For a Moment's Peace

Author : Sam Davis

“Ray, I’ve got proof! Come quick!” Leeroy’s voice came through the sheet over the doorway that ineffectively kept the July heat isolated to the livingroom. I wanted to go back to sleep but something in his tone dragged me from the comfort of my cot. I pushed past the sheet and began to yell.

“Goddamnit, Leeroy! Can’t a fella get a moments peace around here without…” Then I noticed that the ever present sound of static that typically emanated from the ‘space-radio’ was gone. It had been replaced by a noise that didn’t quite seem to all fit inside my ears. I stood, dumbfounded for a moment until, not uncharacteristically, Leeroy broke the pseudo-silence.

“It’s aliens, Ray! Gotta be. I been broadcasting math, just like you said would work. Sure as shootin’, it did work!” His excitement was palpable but I tried to bring him back down to Earth.

“It is probably just some malfunction from the cell tower over on Ol’ Riley’s place or somesuch.” As if the cosmos wanted to spite me, at that moment the noise stopped and through the windows of the doublewide came a blue glow like nothing I had seen before. The screen door snapped open, banging against the cheap aluminum siding, revealing to us a ship.

Of course there was no stopping Leeroy. Before I could stop him, he was out the door and waving eagerly at the ship. More concerned for Leeroy’s well-being than for my own, I followed him. We stood, in awe for several moments before the blue glow died.

Suddenly, three beings stood before us. There were no lights or noises like you always see on those late night made for T.V. movies. They just appeared. Small, lanky, and despite popular cinema, not naked, the aliens stared at us. It seemed like they were waiting for something. Of course, they didn’t have to wait for long before Leeroy opened his mouth.

“W-e-welcome to Earth! I am Leeroy and this here is my pal, Ray. I’ve been sending out the signals!” He pointed to himself and then to the ‘array’ he had cobbled together from stolen satellite dishes. No sooner had he done this when the foremost of the three pulled out a ray gun and shot poor Leeroy into dust.

I froze, petrified, waiting for my turn to come and prove Reverend Peters right-dust to dust. But it didn’t come. Instead they began to speak. Well, I say they spoke. It was more like a cat and a belt buckle in a dryer being tossed down a well. I shook my head, trying to indicate that I didn’t understand. One of the creatures came up to me so quick that I didn’t even have time to flinch. He slapped me right across the face, which I am fairly certain wasn’t entirely necessary, and then skittered back to the group. The dryer started up again but after a second or two, the dying cat transformed into understandable speech.

I can’t put into words what they said. Instead of translating their words into English, I simply understood what they were saying. I can only imagine they had a device or some alien ability that allowed us both to understand each other.

They explained that due to some anomaly in space somewhere along Leeroy’s transmission trajectory, his voice, his bumbled attempts to explain math, had been carried through space-time. For about 300 years, “the daemon in the ear”, as near as I can translate, had been speaking to them. Many of their people, traditionally long lived and peaceful, found the constant noise to be so annoying that wars were started and for the first time in centuries, suicide was considered.

As they explained all this, I sat in my recliner, after offering them a beer of course. Occasionally I paused them to ask a question for clarification and then they would resume the tale. Once they concluded, I asked if there was anything I could do. They told me to dismantle the communications equipment and go about my life. And try to make sure no one transmits from this point again.

Of course, I agreed. You don’t really disagree with aliens with disintegration rays, now do you? Then they kindly said they were going to be on their way. Sorry about my friend and all that. Then one of them shot the microwave.

Just in case, they said.