Alien Affairs

July 6, 1953

Miles Ashly bore an uncanny resemblance to the Monopoly game tycoon. However, his mustache drooped giving him a walrus-like aspect and his tweed jackets added a professorial air. Nothing unnerved him more than change and in the previous months he had witnessed the inauguration of a new president and the appointment of a new director of the CIA. The fact that the new director wanted to see him added to his unease.

Ashly checked his watch, grabbed a spiral pad, and with a shrug of his shoulders, went to the office of Allen Dulles where he found the new director to be a young looking middle-aged man wearing horn rim glasses and smoking a pipe. Also in the room was a reed-like man in a baggy blue suit with the shine of too many pressings. Both men rose, Dulles smiled and pointed with the stem of his pipe as he shook hands. He said, “This is Lambert Gray from Cryptography. Do you two know each other?”

“Afraid I haven’t had the pleasure,” Ashly said while shaking hands with the cryptographer.

Gray only nodded by way of greetings.

When all were seated Dulles said, “You may wonder why I have asked for a meeting with a linguist and a cryptographer.” Getting no response, he continued. “I have something to show you.” He pulled a drawer open and set a metallic object on his desk blotter that was about half the size of a dime novel. “Gentlemen, I have received this from Army Intelligence. It is a device that displays text on its front and characters move as the text advances. Imagine reading a book on a tiny television screen. Army has had it for some five years attempting to microfilm each supposed page before whatever powers it goes dead. It shows no sign of running down or reaching an end, and frankly, they are just tired of photographing it, so they brought it over here to see if we can decipher it. That will be your jobs.”

Lambert Gray looked skeptical. “So why do you need a cryptographer?”

Ashly ask, “What language is it written in?”

Dulles looked smug. “We don’t know what language and the unique skills of a cryptographer may be useful in discovering patterns in the syntax.”

“Where did it come from?” Ashly asked.

Dulles again looked like he was playing a game that amused him. “It came from New Mexico where it was pried from the hand of a being from another planet.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Gray interrupted.

“Gentlemen, I am deadly serious. In 1947 a flying disc crashed near the Roswell Army Air Field. The fragments of the craft, the crew and this object were recovered in secret.”

“What happened to the extraterrestrials?” Gray asked.

“Three were killed on impact, the last died shortly thereafter.”

“And the live one was holding this thing?”

“Yes, in fact it was trying to destroy it.”

“So, naturally you think there is something in there it didn’t want us to know,” Ashly said.

“Exactly, and it’s time we found out what it is. Now, the curious thing is it only works when you first pick it up.” He lifted it and showed the display to the two CIA analysts. “Note the words rise on the screen for a few seconds then stop. You also get a weird sensation in your head until it stops. Try it.”

Each took a turn holding it and observing the curious motion on the featureless front of the metal rectangle. Ashly returned it to Dulles. “It’s surprisingly light.”

“Yes, and completely without seams or screws or any indication of how to get inside. It’s been x-rayed, and aside from a small ovoid of high-density material in one corner, it seems to be empty. There is speculation that it is the thing’s battery—possibly nuclear, although it leaks no radiation—and no one can guess how it might generate power but no heat.”

Gray asked warily, “So, what are we to do with it?”

“Why, learn to read it, of course. You’ve got the device itself with its incrementing display and tens of thousands of frames of microfilm. Find out what it says and why the damned alien didn’t want us to have it.”

Both men drew a deep breath and let it out strongly.

Dulles said, “Oh, by the way, I know you have signed the secrecy agreement and that you have top secret clearance, but let me remind that this whole incident has been the best kept secret in the world for five years. At least one person has died as a result of indiscretion. This information is strictly ‘need to know’.”

Outside of the director’s office, Gray said, “Where do we begin with a thing like this?”

Ashly twitched his mustache and replied, “I think we begin with a good stiff drink.”

The neighborhood that housed the nondescript offices of the newly organized Central Intelligence Agency contained its fair share of bars. Lambert Gray steered them to an Irish pub that he frequented. He ordered a Guinness and Ashly a brandy, then perused the menu quickly.

“We need to set up a lab of sorts where you can have a microfilm reader and I can work with the thing itself. I suppose they won’t let us have a secretary.”

“Why do I have to work with a film reader?” Gray asked.

“You can play with it when I don’t need it.” Ashly took it out of his jacket pocket. “What the devil is that tingle in your temples when it starts to scroll?”

“Christ, put the thing away. There’s people in here.”

“Who the hell is going to know what it is?”

“Just the same, if somebody asks questions, or God forbid, you lose it, we’re dead ducks.”

“Ah, Bertie, don’t worry so. This is going to be quite a challenge.”