Agent to the Stars | Page 8

Everyone stayed bought; It didn't even make the gossip column of Buzz. But you never know. These things spring leaks.
"No, it's not Tony," Carl said. "Our client is here."
"In the building?"
"No," Carl said, tapping the aquarium that was between us. "Here."
"I'm not following you, Carl," I said. "You're talking about an aquarium."
"Look in the aquarium," Carl said.
For the first time since I entered the room, I took a good look at the aquarium. It was rectangular and neither especially big or small -- about the size of the usual aquarium you'd see in any home. The only thing notable about it was the absence of fish, rocks, bubbling filters or little plastic treasure chests. It was filled entirely with a liquid that was clear but slightly cloudy, as if the aquarium water hadn't been changed in about a month. I stood up, looked over the top of the aquarium, and got a closer look. And smell. I looked over the aquarium at him.
"What is this, tuna Jell-O?"
"Not exactly," Carl said, and then addressed the aquarium. "Joshua, please say hello to Tom."
The stuff in the aquarium vibrated.
"Hi, Tom," the aquarium gunk said. "It's nice to meet you."


Chapter Three
"How do you do that?" I asked Carl.
"Do what?" Carl asked.
"Make it speak," I said. "That's a really neat trick."
"I'm not making it speak, Tom." Carl said.
"No, I know that. I realize it's not a ventriloquist thing," I said. "What I'm asking is, how does sound come out of it at all. Jell-O doesn't strike me as the most efficient medium for sound."
"I'm not really sure about the physics of it, Tom," Carl said. "I'm an agent, not a scientist."
"This is very cool technology," I said, touching the surface of the gunk. It was sticky, and resisted my fingertips a little. "I mean, I'm not going to rush out and buy Jell-O speakers, but it's still very cool. What is it? Something from a science fiction movie? Is our client doing a film about gelatinous aliens or something?"
"Tom," Carl said. "It's not about a movie. That," he pointed to the aquarium, "is our client."
I stopped playing around with the gunk and looked over at Carl. "I'm not following you," I said.
"It's alive, Tom," Carl said.
The stuff wriggled slightly under my fingers. I pulled them back so quickly I felt a seam on my suit jacket rip. An inside seam. Near the shoulder. I had paid $400 for the jacket, and it let me down in the first moment of crisis. I focused all my mental energy on considering that jacket seam, because the only other thing to think about at the moment was that thing in the tank. The jacket seam, that I could handle.
Finally, after a few minutes, the words came, something that, I think, covered the enormity of the situation and what I was experiencing in my head.
"Holy shit," I said.
"That's a new one on me," said the aquarium gunk.
"It's just an expression," Carl said.
"Holy Christ on a pony," I said.
"So's that," Carl noted.
"Ah," said the gunk. "Listen, do you mind if I get out of this box now? I've been it all day. The right angles are killing me."
"Please," Carl said.
Thank you," said the gunk. A tendril formed off the surface of the gunk and arched towards the conference table, touching down close to the center of the table. The tendril wobbled slightly for a second, then thickened tremendously as the gunk transferred itself out of the aquarium through the tendril. When the transfer was over the tendril reabsorbed into the main body, which now sat, globular, on the conference table.
"That's much better," the gunk said.
"Carl," I said. I was keeping my distance from the gunk. "You'd really better catch me up on what's going on here."
Carl had put his feet back on the table. They rested not too far off from where the gunk was piled. That seemed a bad idea to me. "Do you want the long or short version?" He asked.
"Give me the short version for now, if you don't mind," I said.
"Fine," he said. "Tom, have a seat, please. I promise Joshua won't leap on you and suck out your brains."
"I won't," the gunk that was apparently called Joshua agreed. "I'm a good alien, not like those bad aliens that make for such good movies. Please, Tom, sit down."
I didn't know which was more fundamentally disturbing: that Jell-O was talking to me, that it had a sense of humor, or that it had better manners than I did. My body sat down in my seat; the man in my brain readied himself for a sprint to the door.
"Thank you," Carl said. "Here's the short version: About four months ago, the Yherajk, of which my friend Joshua is a member of, contacted me. The Yherajk have been watching