The Man Who Fell to Earth

Newton remained smiling. “It’s amazing how people don’t think things out.” he said. “At least that’s what a man with the CIA told me.” He began pouring himself another drink of gin, and Bryce noticed that his hand trembled while he did it. He set the bottle down shakily. “The record is not of Anthean poems at all. It’s something like a letter.”

“A letter to whom?”

“To my wife, Mr. Bryce. And to some of the wise people at my home who trained me for… for this life. I’ve hoped it might be played on FM radio sometimes. You know, only FM goes between planets. But as far as I know it hasn’t been played.”

“What does it say?”

“Oh, ‘Goodbye.’ ‘Go to hell.’ Things of that sort.”

Bryce was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. For a moment he wished he had brought Betty Jo with him. Betty Jo would be marvelous for restoring sanity, for making things understandable, even bearable. But then Betty Jo happened to believe that she was in love with T. J. Newton, and that might even be more awkward than this. He remained silent, not knowing what in the world to say.

“Well, Nathan — I suppose you won’t mind if I call you Nathan. Now that you’ve found me, what do you want of me?” He smiled beneath the glasses and the ridiculous hat. His smile seemed as old as the moon; it was hardly a human smile at all.

Bryce suddenly felt embarrassed, at the smile, at Newton’s grave, tired, terribly weary tone of voice. He poured himself a drink before answering, inadvertently clinking the bottle mouth against the glass. Then he drank, looking hard at Newton, at the flat, unreflecting green of Newton’s glasses. He held the clear plastic drinking glass between both hands, elbows on the table, and said, “I want you to save the world, Mr. Newton.”

Newton’s smile did not change, and his reply was immediate. “Is it worth saving, Nathan?”

He had not come here to exchange ironies. “Yes,” he said. “I think it’s worth saving. I want to live out my life, anyway.”

Abruptly Newton leaned forward in his chair toward the bar. “Mr. Elbert,” he called, “Mr. Elbert.”

The bartender, a small man with a sad, pinched face, looked up from his reveries. “Yeah, dad?” he said gently.

“Mr. Elbert,” Newton said, “are you aware that I’m not a human being? Did you know that I’m from another planet, Anthea by name, and that I came here on a spaceship?”

The bartender shrugged. “I’ve heard that,” he said.

“Well I am and I did,” Newton said, “Oh, I did indeed.” He paused, and Bryce stared at him — shocked not by what Newton had said, but by the childish, adolescent, silly quality in his voice. What had they done to him? Had they only blinded him?

Newton called to the bartender again. “Mr. Elbert, do you know why I came to this world?”

This time the bartender did not even look up. “No, dad,” he said, “I haven’t heard.”

“Well, I came to save you.” Newton’s voice was precise, ironical, but there was a hint of hysteria in it. “I came to save you all.”

Bryce could see the bartender smile a private smile. Then, still behind the bar, he said, “You’d better get with it, dad. We need saving fast.”

Then Newton hung his head, whether in shame, despair, or fatigue Bryce could not tell. “Oh, yes indeed.” he said in what was almost a whisper. “We need saving fast.” Then he looked up and smiled at Bryce. “Do you see Betty Jo?” he asked.

That caught him off guard. “Yes…”

“How is she? How is Betty Jo?”

“She’s all right. She misses you.” And then, “As Mr. Elbert said, ‘We need saving fast.’ Can you do it?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Isn’t there a chance?”

“No. Of course not. The government knows all about me…”

“You told them?”

“I might have; but it wasn’t necessary. They seem to have known for a long time. I think we were naive.”

“Who? You and I?”

“You. I. My people back home, my wise people…” He called out softly, “We were naive, Mr. Elbert.”

Elbert’s reply was as soft. “That a fact, dad?” He sounded genuinely concerned, as if he really believed, for a moment, what Newton was talking about.

“You came a long way.”

“Oh, I did indeed. And on a small ship. Sail on, sail on, and on… It was a very long trip, Nathan, but I spent much of the time reading.”

“Yes. But I didn’t mean that. I meant you’ve come a long way since you’ve been here. The money, the new ship…”

“Oh I’ve made a lot of money. I still make a lot. More than ever. I have money in Louisville and money in New York and five hundred dollars in my pocket and a Medicare pension from the government. I’m a citizen now, Nathan. They made me a citizen. And perhaps I could draw unemployment insurance. Oh, World Enterprises is a going concern, without my running it at all, Nathan. World Enterprises.”

Bryce, appalled by the strange way that Newton looked and talked, found it difficult to keep his eyes on him, so he looked down at the table instead. “Can’t you finish the ship?”

“Do you think they’d let me?”

“With all your money…”

“Do you think I want to?”

Bryce glanced up at him. “Well, do you?”