Abduction
I awoke to the sight of two
large, black eyes staring down at me from a long,
grey, mask-like face. The creature spoke: ‘I
am Zogret from the planet Ephiasom.’
‘Bollocks,’ I
retorted.
‘What?’ it said
with a linguistically English-like tone of
surprise.
‘I don’t believe
you,’ I clarified.
‘But I’m four
feet tall, grey, hairless and in a circular room
filled with flashing lights. What more proof do
you need?’
I sat up on the couch.
‘Well, I’d like to see your technology
and your DNA analysed by a panel of investigators
which included senior scientists, psychologists
and members with an expert knowledge of magic and
illusion. I would like to see their methods and
findings verified by fellow professionals and
then published in major scientific periodicals to
encourage further criticism and research.’
There was a stunned pause
before Zogret spoke again. ‘We thought you
were a Whacko - after all, you were meditating in
a crop circle when we beamed you up.’
I recalled my last memory
prior to waking up in this place. ‘I was
walking on a public footpath and stopped in that
circle to eat my sandwiches.....What’s a
‘Whacko’?’
'Whackos are people with a
medieval understanding of science. They easily
form firm beliefs for emotional, rather than
logical, reasons. These beliefs then become so
enmeshed with their own identity and sense of
self that they take on delusional proportions and
become unshakeable in the face of any evidence to
the contrary. We come across a lot from the
literalist or fundamentalist wings of religions.
Also from the New Age Movement and among
supporters of single issue pressure groups.’
He paused and then added as an afterthought,
‘We usually only communicate with Whackos.’
My curiosity was aroused.
‘Let us assume for a moment that you
actually had come from outer space. Why would you
only communicate with what you call ‘Whackos’?’
‘We’re here to
study humans. We try to keep hidden as far as
possible, but these are big spaceships.’ He
gestured around him. ‘Unlike on Star Trek,
we can’t do ‘invisible’, so
inevitably we get seen sometimes. The plan is to
have contact with as many Whackos as possible so
all sightings become discredited.’
‘So, what about me?’
‘Back to your
sandwiches. We’ve been so successful in
being identified by people that no one else takes
seriously, that if you said anything, you’d
be treated as one of them.’
‘So, can I experience
you transporter beam to get back?’
‘No. At the moment
your main hypothesis is that I am an emaciated
dwarf in a rubber suit and all this is some kind
of TV practical joke show.’
‘That’s about
right.’ I followed his line of reasoning.
‘So, you don’t want me to see anything
which might change that view?’
‘Correct. Nice talking
to you. Goodbye.’
I suddenly felt very, very
sleepy.
When I awoke, I was back in
the cornfield with my half-eaten sandwiches by my
side. I checked my watch. Two hours had passed
since I had arrived at that spot. I finished the
sandwiches and continued my walk, wondering when
that TV practical joke show would be broadcast.
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