You've heard reports about strange lights
in the sky—flying saucers and all that rubbish!
A Joke? Illusion? Possibly, unless, of course—
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
March 1955
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
It wasn't my idea—I wasn't the first one to think of it. It startedwith John Kelley, who passed the idea on to me. And I'm going to dosomething about it. I think John wanted to but he never got the chance.
It began about two months ago when I was sitting at the lunch counterin Chicago's LaSalle Street station, drinking coffee. I was on mysecond cup when John walked in. He saw me about the same time Isaw him and came over to the counter and we gave each other theI-haven't-seen-you-for-years-what-are-you-doing-now routine.
Which was a laugh, in a way, because while he wouldn't know what I hadbeen doing, I couldn't help but know what he had been doing. And sowould you if I told you his right name. You wouldn't have recognizedhim, of course. He was the inconspicuous type, the sort of man whoblended in so well with his background you would have had to hunt tofind him, even if he was standing right in front of you. He was thin,not particularly tall, with limp, straw colored hair that clung closeto his scalp and a complexion that had never been exposed to the sun.He was dressed in an old blue suit, a shapeless hat that might havebeen new five years ago, and a lightweight gray topcoat that hadn'tbeen cleaned and pressed since he had bought it.
See? You wouldn't have noticed him at all.
It's a somewhat deceptive description, of course. John could haveafforded a Brooks Brothers suit and at least one Cadillac but the factwas that he preferred being inconspicuous and in his job it was adefinite advantage. Both John and I were reporters but the differencewas—as Oscar Levant would say—the difference between talent andgenius.
He ordered coffee then gave me a once-over with a pair of tired blueeyes that took in everything from my brown shoes that needed a shine tothe newest thing in string bow-ties.
"How's it going, Charley?"
I blew the loose sugar off a doughnut and dangled it just over the edgeof the cup. "It goes all right. It could be better but I suppose itcould be worse, too. What brings you to Chicago?"
"I'm on a story."
"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to pry."
He got a refill on his coffee and stirred in half a pound of sugar."You're not prying. As a matter of fact, maybe you can help me."
"What's up?"
"I'm doing a story about an invasion. It's one that started just a fewyears ago, one that I'm afraid was highly successful, and one that Ithink is still going on."
I looked at him blankly. "Invasion? What invasion?"
"One from out in space," he said casually. "You know, one from anotherplanet or another star. That type of invasion."
I sat there letting my coffee grow cold because all the time I wasthinking that the one thing in the world John Kelley didn't possess wasa sense of humor. As long as I had known him he had never told a jokeand came damn close to never laughing at any.
"I don't recall any reports of anybody running around with six arms orgreen 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 thefirst place are beings who could live here. And if they could livehere, then it's possible they could have the same s