Agent to the Stars | Page 9

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
us here on Earth for a while, and they decided recently that after several years of
observation, it was time to make themselves known to humanity. But they have
concerns."
"We look like snot," Joshua said. "And we smell like dead fish."
Carl nodded in Joshua's direction. "The Yherajk are worried that their physical
appearance will present problems."
"We have seen The Blob, and it is us," Joshua intoned.
Another nod from Carl. "The Yherajk have decided that before they can appear to
humanity, some arrangements have to be made -- a way has to be made for them not to
appear so ugly from the outset."
"We need an agent to get us the role of the friendly aliens," Joshua said.
"That's the short version," Carl said.
I sat there for a second, trying to process the information. "Can I ask a question?" I said.
"Shoot," said Joshua.
I looked at Joshua and for a moment I was frozen. I didn't know what part of it to address.
It all looked the same. I dealt with it by looking straight at its center. "Dumb question
first: Why didn't you just drop on the lawn of the White House? I mean, in the movies,
that's pretty much how it was done."
"We thought about it," Joshua said. "Then we caught the Presidential debates. The people
you folks elect are sort of scary. And you Americans are the folks that do it the best on
this entire planet. Besides, your president only speaks for Americans. American movies
speak for your world. Who hasn't seen Wizard of Oz? Or Jaws? Or Star Wars? We've
seen them, and we're not even from this planet." Joshua sprouted a tendril and tapped the
table. "If you want to introduce yourself to the planet, this is the place to start."
"Okay," I said. I looked over at Carl. "The....Earjack --"
"Yherajk," Carl said, pronouncing it yee-heer-aahg-k.

"It's not our real name," Joshua said, "but you couldn't pronounce what we're actually
called."
"Why not?" I asked.
"Well, for one thing, it's a smell," Joshua said. "Would you like to smell it?"
I glanced at Carl. He shrugged. "Sure," I said.
The room filled with a stench that resembled the offspring of a rotted sneaker and
Velveeta. I gagged involuntarily.
"God, that's horrible," I said, and immediately regretted it. "I'm very sorry," I said. "That
was probably the first ever insult to an extraterrestrial. I apologize."
"No offense taken," Joshua said, mildly. "You should come to a Yherajk get-together. It's
like a convention of farts."
"I believe there was a question at the beginning of all this," Carl said.
"Right," I said, and looked back to Carl. "How many people know about the Yherajk?"
"Including you and me?" Carl said.
"Yes," I said.
"Two," Carl said. "Well, and a couple thousand Yherajk orbiting the planet. But among
humans, it's just you and me."
"Wow," I said.
"It's not that hard to believe," Joshua said. "If you run out of here and say that you've just
met an alien that looks like gelatin and smells like a cat in heat, who's going to believe
you? All the really believable aliens have spines."
I ignored this. "Carl, why me?"
Carl tilted his head at me, and regarded me like a favored child. Which, perhaps, I was.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"I mean, I'm flattered that you picked me to help you to do...." I waved my hands around,
"whatever it is that we're going to be doing here. But I don't know why you picked me."
"Well, it's like I said," Carl said. "I need someone who's smart and that I can