4 (JULY 25, FRI.)
We come from a world where we have known incredible standards of excellence....
—Thornton Wilder
President Allison, the dozen aliens, and their entourage rolled smoothly down to United Nations headquarters in their limousines and were whizzed up to the 38th-floor skyscraper office of Nils Nilsen.
They ignored a ramshackle group of writers who were picketing in UN Plaza. Two of the writers wore beards and all of them looked self-conscious. One of the placards they carried said: SCIENCE FICTION WRITERS' GUILD—ALIENS UNFAIR TO SCIENCE FICTION. Another said: SPACEMEN GO HOME; YOU'RE RUINING OUR RACKET. A handful of subteenagers, clutching copies ofGalaxyandFantasy & Science Fiction, gave them an occasional cheer and occasionally a new arrival sought an autograph. The UN police looked on tolerantly. One of them said: "Poor guys. First sputniks. Then Moon rockets. Now this."
The President, the Secretary-General and the aliens, each of whom had picked up a dispatch case to go with his Earth-style suit, came down the elevator and went to the Security Council chamber.
The Council was called to order. Allison read his speech proposing membership for Monolithia. The chief delegate of the space nation was invited to address the Council. He read his speech, five hundred words of platitudes which didn't deviate by a comma from the advance copy Eurydice Playfair had delivered to the wire service overnight.
The Council voted unanimously, 11 to 0, to recommend that Monolithia be admitted. The Council adjourned and Nils Nilsen called the General Assembly into extraordinary session for that afternoon. The Assembly met at 3 P.M., unanimously voted Monolithia in, then adjourned until its regular September session.
The UN thus became an interplanetary organization, with Monolithia pledged to uphold its peaceful humanitarian aims.
It had been an easy story for the desk to handle and we had it all wrapped up before my relief came in.
Then Riddie called and said the aliens had scheduled their first press conference for 6 P.M. in her suite at the Waldorf. I asked John Hyatt if he wanted me to cover it.
"I don't think you need bother, Sam," he said. "The reinforcements from Chicago arrived this morning. We'll send Red Melville and a couple of his juniors to help Reb. They haven't had a big story since the Chicago fire."
"Okay, John. I'd as soon watch it on television."
As I was driving home from the end of the bus line I heard on the car radio that Congress had voted to give the Monolithians the freedom of the United States. The Senate, reassured by the aliens' acceptance of the principles of the UN, had originated the bill and the House immediately shouted it through. The President signed it on his return from New York, saying it gave him great pleasure inasmuch as it granted the visitors from space all the rights and privileges of U.S. citizenship.
Mae fixed us an armchair buffet and we ate while we watched the press conference on TV.
There was the usual milling around at the start. I saw Reb Sylvester, putting in overtime, and Red Melville and a few other reporters I recognized from the wire services and papers. Eurydice Playfair and two of the aliens sat at a table on which was a cluster of microphones. An announcer for the television network was describing what we were seeing and giving us background information we already knew.
"I see your friend Eurydice is doing all right for herself," Mae said, full of those overtones a wife has for any female in the office who is under sixty.
"Mn," I said. "She quit us. Shh."
The television announcer made some introductory remarks, then Riddie made some and introduced one of the aliens (who were wearing their Young Men's suits) as Mr. Reev. She spelled the name.
"Are there any questions?" she asked, and there was a roar of laughter as dozens of hands shot up.
Reev, smiling, indicated the AP man, who asked where exactly Monolithia was.
Reev began an involved answer which Riddie interrupted, saying a fact sheet containing technical data would be distributed after the press conference.
The UPI man asked what Reev's exact title was.
"Permanent representative to the United Nations from Monolithia," he replied.
WW's Reb Sylvester, apparently referring to Stew Macon's piece on the definition of monolithic, noted that this referred to any massive homogeneous whole, such as a state or an organization. "Is there any significance to this term," he asked, "which as you know has been applied in the past to the government of the Soviet Union?"
"We have no connection with the Soviet Union," Reev said, "except those we have established with it and more than eighty other countries through the United Nations." He added with a smile: "As your definitions note, we are homogenized, like your milk."
Amid laughter, Reb asked: "Would you describe your government as a democratic one?"
"Utterly," Reev said. There was no trace of accent in his speech. The clicking Ian McEachern had noticed in the voice of the Monolithian he had spoken to on the phone at Burning Tree was entirely absent, as if they had perfected their study of English.
A Canadian Press man noted that "reeve" is a term his country uses for the president of a village or town council, and asked if there was any significance in the fact that Reev's name was almost identical. Reev looked baffled, but Riddie said it was merely coincidence. The CP man then asked the name of the other Monolithian.
"Jain," he said, spelling it. He added with a smile: "No significance; it's just a name."
A man from Reuters asked if the Monolithians were aware that President Allison had signed a bill making them honorary citizens of the United States.
"We are grateful for that," Reev said. "But I think you will find that the new law bestows full, not honorary, citizenship."
"Are you prepared to live up to the laws of the United States?" an unidentified reporter asked.
"Fully," Reev replied. "And to those of the United Nations. Not only to the letter but to the spirit of the law."
"Do you believe those laws to be fair?"
"The Constitution of the United States and the Charter of the United Nations appear to be the most perfect examples of humanitarian principles we have encountered anywhere in our travels," Reev said. Jain nodded agreement.
"How many of you are there?" an NBC man asked.
"Twelve of us here in New York," Reev said. "An equal number at Burning Tree. Then, of course, there are hundreds of us in each of the mother ships."
"The mother ships? What are they?"
"The craft which actually made the interstellar journey. They are moored, as some of your press accounts have indicated, outside your atmosphere."
"How far out?"
"As far out as the Moon, but exactly opposite it, on the other side of the Earth."
"Is that why we had no warning of your approach from the observatory on the Moon?"
"Probably. That's the way we planned it."
"Are those ships armed?"
"All our craft are armed, but only with defensive weapons. We travel only in peace and molest only those who would molest us."
There was a stir among the reporters, and a man fromMissiles and Rockets Magazineasked for a description of the weapons.
"I am afraid that is what you would term classified information. Our representatives and those of your Defense Department and the United Nations Secretariat have scheduled a meeting to discuss possible exchange of information touching on these weapons—which I emphasize are strictly defensive in nature."
"Are you armed personally?" the AP man asked.
"We do not carry concealed weapons, if that's what you mean," Reev said. "But we are capable of defending ourselves against any attack on ourselves or our friends. I don't wish to sound ungrateful, but the elaborate security guard provided for us and your President when he traveled with us was quite superfluous."
"I don't suppose," one of the television men said, "you'd be willing to give us a demonstration of your defense weapon? It'd make quite a graphic picture for the television audience."
"We'd be glad to," Reev said, "if you could suggest a way."
"Well," the TV man said, looking around the room, "I could throw one of these big, glass Waldorf ashtrays at you...."
"Now wait a minute," one of the other reporters said. "We don't want glass shrapnel flying around the room."
"No one will be hurt," Reev said. "You will see. I suggest you focus one of your cameras here." He indicated a spot about two feet in front of his face.
"Okay," the TV man said. He picked up the ashtray, which was a good eight inches in diameter, and hefted it.
"Empty the cigarette butts first, at least," someone said.
The TV man asked Reev: "Ready?"
"Ready."
The TV man let fly. The heavy ashtray sailed directly at Reev's face. About a foot from it, the ashtray appeared to hit, or sink into, an invisible shield. It did not shatter, but seemed to fuse, increasing its diameter but decreasing its thickness. It became the size of a pizza platter, but exceedingly thin. It continued to grow in diameter, becoming fainter and fainter. Then it disappeared completely.
When the hubbub of amazed comment had subsided Reev smiled and said: "Nobody hurt, I trust?"
One of the reporters in the first row said, "No, but I'd swear it's quite a bit hotter up here."
"True. That usually happens when matter is changed into energy."
"Can you be more explicit?"
"Sorry, no."
"Would you have the same protection against a bullet?"
"Entirely the same."
"How much warning do you need to put it into effect?"
"None. It takes effect at the first sight of danger."
"Would it work against a bomb?"
"Yes."
"Ahydrogenbomb?"
"Yes."
"Then you're invulnerable."
"Completely."
"Well," a reporter said, "I'm awfully glad you're on our side."
A ripple of nervous laughter went through the crowded room.