Gram cleaned up after dinner while Ron listened to Peters introduce a panel of experts. Where, Ron wondered, would they find their answers; in religion or science or science-fiction or military intrigue?
“I heard bits of that from the kitchen.” Gram settled into a chair beside Ron. “Do they really think she’s an alien?”
Ron muted the commercial. “It’s all guesswork. Some guy named Saunders repeated what everyone already knows about UFO sightings, crop circles, and alien encounters.”
“I didn’t catch the all of the aircraft explanations. Sounded pretty technical.”
“It was, and in the end they came back to the fact that all eyewitnesses said she simply appeared. Commercial’s over. Let’s see what else they have to say.”
“Your research has taken you into the world of science-fiction writers. How many of those imaginings are in fact reality?”
“Ah, the question that piques our collective interest.” Dr. Patrick launched into detailed explanations of Terahertz cameras that could see through clothes, skin, and even walls without X- rays, and an invisibility cloak that bent electromagnetic waves such as light to travel around objects and returned them to their original paths. But, he acknowledged that he didn’t know of any developments that could explain Madame’s sudden appearances.
Peters asked about her apparent invincibility.
“The scientific community has been in heated debate for the past few days, discussing that very question,” Patrick said. “Perhaps Miracle Madame has been able to create some sort of force field around her. This is of particular interest to me as our research team has been studying molecular transfer.”
“The beam-me-up-Scotty phenomenon?” Peters joked.
“In the vernacular, yes.” Here, too, he had scientific theory but no real answers.
“Even if she were to tell us of herself could we trust her to tell the truth?” The words were spoken coldly, accusingly by Col. Romanoff, attaché to the Secretary General of the United Nations.
Gram scowled. “I don’t care for that woman.”
“Me either,” Ron said. “Would you like a Baileys?” Ron came back with the drinks just as the panel launched into a discussion regarding Em’s ease with languages. Dr. Margaret Wiggins, linguistics expert from Oxford, argued that many people were multilingual but the languages they spoke were usually not so disparate. Nor did she think Madame used an electronic translator. Peters said that detailed examination of film footage had revealed nothing of that nature.
“On the surface, what she is doing supports the tenets of the United Nations and all who wish to see peace,” Col. Romanoff said. “But, I suggest we look deeper for her true motives.”
“Maybe she hypnotizes her audience,” Anderson said. “Maybe she uses some sort of nerve gas. The possibilities are endless. She could be out for control of the world.”
“For her own nefarious ends?” The idea evidently pleased Col. Romanoff. Her smirk said it all.
Gram snorted. “She’s a nasty one.”
“The military and peacekeepers are not likely to embrace her.” Col. Romanoff sniffed. “If she continues to end strife, she will put us all out of business.”
Gram snorted again. “That’s the whole point, dear girl. You just don’t get it, do you?” She turned to Ron. “Someone needs to give that woman a talking to.”
Ron raised his glass in a salute to Gram. “Some are saying that she is interfering with the divine will of God—”
“Maybe she is the divine will of God.”
“That, Dr. Patrick, is precisely the moral issue that we religious leaders are grappling with.” Rev. Marson looked pained. “Has she been sent by God? Is she trying to play God? Should we be idolizing her?”
“She’s not out to harm us, damn it. She’s here for our good, that’s obvious to anyone with half a brain.” Dr. Patrick half rose from his chair.
“How can you be so sure?” Col. Romanoff smiled condescendingly. “All, I’m saying is that—”
“Oh, good Lord, just listen to them.” Gram rose. “I can’t take anymore of this.” She patted Ron on the shoulder. “Goodnight dear.”
*
As we watched the panel, Elspeth grew increasingly agitated. “They’re so far off the mark it’s scary. Aren’t you worried?”
“No, it doesn’t really matter what they think. As long as they talk and talk and keep Em the center of attention, I’ll be happy.”
“It’s funny, thinking she’s an alien.”
“Yeah, they always forget they’d be aliens themselves anywhere off Earth.”
Suddenly Elspeth chucked. “That beam-me- up-Scotty thing was cute. Remember when you were in school and first started studying Earth, we used to watch that show. It was such a hoot. Didn’t have anything that much fun on my assigned planet. Exus was so boring.”
“Exus, wasn’t boring. You weren’t really interested. Back then, all you wanted to do was paint.”
Elspeth tilted her head. “Gotta go. My guy’s calling me.” She slipped away and I went back to watching Ron watch the panel. Poor sap. I could almost feel sorry for him but something nagged. Why did I keep seeing him? Of all the people on Earth, why him?
*
Ron awoke from a doze to see a guy named Smits interviewing Mustafa.
“You trusted a stranger and did what she said. Why? Weren’t you afraid? Did you not consider that she might be a ruse of the enemy?”
“Of course we thought of that. We’re not stupid. And no, we did not trust her. We did not want to listen to her. But, we had to. We were compelled to follow her. I can’t explain it, but there was something pushing us, a force of some sort, almost like a giant hand reaching out to guide us.”
“A force?” Smits sounded eager. “What do you mean?”
What did he mean? Ron wondered. A force of some sort exerted on Mustafa by her or a force of some sort exerted on her? An outside control would answer some of the questions? But what? Who? How? And, why?
“Something,” Mustafa said. “I don’t know. Something made us do as she said. Besides, it was a way out, don’t you see? An opportunity to act. We wanted to take the chance. We accepted the risk. We had to.”
Maybe it was as simple as that, Ron thought. A matter of people wanting what she offered.
“Mustafa, do you really expect us to believe that this mysterious woman who appeared from nowhere can be credited with saving the world?”
“I cannot speak for the world, but I can say with certainty that she has saved our country. We are a people not used to victory. And that is what she gave us today—a victory.”
As Mustafa turned his back on the interview, the camera caught a fleeting glimpse of François’ sardonic smile before the anchor segued smoothly to a station identification break.
*
“A fucking feeding frenzy,” I muttered. “Pardon?”
I spun to see Mentor standing to my right. Oh, Guardian! How to get out of this one? “It’s an earth word,” I said. “A rude one. Please accept my apology.” I trembled and hoped I sounded humble enough.
Mentor inclined her head. “What’s troubling you?”
“I wasn’t really prepared for the reaction to her.”
“You know how they are.”
“Yes, but … it’ s… they’ve given her a stupid name and are tripping over themselves attempting to analyze and explain her. They never tire of saying the same thing.” An ache enveloped my heart, something I’d never experienced before. I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Isn’t that what you need?”
“Yes, of course, but it’s so extreme.”
“You don’t like what you don’t control,” Mentor scolded. “You’re very like her, aren’t you?”
I supposed I was.
“Over time, their fixation will suit your purpose.” Mentor offered some reassurance and I held those words close. “Can she cope with it?”
“I think so.”
“Watch.”
A television in a store window caught Em’s eye. How it could still be functional in the aftermath of the bomb blast was a mystery. Her face on the screen, of course. Why would that surprise her? She listened to various experts theorize about her. The debate grew heated, voices rose, tempers flared.
“She’s wondering which, if any of them, are right,” I said. Mentor nodded and shushed me.
They were breathless with excitement, tripping over their words as they attempted to describe the events, to describe her, to outdo each other with adjectives and boundless, effusive praise or a pretense of intimate understanding and knowledge and inside information. Only François, bless his heart, was cool, objective, and rational. But then, he had been there.
Em stared at the television, uncomprehending. How could they, how could anyone, possibly explain what she herself couldn’t?
“You see!” I faced Mentor. “It’s so hard on her.”
“Then don’t let her see.”
Such a simple solution. Take Em away from the media coverage.