Okay. So the question remains: if there’s no intelligent life here, is there intelligent life elsewhere? Inquiring minds want to know.

I suspect that there is intelligent life out there, somewhere. The universe is vast, and the amount of acreage out there is probably unfathomable to those of us who reside on this planet.

I’d presume that should our space brothers visit us (aliens, I decided, is too negative a term because it denotes “otherness”) that they’d be members of interplanetary Mensa, for doing the time travel thing is no mean feat.

I suspect that these highly intelligent beings would take a look around and quickly depart. It would be readily evident to them that we humans are destructive, sex obsessed creatures who’ve done a very good job at fouling our nest. They’d be right in thinking that should one of us abductees escape, that we’d most likely mess up their air and water supply.

I often wondered if I’d willingly leave good old planet earth if I was invited to live elsewhere. (Yes, I think that I or anyone else would be asked because being polite coincides with having a more genetically evolved intellectual capacity.) I finally concluded that yes, I’d go, that is after taking a few days to put my affairs in order. (I have several affairs going at once, and in all fairness to those involved, would want my suitors to know why I’m abandoning them.

I’d also have to be assured that my family members and my animals would be well tended to in my absence. And then there’s Pete. It would be his choice, and his choice alone, as to whether he’d stay put or go with. Either way, I would not pressure him.

I’m not sure what my space brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and aunts and uncles and second cousins twice removed would want to know, but I’d let them (figuratively) pick my brain.

I’m peaceful, deplore the use of weaponry, have good communication skills, and a fun-loving attitude. I routinely hug trees and warn wildlife when hunters are in the area. I also recycle. And I enjoy long walks on the beach, as well as candlelit dinners. Thus, I’d be a good representative.

I would leave, knowing that I would never come back, for I’d doubt that anyone here would believe me if I said that I’d been elsewhere. In all likelihood I’d be sent to live on the ninth floor of the Butterscotch Palace. There I’d exchange stories with the true believers -- my fellow intergalactic time travelers.

Space Brother
The voice at the far end of the phone
did not say take me to your leader
but rather, “I am your leader.”
This is what I told the supermarket shelf stocker
who told me that we don’t need any idiots from outer space
messing with our country’s affairs.
He added that corn was on sale
--the dented cans had fallen from the sky
and contained radioactive transmitters.
I, who had a direct link to my new leader
did as I was told, and instead sought out
the fresh vegetables.

Next: 145. 05/2/13: A Year Later