It was a Friday. After work I stopped by Perry's Place with Fred
Schingle and Burk Walters from the main accounting office. I was hoping
it would turn out to be one of my nights to have a couple--but no. I
got the message and sat there, more or less sulking, in my half of the
booth.
Fred and Burk got to arguing about flying saucers. Fred said yes; Burk,
no. I stirred my coffee and sat in a neutral corner.
"Now look here," said Burk, "you say people have seen things. All
right. Maybe some of them have seen things--weather balloons, shadows,
meteors maybe. But space ships? Nonsense."
"No nonsense at all. I've seen pictures. And some of the reports are
from airline pilots and people like that, who are not fooled by
balloons or meteors. They have seen ships, I tell you, ships from outer
space. And they are observing us."
"Drivel!"
"It is not!"
"It's drivel. Now look, Fred. You too, Johnny, if you're awake over
there. How long have they been reporting these things? For years. Ever
since World War II.
"All right. Ever since the war, at least. So. Suppose they were space
ships? Whoever was in them must be way ahead of us technically. So why
don't they land? Why don't they approach us?"
Fred shrugged. "How would I know? They probably have their reasons.
Maybe they figure we aren't worth any closer contact."
"Hah! Nonsense. The reason we don't see these space people, Fred my
boy, admit it, is because there aren't any. And you know it!"
"I don't know anything of the damned sort. For all any of us know, they
might even be all around us right now."
Burk laughed. I smiled, a little sourly, and drained my coffee.