Page 53 - Extraterrestrials, Foreign and Domestic

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could just as easily be kept drugged and imprisoned in a cellar out
in the boondocks. And we’ve all been plucked out of our normal
routine without a trace of memory or sign of physical harm—
simultaneously, it would appear. As difficult as it may be for you
to accept, we should face the fact that we are probably no longer
on the face of the earth. We have been snatched by aliens: two
men, two women, like a random sample of wild animals captured
for a zoo. This is a cage, designed to mimic the conditions of
human indoor living. Everything we do, every move we make,
every physiological reaction, is being monitored, recorded and
analyzed by creatures from another galaxy. If we are lucky, when
they are done with us they will put us back where we came from; if
not, well...I guess they could take us back to their home planet, or
they could kill us and perform autopsies to learn more about our
internal organs. They might even hope we’ll pair off and breed.”
Ann squawked.
“Never! You people don’t want to face the most obvious
explanation of all, because you are not believers in the truth of the
Bible and the final judgement of God. We are dead, don’t you see
it? And we are in Purgatory, awaiting the disposition of our souls.
It just happened that we all died around the same time, so we were
sent to the same holding area. This is a waiting room somewhere
in the ether—of course it does not look like any terrestrial
enclosure! When it is time for us to go to heaven or to hell, the
recording angel will appear and send us on our way. I do not think
we are all bound for the same destination, but that is not for me to
say. My conscience is clear; whatever minor sins I may have
committed during my brief tenure on earth could not possibly
prevent me from attaining the promised reward.”
Wilton’s applauding palms beat the ensuing silence into a flat
and featureless expanse with a vanishing point far outside the
unyielding walls.
“Very good,” he drawled. “And no easier to prove than my own
theory.”
“Which is what?” inquired Ann acidly.
“Well, you could not expect me to subscribe to any philosophy
other than solipsism. Long ago I quit trying to distinguish
stupefied fantasies from cold sober nightmares. If this is or is not

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