Watching and waiting, the Malthusian visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Moon-people have no problem with telepathy. They read minds with ease. The problem is believing it.
Commander Kern walked into the quarterdeck lunch room. Spotting Lt. Paula Kowalski, he joined her in line. Her shoulders dropped a centimeter and she closed her mouth. Tight.
“What’s wrong, Paula?”
“Who said anything’s wrong?”
Someone was a little testy.
Kern zeroed in. “I’m using telepathy.”
“Then you better get your wires checked. Because nothing’s wrong with me.” Paula took a bowl of pureed mushroom soup from the carousel, grabbed an orange and banana and walking off, sat with three other women.
Kern thought about joining them. But he didn’t like the vibe. Again, telepathy.
“Listen, Rollhagen. I need help.” Kern sat with the captain, who ate from a big bowl of raw broccoli, his entire lunch. Even for a vegetarian he was a freak.
“Let me guess,” said Captain Rollhagen. “The navigational receiver is broken again.”
A good guess, but wrong. “No, it’s about women.”
Rollhagen nodded. “I knew that.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“I was being polite. How can I help you?”
Kenneth Kern attempted to connect with the captain. Nothing. Telepathy is especially difficult with some people. Like a TV screen turned off. Adjusting antennas won’t help.
“You know Ms. Kowalski?” said Kern. “The librarian?” The captain did. “Well, my attempts at friendship, purely professional mind you, have been met with indifference.”
“Indifference?”
“Hostility.”
“Ah! Now we’re getting somewhere. Allow me to tune in.” Crunching a floret, the captain narrowed his eyes. Although Lt. Kowalski sat half-way across the room, he was confident in his abilities. He was the captain, after all.
“I’ve got it,” he said, turning back to Kern. “You’ve done something to upset her.”
“For Pete’s sake, Darryl. I could have told you that.”
“And you did.” He tapped the side of his forehead. His own mental receiver worked quite well.
Kern had enough of this. He stood and walked over to Kowalski, who carried empty plates to the counter. She was a big girl, and she put her back to him. When a big girl puts her back to you, you really know it.
“Ms. Kowalski.”
No answer.
“Paula, if I could have a moment…”
“You had a moment,” the lieutenant said. “At last week’s party. You said you would call me, and never did.”
“Well, I’m calling you now.”
“And there’s another thing. I don’t think I can be friends with a man like you.”
“For waiting so long?”
“It’s more serious than that. You have an overdue book. You have ignored all requests to return it.”
“I don’t remember an overdue book.”
“A book on helium.”
“Now I remember.”
“What happened, Mr. Kern? Did it just float away?” Librarians rarely attempt zingers. When they do, these can be quite good.
“I’ll return it today. Or let’s meet for dinner, and I’ll give it to you then.”
There was a long pause. “I suppose,” she said.
She wasn’t very enthusiastic. But as Paula Kowalski walked past her eyes met his. Just for a moment.
Kern’s telepathy was off. Way off. But even he could pick up on that.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com