PROFESSOR POE'S ALMANAC

LOVING THE ALIENS

•Poe has an out of planet experience

POE JNR. took the last sip of his alien Sunshine Mula, sat back in the chair, contemplated the view of the foaming pool, took a deep sigh and made up his mind. One hour later he walked down the long corridor that seemed to be the main highway through this planet and marched into the main office of his abductors. “I will do it,” he said with a sense of new-found optimism. “Splendid Poe,” one cried. “Marvellous news,” said another. The one that had taken him from Earth slightly squinted his eyes, slightly smiled and said nothing.

“This is what I would suggest,” ventured Poe. “Firstly we agree on an amount of instruments to be shipped to Earth. Secondly, I go back with some samples and set up a dealer network. Thirdly, I will find a stocking point in, say, Mexico or some other remote location. Fourthly, find an advertising company with worldwide officers and organise an advertising campaign. You realise these instruments cannot be given away for free, it would only create suspicion. No, they must be sold at a tantalisingly low price, which in conjunction with a devastating global media onslaught would create in even the poorest peoples of earth’s inhabitants a desire second only to the desire programme built in to the musical instrument itself.”

Poe was in fine form, the rhetoric pouring forth like the finest wine from a classic year. The aliens almost quivered and quavered in their French designer suits, their dreams running rampant. This was indeed the adventure of all adventures, total world transhipment within a hundred years. Thirty to forty years of acting as off-world estate agents and then, when the earth was nice and empty move in lock, stock and barrel, and after a few hundred years go looking for another likely planet.

Poe, if he played his Trion cards right, could have whatever he wanted – a nice country of his choice and then finally, when it was his turn to move, the first pick of any new place on a planet that was suitable. If he proved to be treacherous then he would be dumped on the ghastly planet Typlan. Typlan was a semi-alive planet in the third quarter of the Driscol galaxy. New visitors would first be amazed by the beautiful fauna and flora, the scenic views that would encourage a long walk, then a certain tiredness would creep in and visitors would stop and rest under a tree or bush and maybe fall asleep.

When they awoke they would notice that their clothes were semi-dissolved by a strange gluey resin that came from the soil. Then, as they would try to get up they would realise that the soils and grass had somehow connected into their skin tissue and they would be stuck. This awful occurence would last for some 50 years while the planet slowly converted the victim into some hybrid of vegetation and life form, doomed to lie under the sunny skies whilst over many years the planet sustained and converted, sustained and converted. Yes, that would do for Poe, but maybe he would not play the errant molecule, time would tell.

“I would need some good samples and at least £250,000 up-front to start the ball rolling,” cut in Poe, breaking their reveries. “Money is not an issue,” said the tallest alien, composing himself. “We have been watching your planet for many years. We knew what resources you would need in this half of the century and we have invested well. Please follow us.”

Out into the main corridor they climbed aboard a small trailer and hurtled off down the long tunnels. Poe felt good. No longer a passive observer, he felt recharged and committed. As he sat in front, hunched over the dash board, he didn’t notice the aliens’ eyes plowing into the back of his head whilst they drove into the biggest room Poe had ever seen.

Next issue: Homeward bound.