copyright © 2003 by Robert L. Blau

A three-day cruise, a three-day cruise

    I hope I will be excused for what may appear to be petulance, but I am sure I will have your understanding when you have heard of my circumstances.  I was one of some seven people who engaged a light tourist vessel for what was supposed to be a fun-filled escape from our busy workaday lives.  The excursion, which was scheduled to last three days, was to be a leisurely tour of the fun spots between earth and the asteroid belt.  I now believe that I should have been suspicious when our pilot and tour leader introduced himself as "Doof."
    I am not sure when the cruise began to go wrong, but in retrospect, I believe it was when Doof pulled out a large map, which he unfolded with great difficulty and completely failed to read.  While he was doing this, the craft itself was utterly unattended and sailed along, as it seemed, according to its own whim.
    At length, Doof asked if anyone knew how to read a map.  This request was followed by a major perturbation among us passengers.  We were on the point of strangling Mr. Doof and shoving him out the airlock when he suddenly exclaimed, "Land ho!"  This mollified all of us, and we permitted our directionally challenged guide to land the craft.
    Exactly where we were, no one knew.  In fact, approximately where we were, no one knew.  But we decided to make the best of it.  Everyone disembarked to assess the lay of the land, which seemed friendly, inviting, and even picturesque.  At least, we had found a planet whose atmosphere was not loaded with methane or some other inhospitable gas.  However, as we did not find any sign of intelligent life, or even a phone booth from which to make a call, we decided that we had better move on.
    Unfortunately, our little ship would not start up.  "Oh, my!" said Doof. "It appears that I have left the headlights on, and now the battery has been drained."  As there was no space station in sight, we seemed to be in a bit of a pickle, but Doof had an idea.
    "If someone will get out and push, I think I can get this baby cranked up," he said.
    I, to my misfortune and subsequent grief, was chosen to push.  I did so, and sure enough, our small craft started up.  Then it took off.
    "Wait!  Come back!" I cried.
    The response from the ship was muffled, but I think it was this:  "I can't!  I don't know how it works!"

I am captured!

    So there I was, marooned on an unknown planet.  I paused for a moment to assess my options.  I found that I didn't have any.  First, I considered waiting for the cruise ship to return, but reflection told me that was vain.  So I decided to set out looking, as before, for intelligent life or a phone booth.  After all, we had not made an exhaustive search of the planet.  After walking without luck for some hours, I became weary and settled down in some soft grass for a nap.
    I did not enjoy a restful sleep.  I had nightmares about flying on a small space vessel with a moron for a pilot.  Then I had nightmares about insects crawling all over my body and tying me up with ... insect stuff.
    When I awoke, I discovered that I was indeed bound like the proverbial turkey.  Watching me from a distance of several feet were, not insects, but a troop of little men, each about three feet tall with bald heads, weak chins, and bug eyes.  Probably, it was the bug eyes that put the insect element into my nightmare.  I did discover that my bonds were not excessively strong, and that, if I flexed a muscle just so, I could pop a thread here and there.  However, I decided it would be wisest not to burst my bonds completely without knowing what might await me if I did.
    Seeing that my eyes had opened, one of the number of little men addressed me.
    "I say," said he, "have you had a good nap, eh?"
    "Not nearly so good as if you hadn't tied me up like a Christmas goose," I replied. "May I ask you why you treat guests this way, and who, by the way, you are?"
    "I'll be asking the questions around here!" harrumphed the little man, pulling himself up to his full three feet, one inch. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?  I must say in advance that I think you are an evil foreigner who has come to bop us, for I have never seen anything quite as ugly as you.  And besides that, I don't know you."
    "Evil, I am not," I replied, "though foreign I may be to you, and perhaps ugly as well.  My name is Lemuel, and I come from a different world.  Through no fault of my own, I have been marooned on your planet, and all I want is to get back to my own, which is called 'earth.'  Can you help me do that?"
    "Poppycock!" scoffed the little man. "Another planet, indeed!"
    "Well, how else would you explain that I am about twice as big as you and have no apparent genetic connection to you?" I asked.
    "I'll ask the questions around here!" repeated my interrogator.
    "But if I may ask just one," I ventured, "why were you just sitting around waiting for me to wake up?"
    "Oh," said the little man with a touch of embarrassment. "We have to take you to our base for interrogation, and you were, uh, a bit too heavy to carry.  You should cut down on the carbs and the fats, you know!  So, would you mind just standing up and coming along with us quietly?"

The democratic institutions of Bong

    The trip to the base was long and rather tedious.  There was little to do but talk, and my interlocutor began to moderate his attitude toward me.  He told me that his name was Bem, and that the name of his country was Bong.  Bem was the commander of a crack force of 100 troops who were charged with suppressing "the evil activities of evil persons."  I asked if he could tell me more about these evil personages and their activities.
    "You see," said Bem, "Bong is a free and democratic nation.  Everyone else hates us for that."
    "That's terrible!" I commiserated.
    "You bet!" he said. "They're all out to get us, so we have to kill them.  Unless they do things our way."
    "And what way is that?" I asked.
    "You haven't been listening!" chided Bem. "Free and democratic!  Democracy or death!  That's the choice we give our evil enemies."
    "Don't you have any friends?" I asked with incredulity.
    "Oh, yes.  A few," admitted Bem.
    "And these are all democracies?" I asked.
    "Yes.  Um, no.  Uh, not exactly," Bem bumbled. "Since they're friends, they get a little leeway on the democracy bit."
    "Ah, I see," I said. "So, can you tell me a little about your government.  For instance, how do you select your leader?"
    "He is elected by the people!" said Bem proudly.
    "How does that work?" I asked.
    "Every four years, the Wise Ones choose two candidates for Glorious Leader," said Bem.
    "And the Wise Ones are the people?" I asked.
    "Uh, no," said Bem. "The Wise Ones are the people who know what is best."
    "How do they know?" I asked. "How does one become a Wise One?"
    "They are the ones who are wise enough to accumulate wealth," said Bem. "They know what is best."
    "But, in a democracy, shouldn't all of the people decide?" I objected.
    "Of course not!" snapped Bem. "The people are not ... qualified to choose from so many possibilities."
    "But they vote on the two?"
    "Of course," said Bem. "It's a democracy."
    "And the one who gets the most votes wins, then?"
    "Usually," said Bem.
    "Usually?" I asked with perhaps a touch of disbelief.
    "Oh, yes," said Bem. "The people's choice is reviewed by the Council of the Wise.  If the people have chosen the correct candidate, the choice stands.  Otherwise, the candidate with fewer votes wins.  This time, for instance, the people did not choose the best candidate, so the Council of the Wise had to do it for them."
    "I don't understand," I said. "Who are the Council of the Wise?"
    "They are the wisest people in the land," said Bem. "They are appointed by the Wise Ones to ensure that the people don't do anything stupid."
    "Even with only two pre-approved candidates?" I sniveled.
    Bem looked at me oddly.  "You really don't understand democracy, Lemuel," he said.

    "So, tell me about all the freedoms you enjoy," I ventured, trying a different path.
    "We have freedom of speech, religion, press, and assembly," said Bem. "We have freedom from unreasonable search and seizure.  We can travel whenever and wherever we want."
    "That sounds great, Bem," I said.
    "Of course, that only applies to the good people," he added.
    "Uh, the good people?" I asked. "And who are those?"
    "Why, most of us, of course," Bem assured me. "Those are the people who don't say anything against the government, don't publish treasonous articles, follow the correct religion, and don't go to subversive meetings."
    "Ah, I see," I said.

I am interrogated

    At last, we reached Bem's camp.  It was a military camp surrounded by barbed wire and attack animals the size of chihuahuas.
    "You must watch your step here!" cautioned Bem. "Don't make us sic our googoos on you!  Down, Killer!  That's a good boy."
    We passed row upon row of neat barracks until our destination came into sight.  It was a grim, squat building with no windows.  While it was larger than the other buildings on the base, I could see that I would have a great deal of difficulty squeezing through the door.  I was correct.
    "It is time for your interrogation," said Bem ominously.
    "I thought you had already interrogated me," I objected. "You know, name, planet of origin, reason for marooning."
    "But without the implements of persuasion," said Bem, "we cannot be sure that you are telling us the truth."
    "And what would those 'implements of persuasion' be?" I inquired.
    "Hot brands applied to sensitive areas," said Bem. "Sharp implements under the fingernails.  Hanging upside down from the ceiling..."
    "You're going to torture me?" I asked incredulously.
    "No," said Bem. "Not torture.  Only evil people like our enemies torture people.  We do not torture.  We only persuade."  Then, to his assistants, "Hot brands, please!"
    "The heck you say!" said I.
    "Ok," continued Bem, as his persuaders approached with glowing sticks of wood, "where are you from, and what is your mission?"
    I blew out the brands.  "I'm from earth, and I got stuck here by an incompetent bozo.  And if I ever get my hands on him, I might just send him here."
    "Bamboo slivers!" ordered Bem. "Who do you work for?"
    I let them try, but they didn't have any that were long enough to reach the flesh under my nails.
    "I work for the Department of Weights and Measures," I said.
    "Hang him by his heels!" barked Bem.  After looking me up and down, however, and likewise surveying his men, he sighed and gave up.  "Ok," he said. "I guess that about does it."

Glorious Leader

    The next morning, I was surprised to discover that Glorious Leader wanted to speak to me.
    "I told him that, after the Ordeal of Squeezing through the Doorway, you could not possibly have held any useful information back," said Bem. "I also told him about your size and strength.  He thinks you might be, uh, useful."
    Visiting Glorious Leader meant another long walk.  I was still bound, but I had flexed and popped until the bonds were not vexing.  The capital was visible from a long way off.  It, too, was surrounded by barbed wire and yelping googoos.  Glorious Leader's palace was similarly secured.  I found that I could enter the palace door simply by kneeling, scrunching in my shoulders a little, and wriggling.
    Glorious Leader himself was indistinguishable from his subjects except in two respects.  First, his thin mouth seemed frozen in a perpetual smirk.  Second, he was carrying the biggest mallet I had ever seen.
    "So, Mr. Lemuel," smirked Glorious Leader affably, "Bem here tells me that you have dropped in on us from another planet."
    "Yes, sir," I said. "Can you help me get back to earth?"
    "I'll ask the questions," said Glorious Leader in a manner to which I was becoming accustomed. "And I don't stand on ceremony.  You can call me 'Glorious Leader.'  I was just wondering if you could swing one of these."  He hefted the giant mallet.
    "Well, I suppose so, ... Glorious Leader," I confessed.
    "I might be able to use your help against our enemies," said Glorious Leader.
    "Please explain, Glorious Leader," I said, trying to sound as if I were begging a favor, rather than asking a question.
    "You see," said Glorious Leader, "our enemies are attempting to develop dangerous and evil weapons to use against us."
    "What kind of dangerous and evil weapons, Glorious Leader?" I asked.  Inserting the "Glorious Leader" in each question seemed to help.
    "Awful weapons!" Glorious Leader boomed. "Weapons with long handles and blunt, cylindrical heads!"
    "Um, like that mallet you're holding?" I asked. "Glorious Leader?"
    "Of course not!" he fulminated. "Their weapons are nothing like this one!  Theirs are evil devices to be used against good people!  This, which we call the Big Bopper, is an agent of Good to be used only against evil people!  There is no comparison!"
    "I see," I said diplomatically.
    "Even now," said Glorious Leader, "I am preparing to smite an evil enemy."
    "What has this enemy done, Glorious Leader?"
    "He is planning to use an evil, long-handled, blunt-headed weapon against our people!" stormed Glorious Leader righteously.
    "And you have seen this weapon, Glorious Leader?"
    "I haven't exactly seen it," said Glorious Leader. "But I know he has it!"
    "Pictures?  Reports?" I asked encouragingly.
    "My wife's third cousin heard a rumor!" snapped Glorious Leader. "Besides, I have the most damning evidence possible!"
    "And that is ...., Glorious Leader?"
    "He denies having the weapon!  Since he's a liar, that proves it!"
    "Ah."
    "Not only that," continued Glorious Leader, "but we have looked all over the place for it and haven't found a trace!  That proves that he's hiding it!"
    Before I could formulate a response that might have fetched me a load of trouble, one of Glorious Leader's lackeys rushed in.  The lackey was flushed, anxious, and more bug-eyed than usual.
    "Glorious Leader!  Glorious Leader!" he panted.
    "Well?" frowned Glorious Leader disapprovingly. "What is so important that you had to interrupt this interview?"
    "The evil enemy!" gasped the lackey. "The one with the bopper!  He's outside waving it around again!"
    "Oh, that," said Glorious Leader. "It's ok.  Just leave it to me."
    The lackey departed.
    "So, he does have a bopper," I ventured.
    "What?" asked Glorious Leader. "Oh, no.  This is a different evil enemy."
    "You mean one that actually has a bopper, rather than one you just think has one because he says he doesn't, and you can't find it?"
    "You have to treat armed enemies a little differently," said Glorious Leader. "They might be able to fight back.  A person could get hurt.  But back to my latest target.  This guy is almost as bad as Droog."
    "And who, may I ask, is Droog?" I inquired.
    "Droog was a heinous despot!" said Glorious Leader. "It took the world years to defeat him.  He came to power in a contested election in which he did not win a majority of the votes.  He used to bop people without provocation.  He kept his own people under strict surveillance and denied them the most basic freedoms."
    "Oh, like you."  I'm sorry.  It just slipped out.
    There was a moment of deepest silence, followed by an air-draining gasp from the throats of all there assembled.
    That was when I burst my bonds and ran for it, punting googoos as I went.  
    So, as before, I implore your indulgence and beg you to kindly GET ME OFF THIS ROCK!!!