Alien Utopia

By Pat Hartsfield

The silence was unnatural, almost painful. The people of Earth were accustomed to the earsplitting detonations of all space traveling vehicles, whether they were Mars bound colonists or simple, orbital drones. The silver orb before them descended silently as though it was attached to a magician's wire.

The craft did not land on the grass. It hovered smoothly, two feet above the ground, threatening to smoother the lawn of the government building but never crushing a single blade.

Melvin adjusted his tie nervously. His sandpaper dry tongue licked his lips. His breath came in rapid, irregular pants. He tried to force himself to inhale deeply, fearing that he might black out from lack of oxygen.

He went over his speech again and again. Each sentence, each word needed to be perfect as he prepared for his second meeting with the alien.

Prior to the alien's first contact with humanity, the peoples of Earth had already been gazing toward the stars, hoping that their cosmic neighbors might stop by for tea. The leaders of the planet had realized that the highly evolved aliens would not commune with a people bound in perpetual chaos.

Envisioning the moment of first contact, the leaders of Earth had modeled their society after what they knew the morally advanced aliens must value. For decades, they sent messages into space, crying out for the other beings of the galaxy to come and find them worthy.

In hopes of achieving the alien's high standard, they wrote what was titled the "Cannon of the Universe." This set of doctrines for personal and planetary conduct helped guide them in building a better world. With passion and patience, they shaped a society that could only be compared with heaven.

Wealth became measured in the ability to pay for pleasure, since the necessities of life were available to those in even the poorest countries. Most diseases were conquered, and war was a rarity. Ball fields replaced battlefields, and weapons factories built only toys.

When utopia had been achieved, the silver ship appeared. It sent messages in English, Spanish, Hindi, Russian, and Mandarin, requesting contact with our ambassador to other races.

Melvin Amberdink of Roswell, New Mexico was chosen, since he was the Chairman for the United Nations Alien Contact Task Force. He and the people of earth were elated. At last the aliens had come.

At that first contact, Melvin had expressed the passionate desire of the people of earth. "We wish to be accepted by you. What must we do?"

The black, smooth skinned alien seemed to smile from the gaping hole that appeared to serve as a mouth. It declared, "You must cease all use of cold fusion for power and magnetic propulsion for transportation. They create... Difficulties."

Melvin had gaped. "But that would wreck havoc throughout our world. All of our off-world colonies would be in peril. People would die. Cold fusion is necessary. If we are to follow your orders, we need more instructions. Perhaps a new technology to replace what we must relinquish."

The alien replied, "If you wish to prove yourself worthy, you must follow my instructions implicitly. Then I will provide the technology that you will need."

Humanity dutifully obeyed.

Melvin swallowed as he retraced the words he would report to the alien, fearful that the earth might be rejected as unworthy. With the loss of cheap, abundant energy, the once peaceful planet learned to fight again. Weapons covered with dust were cleaned and serviced. Ancient, ethnic enemies set aside uneasy peace agreements. New lines of war were drawn over capped oil fields. Melvin worried the alien would be angry and reject his primitive people.

Melvin walked up the ramp, which extended from a newly formed hole in the wall of the ship. The alien awaited him inside.

Melvin hung his head, unable to face the alien as he related the events of the last four months. In such a short time, they had fallen into a state of brutality.

The alien smiled as he listened. "This is all well," he declared.

"You mean you are not displeased?" Melvin asked, relieved.

The alien answered, "On the contrary, I am very pleased."

Melvin brightened. "Then you can tell us what we need to do to restore peace to Earth."

"I cannot." The alien admitted.

Melvin shook his head. Confusion shined from his face. "Then why did you have us do all these things? Why would an ambassador of peace put us through such anguish?"

The alien seemed to chuckle as he answered. "You seem to be mistaken. I am not an ambassador of peace. I am an arms dealer."