy, the balance of power must change in your
species. In order to save your planet, all the Boomers are hereby found guilty
and condemned to immediate death.’”
Millions of people watching around the globe all gasped in unison.
Down below Lyle, some screamed.
"'We will continue to speak to your species through Googie, our
brother among you. Peace.'"
At this Lyle stepped back, blinked a few times and looked around, not
as much dazed as exhausted. The people
in the crowd below were looking up at Lyle in a panic.
"Kill him," yelled one man close to the front, who up until
then had been looking up at the projection of a hair on Lyle's giant chin. Many others repeated the sentiment. "Stop him! We have to stop him!"
"No wait!" said Lyle. "It doesn't have to be that
way."
The crowd started to attack the doorways at the foot of the
building. "Get out of the way or
we'll kill you!" said one Boomer to the thirty-something slave security
guards as he pushed past them. They
didn't offer any resistance.
"Wait," said Lyle to the panicked crowd. "I've got to tell you before it
comes! Don't run, you'll get hurt. Stop!"
The crowd all crushed into each other, trying to either get away or
get into the building. Tents were trampled.
Inkelis' SPECTACL made a noise.
It wasn't just any noise. It was
the combination of tones his SPECTACL made when a very important person called
him.
Before Inkelis could place it on his head, his girlfriend, (who was
not distraught or running about with the crowd because she was not at risk),
nonchalantly glanced at the SPECTACL projection. Then she recognized the person calling
Inkelis.
"Holy shee," said Daffi, agog. "That's…"
But Inkelis raised an open palm to silence her as he grabbed his
SPECTACL from his backpack.
"Yes, sir," he shouted, donning the SPECTACL. "I'm sorry, it's a little loud
here!"
— — —
Mickey grabbed Lyle by the shoulder and pulled him away from the lip
of the stage. "You okay? You know
what you said?"
"Yeah," said Lyle.
"It felt like it was coming out of my own head, but it couldn't
have. I couldn't have said that. Could I?"
"Of course not, Googie," said Mickey, wrapping his arm
around Lyle's shoulders. "It's
aliens; but it's okay, they're crunchy."
"Yeah," nodded Lyle.
The Presidents of the United States (age 72), Russia (age 64) and the
Asian Union (age 71) and the Prime Ministers of Canada (age 79), the European
Union (age 80) and Greater Australia (age 76) all turned to their SPECTACLs,
blinked their respective security advisors usernames and messaged the same
text: "Kill him."
Inkelis was talking to someone even more powerful.
"I understand, sir," said Inkelis. "I've got it covered."
Surprisingly, Inkelis was the only assassin under government contract attending
the GAG Fest. With the crowd running
about going nuts, he felt he could comfortably expose his gun without too much
risk of trouble. He pulled the rifle off
the tripod and raised it to his shoulder.
His SPECTACL began beeping frantically.
"Take a message," he told the SPECTACL. "I know what they want."
"Hey, wait," said Daffi.
"You can't kill Mickey!"
Inkelis stabbed Daffi in the shoulder with his handy pocket stiletto
and she fell back into the tent. This
was allowed because Inkelis had a "marriage license to kill".
Inkelis positioned his aim, but people were standing in front of Lyle,
obscuring Inkelis' view. He'd get one
shot from this position and then they'd all drop to the floor and be out of his
sights. He had to make this bullet count.
On the stage they could hear the crowd climbing the stairs below. Above their heads, dark clouds gathered.
"They're coming, Mickey," said Lyle, wringing his
hands. "They're gonna kill me
before… Oh no, I can feel it!" Lyle grabbed the microphone back from Mickey
and walked to the lip of the stage.
Next: The Shot
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