The Second Invasion from Mars
June 1 (3 am.)
O this accursed conformist world!
Lord, on top of everything else - Artemis! Looks like she's gotten mixed up with that Nicostratus after all. That's what you call a daughter.... Well, so be it.
About one o'clock this morning I was awakened by a terrific but distant rumbling and was startled by an ominous play of red lights over the walls of my bedroom. The rumbling went on roaring and reverberating like the sound of an earthquake, so that the whole house shook, the window-panes rattled and the vials danced on the nightstand. I rushed in a fright to the window. In the north the sky was aflame: it seemed as if the earth was gaping out there beyond the horizon and spewing fountains of multicolored fire up to the very stars. But on the bench right under my window, those two, seeing and hearing nothing, all lit up by the infernal commotion and rocking with the subterranean tremors, were embracing each other and kissing full on the mouth. I immediately recognized Artemis and assumed that Charon had returned, that she was so glad to see him she was kissing him like a bride instead of leading him straight to the bedroom. A second later, in the light of the red sky, I recognized the illustrious foreign-made jacket of Mr. Nicostratus, and my heart sank. Such moments as these ruin a man's constitution. And yet you couldn't say that this hit me like a bolt from the blue. There had been rumors, hints, all sorts of little jokes. And still I was knocked dead.
Clutching my heart, completely at a loss what to do, I made my way in my bare feet to the living room and began to phone the police. But just try to get through to the police when you need them. The line at the station was busy for a long time, and when someone did answer, who should be on duty but Pandareus. I asked him what phenomenon was that observable on the horizon. He didn't know what a phenomenon was. I asked him, "Can you tell me what's happening on the northern horizon?" He tried to figure out where that might be. I was at my wit's end to explain it to him, when finally he caught on.
"Ah-h-h," he says, "you mean the big fire?" And he reported that some sort of burning had indeed been observed, but what kind of burning it was and what was being burned had not been determined as yet. The house was quaking, everything was creaking, people were on the street pitifully screaming about war, and this old horse's ass starts telling me that they'd just brought Minotaur into the station: he was dead drunk, he'd defiled the corner of Mr. Laomedon's estate, and he couldn't stand up or even fight.
"Are you going to do anything about it or not?" I interrupted him.
"That's what I'm trying to tell you, Mr. Apollo," says this ass, taking offense, "I have to make a report, and you're tying me up on the telephone. If you're all so upset about the fire..."
"What if it's a war?" I asked him.
"No, it's not a war," he declared. "I would've known."
"What if it's an eruption?" I asked. He didn't know what an eruption was. I couldn't stand it anymore and hung up. Sweaty all over from this conversation, I went back to the bedroom and put on my robe and slippers.
The rumbling seemed to have quieted down, but the flashing continued. Those two were no longer kissing or even sitting on the bench in each other's arms but were standing hand-in-hand where anyone could see them, since the fire lit up the horizon as bold as day. Only the light wasn't white, but reddish orange, with clouds the color of watery coffee drifting across it. The neighbors were running around in the street in whatever, Mrs. Eurydice was grabbing people by their pajamas and demanding to be saved, and only Myrtilus took a businesslike approach, rolled his truck out of the garage and along with his wife and sons set about loading his household possessions. It was a real panic, just as in the good old days - I hadn't seen one like it for a long time. But as for me, I understood that if an atomic war had broken out, you couldn't find a better place in the region than our town for hiding, waiting, sitting it out. And if it was an eruption, then it was occurring somewhere far away, so once again our town wasn't threatened. Besides, it was doubtful that it was an eruption. What kind of eruption could we have?
I went upstairs and tried to wake Hermione. It was the same old story: "Leave me alone, you sot. You shouldn't drink at night - I don't want to now...." And so on. Then I started telling her in a loud and convincing voice about the atomic war and the eruption, laying on the colors rather thick, since otherwise I would never get anywhere. This got through to her, she leaped out of bed, shoved me out of the way and dashed straight for the kitchen, grumbling: "I'm going to take a look, and then you'd better watch out...." Unlocking the cupboard, she examined the bottle of cognac. I kept cool. "Where'd you get yourself in this state?" she asked, sniffing at me suspiciously. "What den of iniquity did you go to tonight?"
But when she looked out the window and saw our neighbors half-dressed in the street, when she saw Myrtilus in his underdrawers propped up on his roof and peering through his field glasses to the north, she forgot about me. As it happened, the northern horizon had again sunk into silence and darkness, though you could still make out a cloud of smoke completely obscuring the stars. What can you say? My Hermione is no Mrs. Eurydice for you. A different age and a different upbringing. I'd barely managed to down a glass of cognac when she dragged out the suitcases and called to Artemis at the top of her voice. Go on and call her, call her, I thought bitterly, maybe she'll hear you.
At that moment Artemis appeared at the door to her room. Lord! Pale as death, shaking all over, but with her pajamas already on and curlers in her hair. She asks, "What is it? What are you all shouting about?"
You've got to admit it, she's got guts. If this phenomenon hadn't occurred, I'd never have found out anything, and Charon even less. Our eyes met, she smiled at me affectionately but with trembling lips, and I decided not to utter the words on the tip of my tongue. To calm myself down, I went to my room and began to pack my stamps. You tremble, I said to her mentally, you shake. You're lonely, scared and unprotected. But he didn't support you or protect you. He picked a flower of pleasure and ran off on his own business. No, my dear, when a man's without honor, he's without honor to the very end.
Meanwhile, as I expected, the panic was quickly subsiding. It became an ordinary night again, the earth no longer shook, the houses didn't creak. Someone had taken Mrs. Eurydice home. No one was shouting about war anymore, particularly since there wasn't anything more to shout about. Glancing out the window, I saw that the street was deserted, only one or two houses had their lights on and Myrtilus was still on his roof, standing out among the stars in his underpants. I called over to him and asked what he could see.
"Sure, sure," he said irritably. "Go to bed, snore. You snore, and they'll give it to you...."
I asked who "they" were.
"Sure, sure," responded Myrtilus. "You wise guys know it all. Along with your Pandareus. He's a fool, your Pandareus, and nothing else but."
Hearing about Pandareus, I decided to phone the police again. It took a long time to get through, but when at long last I did, Pandareus informed me that there was no special news, but as for the rest everything was in order, drunk Minotaur had been shot with a sedative, had his stomach cleaned out and dropped off to sleep. About the big fire, the burning had stopped a long time ago, especially since it turned out not to be burning at all, but a big holiday fireworks display. While I was trying to recall what holiday it was, Pandareus hung up. He really is stupid and revoltingly uneducated, and he always has been. It's strange to see people like that in our police force. Our policemen should be intellectuals, models for the youth, heroes to be emulated, people you can safely entrust not only with weapons and authority, but also with educational work. But Charon considers such a police force a "company of eggheads." He says no state would want my kind of police force because it would start arresting and reeducating the very people the state finds most useful, beginning with the Prime Minister and the Chief of Police. I don't know, I don't know, could be. But for the senior officer not to know what a phenomenon is and to act like a clod while performing his duties - who needs it?