"One from out in space," he said casually. "You know, one from another
planet or another star. That type of invasion."
I sat there letting my coffee grow cold because all the time I was
thinking that the one thing in the world John Kelley didn't possess was
a sense of humor. As long as I had known him he had never told a joke
and came damn close to never laughing at any.
"I don't recall any reports of anybody running around with six arms or
green skin or tentacles instead of limbs," I protested mildly.
* * * * *
He shook his head, deadly serious. "You're not looking at it logically,
Charley. The only beings who would be interested in the planet in the
first place are beings who could live here. And if they could live
here, then it's possible they could have the same sort of physical
make-up." He paused. "Maybe the exact same sort of physical make-up.
Even to the extent of the average man's desire to avoid trouble."
Kelley had something there. Every time you think of an invasion from
outer space, you think of a hundred huge rocket ships settling down
with ray guns going full blast and king-sized atomic bombs breaking up
the landscape. Actually, of course, it doesn't have to be like that at
all. Granted a physical resemblance in the first place, then maybe it
wouldn't be an invasion. It might be more of an ... infiltration.
I jerked my thumb towards the people who crowded around the train
gates and sprawled out on the benches. "You mean that some of those
people aren't ... genuine?"
"That's right," John said slowly. "Some of them aren't the real McCoy."
I watched the people for a moment more, staring hard at the old man
buying a paper at the newsstand and the old woman who was selling it to
him.
"How can you tell which are which?"
"I can't. So far as I know, there isn't any way."
He had forgotten his coffee now. It sat at his elbow, an unappetizing
mixture of lukewarm grounds, cigarette ash, and disintegrated doughnut.
"Any leads?"
"You've been reading them every day, Charley. A dozen times a year
somebody sees flashes in the sky, a dozen times lights settle down in
relatively uninhabited sections of the country. Sure, people see them
and report them. And what happens?" He shrugged. "The papers treat
them as part of the silly season, readers only glance at the reports.
You know as well as I that nobody packs up a camera to go out and
investigate."
I took another look around the station. The bored people, sitting on
benches and reading their papers. The mother with her baby, sleeping
now but one you knew would be squalling in a few minutes. The porter
sweeping up just in front of the wash-room. The man in the information
booth rifling through a stack of time-tables.
All very prosaic all very every dayish. I turned back to Kelley, my
face showing disbelief.
"You don't believe me, do you?"