And fifteen minutes ago, you knew that people were alone on this planet. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat. Fifteen hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals and you know it. They think they have a good bead on things. Humans, for the most part, don't have a clue. And most of them are decent enough, they're just trying to make a living. At any given time there are around fifteen hundred aliens on the planet, most of them right here in Manhattan. Um, look, tell your boy Zed I had an absolutely wonderful time, and thank you for everything, but.why don't you show me the door?Īll right, kid, here's the deal. Right, you should make another appointment. 'Bout six months ago, it's company policy. Uh, look, I'm sorry, not to change the subject or anything, but when was the last time you had a CAT scan? Why else would we hold it in Queens? More non-humans arrive every year and they live among us in secret. Uh-huh, so these are real flying saucers, and the World's Fair was just a cover-up for their landing. We agreed, and we concealed all the evidence of their landing. Wanted to the use the earth as an apolitical zone for . They were a group of intergalactic refugees. Aww, you brought that tall man some flowers. There were nine of us the first night: seven agents, one astronomer, and one dumb kid who got lost on the wrong back road. Everybody thought the agency was a joke, except the aliens who made contact March 2, 1961, outside New York. when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.īack in the mid-1950s the government started a little, underfunded agency with the simple and laughable purpose of establishing contact with a race not of this planet. . The only thing that pulls its weight around here is my goddamn truck! Don't you take that away! I'm eating that, dammit! It is poison, isn't it? I swear to God, I would not be surprised if it was, the way you skulk around here like a dog been hit too much, or ain't been hit enough. I go out, I work my butt off to make a living, all I want is to come home to a nice clean house, with a nice fat steak on the table, but instead, I get this. And to be honest, I'd appreciate it if you eased up off my back about it. If you ask me, I'd say she's up to something. She's about eight years old, those books are WAY too advanced for her. I'm thinking, y'know, eight-year-old white girl, middle of the ghetto, bunch of monsters, this time of night with quantum physics books? She about to start some sh*t, Zed. I mean, how would I feel if somebody come runnin' in the gym and bust me in my ass while I'm on the treadmill? Then I saw this snarling beast guy, and I noticed he had a tissue in his hand, and I'm realizing, y'know, he's not snarling, he's sneezing. Well, first I was gonna pop this guy hanging from the street light, and I realized, y'know, he's just working out. Well, she was the only one that actually seemed dangerous at the time, sir. May I ask why you felt little Tiffany deserved to die?
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