13

Though she accepted teeping, Welles still considered it an invasion, and she bent all her available resources toward understanding the Aliens and developing ways for the Martians to defend themselves against their technological hegemony. She did not, however, expect to receive answers from Ross.

‘I have it!’ Ross declared as he threw down a stack of photographs on Welles’ desk.

‘Are those...’

‘I’ve finally figured out what the fucking croakers are up to with all these anal probes of theirs!’

‘It isn’t teeping?’ said Welles.

‘It’s turning all of us—our whole species—into a bunch of simpleminded idiots. They’re degrading our intelligence to the point where all of humanity will exhibit one unbroken scene of moral and intellectual desolation.’¹

Welles herself had wondered what the effects of teeping might be on the Martian mind, but she was not a little surprised to discover similar thoughts in Ross. He was not usually so reasonable.

‘Show me what you mean,’ said Welles.

‘It’s that thing they’re shoving up people’s assholes. They even call it a parasite! I mean how could anyone miss it?’

‘Slow down!’ said Welles. ‘Just tell me what you’re talking about.’

‘It changes us. I mean it makes visible changes to the human body. It’s right there in broad daylight.’

Ross jabbed a finger at the photographs on Welles’ desk.

‘These look to be pictures of different people’s naked behinds,’ said Welles. ‘I’m not sure I follow you.’

‘Look at this! This one here. See? This is a person who has been teeping for just two months! Look at that! And this one...just look at this one! Teeping for half a year—the top of the glutes is practically withered away!’

‘I don’t know that I see...’

‘Okay. It’s so obvious, even I didn’t see it at first. Clearly size, other things being equal, is the measure of power.² It’s the basis of all my calculations and reasonings.’³

‘The size of what?’

‘The ass, Mrs President! The size of the ass. You can’t tell me that you haven’t noticed the scrawny underdeveloped asses the croakers have. And I ask you, do these images of humans who have been given one of those goddamned parasites have more of a resemblance to that of the Alien or a healthy human?’⁴

‘They look like normal asses to me,’ said Welles.

‘Normal!’ roared Ross, and carried away by his excitement, he whirled around, dropped his pants, and bent over so that his naked buttocks were prominently displayed before Welles.

‘This is what a normal human ass looks like! I don’t have one of those parasites, and so mine looks like our asses always have.’

Welles rose from behind her desk and approached the bent-over Ross, who was still explaining the differences between his posterior and that of the Martians who had begun teeping.

‘Mr Ross,’ she said when he finally paused, ‘for a man of your age, you have a stunningly well-toned ass. And it looks like you keep your asshole clean, I appreciate that in a man.’

Ross stood up erect, startled by the sudden change in the conversation. Welles pressed herself against his bare backside and reached around to cup his testicles.

‘Why don’t you turn around and let me see if your cock is just as delicious as your ass.’

I believe this is the first time that they had intercourse, and the fact that they were lovers goes a long way toward explaining the extraordinary forebearance Welles exhibited toward Ross. How else could she tolerate his absurd theories about the Aliens? I may be grasping at straws here, because it remains a shocking fact that it none of the Martians even came close to comprehending the workings of the Alien economy. Perhaps if Flinders had not died, a mind like his could have helped the Martians bridge the gap. But as it was, they were like people trying to play the famous Martian game of chess with only the pawns. They had almost no understanding of attention as the basis of all economic action, nor of the infinite uses to which it could be put. And it is of course true that the Martians failed entirely to understand that teeping was simply about getting attention.