So the damaged saucer with its dead crew landed nearby, apparently on automatic, and fortunately for us, a door popped open, whether by accident or design we will never know. Not that getting inside the ship helped us at all. You see, although we picked up the spacecraft and its crew of little gray men, in fifty years we haven’t been able to find out anything about their technology. Literally, we can’t even scratch the surface of any of their materials, and the alien space suits are the same. We can’t even get into the space suits to autopsy the little gray guys! And no, they haven’t rotted.
In other words, we haven’t learned a single damned thing, in all this time. Not that any other nation—or our own public—would believe us.
We’ve been waiting for fifty years for another contact, so we can at least say we’re sorry and would they like to try again, please, but they haven’t said anything else at all. Not so much as a radio message, even though their craft still buzz our nuclear bases regularly. Are they looking for their people or what? We don’t know what their crew reported back home before the V-2 crashed into them; we don’t know if they’re pissed off out there or what. For obvious reasons, we never told any other countries about this, and sure don’t want them to find out now, after all this time, not in the shape CWII has got us into. So we’ve got to kill any and all rumors of crashed vehicles from space, and Roswell was Numero Uno on that list. Now I’ll be able to squelch it for good, with Frank’s hilarious revelations about the Space Monkey of 1947.
But I’m not laughing. If Frank and the German’s hadn’t tried their misbegotten monkey experiment, if that V-2 hadn’t been launched, if it hadn’t killed that alien delegation, no telling where we might be traveling today—Alpha Centauri, maybe, or out in the Magellanic Cloud. We just don’t know, even though the Agency has people studying possible alien psychologies. I don’t even understand some humans very well; I’m afraid aliens might be even weirder than we can imagine.
But surely something is going on with those guys out there. Even for aliens, fifty years is a long time to hold a grudge, don’t you think?