#42
Do Not Adjust Your Set
(Part 2 of 2)
By Jeffrey Blair Latta
ALL THROUGH THE LONG, LONELY NIGHT, Robert Rhodes walked the city streets sunk in a dismal gloom.
A light rain was falling and the sidewalks shone like black glass.
From time to time, thunder cleared its throat and lightning strobed in
the distance, as if heralding the approach of the invading fleet.
And there was nothing he could do.
His wife was a Martian
-- his beautiful wife, Janice, who he had sworn to love "till death do
you part". Five years he had lived with her, five wonderful, fulfilling
years -- never suspecting, never imagining...
And now they knew.
They knew he knew about their plan. By now, Janice -- or the alien
formerly called "Janice" -- would have contacted P.J. (or the alien formerly
called "P.J."), and told him what Rhodes had said. And P.J. would
tell the others.
Then Rhodes had a thought.
How many others were
there like Janice? He realized he had been a fool to assume P.J.
was working alone. Clearly there were many more, an advance invasion,
in fact, hidden as humans, disguised, observing, preparing the way.
Maybe even Dorothy Patterson, for all he knew.
And now they knew he
was on to them. What would they do? Would they kill him?
Janice had said nothing after removing her mask, not even as Rhodes staggered
from the bedroom, down the stairs and out into a night of sprinkling rain
and rumbling thunder. There had been no threats; there had been no
need. Rhodes understood the situation well enough. They might
kill him, but they might not. After all, what harm could he do to
them? Who would believe his ludicrous story?
They had done their
job well.
Suddenly he began to
laugh. The irony of the thing hit him in a sudden lurching rush,
stopping him in his tracks and throwing him into wide fits of hysterical
laughter. Here he was, a newsman, an anchorman, the spokesman for
truth, the voice the people trust...and he couldn't even make them believe
him!
For a moment, he stood
there, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead, while his laughter
died away to a weary chuckle. A homeless man sitting on a grate gave
him a suspicious look. Rhodes returned the stare dazedly, a half-smile
still frozen on his face. With a shrug the homeless man turned away,
hunching over the grate to keep warm. Rhodes continued to watch the
man, for a full minute more -- while realization slowly took form in his
tangled thoughts. He couldn't let the Martians win; this homeless
man, and five billion other inhabitants of the planet Earth were counting
on him to save them. They didn't know it, but they were. He
was a newsman, damn it! They trusted him. They believed he
would be there to tell them the truth.
And that was what he
was going to do.
He knew how to make
them believe. Now he knew. There was only one way, but it would
carry a terrible price...
As he made his way to the make-up room, startled eyes rose from behind cubicles, conversations faltered and pools of silence floated in his wake. The producer, Rachel Phillips, was one; the first AD was another. Dorothy Patterson, thank God, was not. Suddenly, P.J.'s officer door jerked open and the boss himself stepped out. He covered his surprise remarkably well, but Rhodes saw it just the same. P.J. gave him a thin smile, then commented in a chilly voice, "Glad to see you could make it, Rhodes."
"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," the anchor man replied, then escaped into the make-up room.
Twenty minutes later, he took his place before the camera. The set was far more crowded than usual. The aliens had gathered to see what he would do. Even P.J., who never attended, now lurked in the darkness, behind the lights, watching.
"On air in five, four, three, two..."
The red light lit up on the camera and, for a moment, Rhodes just stared into the lens in silence. Finally, he set aside the script he was supposed to read.
"What I am about to tell you will be difficult for you to believe," he began, and P.J.'s eyes narrowed venomously. "But you have to believe me."
He paused, swallowed, then forged ahead: "Tonight, aliens from the planet Mars will invade Earth. We at Canadawide were supposed to be presenting a mock broadcast about such an invasion precisely so that no one would believe you if you reported seeing the invaders. By the time the authorities realized the invasion was real it would be too late. Of course, I don't expect you to believe what I am saying. But I will make you believe. I have to."
For a moment, his eyes went to P.J.'s and he could see the mocking challenge reflected there. He looked back at the camera. "These Martians are not the first to have come to Earth. Others came before, paving the way, living among you in disguise. My boss, P.J. White, is one. My producer is another." A tremor shook his voice. "My wife Janice is also one."
Again he paused, feeling a terrible weight crushing down on him like an avalanche. This was it. "Martians have visited Earth and lived amongst you for a long time, without you knowing it. Now, they are only allowing me to continue with this broadcast because they don't believe I can convince you that they are real. They think their plan is perfect. They think nothing I can possibly do will keep you from thinking I am crazy." He paused and straightened defiantly in his chair. "Well, they are wrong."
And, saying that, Robert Rhodes calmly pulled off his mask...
