Mr. Smith
1.
The doorbell rang and Danny cursed silently to himself. He hated to be disturbed during Monday Night Football, but this was not the first time. Reluctantly, he rose from his favorite chair and headed towards the front door. No mean effort for the portly Danny Mann.
Opening the door, Danny saw a distinguished, well-dressed man standing on the other side of the bullet proof storm door. Not the kind of character that usually shows up here unannounced, he thought.
"Mr. Mann?" The man spoke before Danny could address him first.
"Yes."
"My name is Tom Smith. I have something to tell you that you will be most interested in. May I enter?" Mr. Smith was exceedingly polite.
As an investigative reporter with over 40 years of experience, Danny Mann could size up people quickly and accurately. Something about Mr. Smith rang an alarm bell in his head, his demeanor not withstanding. Still, his instincts seldom lied and this time they told him to let Mr. Smith in. After only a moment's hesitation, Danny offered, "Please come in."
"Thank you," Mr. Smith replied, "I know you hate to be bothered during evening football telecasts, particularly when your beloved Chiefs are playing. Were they playing tonight, I would have come some other time."
Danny didn't know what to think of this man. Tom Smith was tall and slender, sporting a deep suntan and expensive clothes. He looked to be around 60 years of age, but gave the appearance of youth and vigor. His brown hair was well manicured and highlighted a slight graying around the temples. He wore a neatly trimmed mustache, which complemented blue eyes and bushy eyebrows. Whatever else this guy turns out to be, Danny concluded, he certainly is a cut above most people I meet in this business. But, how does he know so much about me? Though a famous man, Danny always kept his private life to himself.
Danny was in a state of mild bewilderment as he escorted his guest into the study. Rubbing his hand through thinning hair, he led the way through the short, dark hallway. Danny Mann was a lifelong bachelor and lived in a modest, but well kept, condo. The study was the biggest and best room in his home. It was where he spent most of his time. Though well kept, one noticed immediately upon entering the faint smell of whiskey and cheap cigars. Danny's housekeeper fought the valiant battle.
"Please sit, Mr. Smith," Danny said as he motioned to the large leather chair on the other side of his desk. Danny was very proud of the twin leather chairs in his office. Persons that visited appreciated sitting in as nice a chair as his. It made them feel good and, when they felt good, they talked. It occurred to Danny that he had not yet uttered half a dozen sentences to his new acquaintance, but felt he knew him well.
"Thank you," the visitor replied as he took his seat. "I know that you, as I, do not appreciate small talk, so I will get to the point. My name is not really Tom Smith and I am not from here."
Danny nodded. He didn't think "Tom Smith" fit a man such as this, nor was he surprised that he was not from Kansas City. Many people in this world are not from Kansas City, he thought wryly. Politely, he answered, "So?"
"Mr. Mann, I have visited you because you are well known to your people and have a generally positive influence upon them. When I say I am not from here, I mean that I am what you would call an alien." "Tom Smith" spoke without emotion.
"Where are you from?" He asked, in his raspy voice. Danny guessed Europe: Spain, maybe.
"I am not an alien from another country. I am from another time and space."
Danny dealt with many head cases through the years. He had tossed guys out on their ears for less than this, but, again, his instincts told him to keep listening.
As if reading his host's mind, the man said, "You are wise not to dismiss these seemingly absurd remarks out of hand. I will show you proof of everything I say."
"Continue," Danny replied, patiently.
"Although I told you I am from another time and space, this is only half true. My civilization occupies the same space as yours, but on a different... channel, or frequency." The man seemed to search for words. "Think of the football game on the television that you are missing because of me. It is broadcast on one. Think of another program being broadcast on another network. This is the best correlation that I can offer."
"You mentioned space and time." Danny was riding with this, for now.
"Imagine the second program being run 600,000 years in the future. Same medium; different avenues at far different times."
"Are you saying that you are from a time 600,000 years ahead of us?"
"We are 596,348 years and 21 days behind you. Our civilization took far less time to advance than yours," Tom answered, dryly.
Danny had no idea where this conversation was going. He needed to keep Mr. Smith talking. "This is very interesting, but you're right. All of this does sound absurd, and why do you need to speak with an influential citizen?
"Our culture wishes to introduce itself to yours. You are probably not aware that yours and mine are the only two civilizations in existence."
Danny now decided, instincts or no instincts, to rid himself of the polite Mr. Smith as quickly as possible. However, the man did mention that he could prove himself. He would ask for proof, and then toss him out. "You said that you could prove yourself. I think now is a good time for you to do so."
Tom Smith grinned. "Can you hear me now?" He asked, only he didn't move his lips.
"Yes, but a good ventriloquist can do that," Danny answered.
"Can a good ventriloquist do this?" As he spoke, he disappeared from sight. "I am now invisible to you. People of my entity can travel across great distances in time and physical measure effortlessly. This, plus our ability to assume any shape and mass we find convenient, is the chief difference between us and you." Tom Smith became visible again. Still sitting in the big leather chair, he said, "Touch my arm. Do you feel it?"
Danny, a man used to having curves thrown to him by unusual people, still suspected an illusion of some kind. Tom Smith may be a pro. Maybe he was sent here to discredit me. More than one person walking around today would love to do that, he well knew. Cautiously, he touched Tom's elbow. "Yes, I feel your arm."
"Very well, remove it and when you do, I will be standing by the window."
Danny looked right into his guest's eyes as he removed his hand. Tom's eyes disappeared. As Danny blinked, Tom was already standing by the window. Tom said, "Now, I do not want to scare you. I would like to hold your hand with mine and, as I do, cause my hand to disappear. We will speak to one another and look at each other and you will be holding air where you were grasping my hand. Can you do this?"
Danny was frightened, and somewhat bewildered, but he was a salty old veteran who didn't rattle easily. He rose from his chair and met Tom at the window. Hell, he reasoned, if Nixon couldn't get the best of me, Tom Smith certainly will not. Looking Tom in the eye, he answered, "Okay, let's do it."
Tom smiled. "Very good, Danny, and I agree with you about Nixon. If you held your own with him, you have nothing to fear from me.
"I didn't think that out loud! Danny almost shouted.
"No, you didn't. You thought it. I can cause you to hear my thoughts and I can hear yours. Tom's lips did not move as he "said" this.
Ever the pro, a very rattled Danny said, "Well, let's shake hands."
Tom used a very soothing voice and told him, "Okay. Just remember that you will be holding air where you were holding my hand."
The men took each other's hand. Danny, a man's man who had shaken many a hand, considered Tom Smith's handshake a good one. Firm, but not too firm, and friendly. Tom smiled at Danny and gripped his hand tightly before it disappeared altogether. Danny looked down and Tom's right hand was missing. This time, Danny had a difficult time keeping his nerve. Having a man in his home whom could read thoughts, cause all or part of himself to disappear, and who claimed to be from 596,348 years and 21 days in the past on another TV station bothered him a great deal.
"One more thing, Danny, I'm going to put my right arm in front of you. Please touch my wrist." Danny did. There was no hand there, just a stub at the end of his wrist. "Thank you. Keep looking and don't blink. My hand will reappear-now!" As he said this, his hand reappeared and he gave Danny an affectionate pat on the shoulder.
Danny Mann had not, in his 64 years of existence, 44 of those going head to head with vicious criminals, psychopaths, crooked politicians and unusual, unpredictable people of all kinds (great newsmakers all), been unnerved as he now was. It had taken Tom Smith less than a half hour to do this to him. He had one thing on his mind now.
"Your thought concerning the bottle of bourbon is a good one," Tom Smith said, using spoken words so as not to agitate his host further. "May I join you?"
2.
Danny was feeling better after two stiff bourbon and sevens. The color returned to his cheeks and he was thinking clearly once again.
"May I call you Tom?
"I wish you would. I'm sorry that I had to do what I did, but you have to understand that I am who I say I am."
"So I'm in the presence of an alien who can cross time and space in ease. Now what?"
The men had retired to the living room. Though slightly smaller than the study, the decor was done in lighter colors and the ceiling was higher, giving it an airiness and brightness that the dark paneled study lacked. Danny was much in need of airiness and brightness right now.
"As I said earlier, we wish to introduce ourselves to your people."
"You think I can help with this? How? Wouldn't it be better to contact government officials?"
Tom laughed. "Take me to your leader! You must be and old film aficionado."
Danny laughed also. That remark was a bit ridiculous. He, more than anyone else, should understand the futility of dealing with the government. The laugh eased his mood but he knew he shouldn't let his guard down too much. He allowed himself a generous portion of bourbon only because he could handle it well. "Yeah, I guess that's not a good idea, but what's the purpose of wanting to meet us? You are far advanced. We are not. What do you want? You seem to know all about us anyway." It took no small amount of courage to ask that question.
"We don't want to overtake you, so you can rest easy about that." Danny didn't know why, but he believed him. "We want to study the human race. You have something in your character that we lack."
"What?"
"Unpredictability."
"Unpredictability!" Danny was dumbfounded. In the movies, Man's evil nature was usually the culprit. "What do you want to know about unpredictability?"
"Please remember I come from a species that can move about freely through both time and distance. We have no need for food, shelter, or creature comforts. Our existence is far different from yours. In my world, there are no questions about anything because we literally know all of the answers. By being able to go anywhere and do anything, there are no mysteries in our experience. The confusion and chaos of your world fascinates us. It is true we know a great deal about you; indeed, in most respects, we know you better than you know yourselves. Still, we would like to intermingle with you, not only observe you from afar. We feel we will never understand your irrational behavior until we do so."
If nothing else, Mr. Tom Smith was one hell of a talker. Danny was beginning to feel disoriented again and wondered aloud if Tom Smith could be trusted.
"Again, if we wanted to destroy you, we would have done so long ago. Given the fact that you do not possess the powers our people do, your caution is wise and justified.
Understand also that we can be of great assistance to mankind. For example, we can easily correct the myriad of inconsistencies in your recorded history."
Tom Smith's soothing demeanor again calmed his host and this last statement interested Danny Mann, ever the accurate newsman, greatly. "How can you do that? Can you teach us to time travel?"
"No. It is not possible for your species to ever do that. But, your researchers should, by all means, keep working on it. They will learn many useful things by accident while doing so."
"So how can you assist us?"
The television was still on in the living room with the sound turned down. Tom asked, "May I borrow your television for a moment?"
"Of course," a perplexed Danny replied.
Out of consideration for Danny's frayed nerves, Tom walked normally to the TV set. "I believe you have a blank tape in your video recorder, placed there by you the day before yesterday. May I use it?"
Danny didn't bother to wonder how he knew this. He simply nodded his head.
"Thank you." Danny continued to be impressed by Tom Smith's comfortable formality.
"I'm going to record something that you will be most interested in." As he said this, Tom took the VCR antenna lead in his right hand, the one that he had caused to disappear and reappear at will, and turned on the VCR to RECORD. What Danny saw appear on his TV screen was the most amazing thing yet in a night of amazing experiences.
Tom Smith knew Danny was a student of the American civil war, fought some 130 years ago, and was considered an expert on the subject. (He had written professionally about it). What he was recording for his host was General Lee's surrender to General Grant. It was just as if a reporter with a mini cam was standing in the Appomattox Court House on April 9, 1865. Tom knew that Danny, though impressed, was still skeptical.
Tom finished the taping. Danny viewed the whole thing without looking up once. "I'm going to show you something else, Danny. After this, we will continue tomorrow. I think you have enough to go to bed with tonight. Do you remember your ninth birthday party?"
Did he ever. He remembered it because it was the last birthday of his that his mother, Virginia Mann, was there for. In fact, it was just about the last occasion of any kind that Virginia Mann was able to enjoy. Three days after her son's birthday, she lay dead of a massive stroke. What Danny now saw on his TV screen was almost too much for him to bear. He saw himself as a pudgy nine year old standing over the big chocolate birthday cake his mother had baked for him, preparing to blow out the candles after his friends got through singing Happy Birthday. No pictures remained of that long ago day, celebrated over 55 years ago, certainly no videotape of the occasion. The sights and sounds coming from the screen overtook him. He began to weep, something Danny Mann rarely did.
Tom quietly quit recording and turned off the VCR and TV set. Gently, he said, "Until now, there was doubt in your mind. You are now convinced that I am legitimate." This was a statement, not a question. "Danny, I will leave now and see you when I am sure you are ready to visit some more. Will you be OK?" Tom knew he would be, but wanted to show his concern.
"Yes," Danny replied, somewhat shakily.
Tom smiled, "See you later, then."
"Yeah, later." With that, Tom Smith walked to the front door and exited, the normal, human way by opening the door and walking through it.
3.
Danny woke the next morning rested and refreshed. He was pleasantly surprised he was able to sleep as soundly as he did. Perhaps killing the bottle of bourbon after his strange guest left had something to do with that. After his usual breakfast of toast and coffee, followed by his morning shower and shave, he was ready to consider the bizarre events of last night.
Danny Mann was at the exalted stage of his profession that earned him the right to set his own hours and work at home when he wished. His radio network provided him an office here in Kansas City, but he did much of his work at home when not on the road. Danny was a very well known public personality, having made a name for him self in radio, television, and print journalism. Tom Smith was right. Danny Mann was a much respected and trusted old-time newsman with a loyal following.
So after showering and dressing, Danny stepped into his comfortable study and considered himself "at work." This morning's business was all-important. What to do about Tom Smith?
It was still hard for him to believe that last night was not just a dream. Maybe he was getting too old to drink a near-full bottle of Jack without suffering for it, but he knew last night was no bad dream. Tom Smith left the videotape in the VCR. Danny decided to watch it again.
Walking into the living room and turning on the television with some apprehension, Danny rewound the tape and pressed the PLAY button. Generals Grant and Lee were seated across from each other. Both men certainly looked like they had been through a long war, (Danny noted the mud on General Grant's uniform). He wished Tom had allowed a look at Traveler, General Lee's horse. He could tell that this was no TV or feature film, nor was it a documentary. It was just too...authentic. Hell, he thought, if it's real then it certainly is authentic. What else would it be? He was amused at his own thought.
When the surrender footage finished, which was extraordinary because Tom taped the whole ceremony, from the time the generals entered the Courthouse until the time they left, Danny braced himself to watch his birthday party. Both eagerly anticipating and dreading viewing it again, soon he was absorbed in it totally, his emotions taking him back through the years. Tom included a generous amount of footage of his mother. Danny couldn't help weeping. He loved his mother so and she was taken from him not a week after this party ended. Tom Smith, the thoughtful man from who-knows-where, had taped his mother at different intervals during the party. From cutting the cake to standing by herself in the corner, watching her son enjoy the nine-year old limelight. Finally, the taped party ended and there was only snow on the TV screen. Danny didn't remember Tom taping the surrender at Appomattox and his birthday party in their entireties, but last night did seem a bit of a blur to him now.
This taping of his party, more than anything else Tom said or did, convinced him of his legitimacy, for Danny remembered this party well and there had been no one there filming. Filming a child's birthday party in the 1930's was a rare thing, something only the very wealthy did. Danny's mother was hardly that, he thought bitterly. Spending the rest his childhood in a Methodist orphanage after a parent's death was not something a rich boy would have done.
So Danny was convinced that Tom Smith was an "alien." Funny, he didn't really equate that term with Tom. Alien, to his way of thinking, meant different and menacing. Tom was certainly different but not menacing. Lighting a cigar, he realized Tom went to great pains to prove who he was without scaring him to death.
It occurred to Danny that Tom and his fellow "citizens" could easily take over this world whenever they wished, as Tom stated last night. Why bother courting me if your goal is forceful domination, he wondered? Not a trusting person by nature, Danny kept looking for reasons to doubt Tom Smith. He could find none.
Tom Smith stated he would return when he was certain I could handle it, Danny remembered. After sleeping on it and weighing all of the pros and cons until lunchtime, Danny, over a simple lunch of chicken noodle soup and crackers, decided to trust Tom Smith, or whatever his real name is. When he saw Tom again, he would volunteer his assistance in introducing him to humankind. He would also try to talk him out of it.
4.
Friday morning arrived and Tom Smith had not reappeared, which surprised Danny somewhat. He expected him back again by now. But he hadn't returned and Danny once again wondered if wasn't getting a little too old to be drinking so much.
He worked at home all week. More and more he preferred to do his office work in the comfort of his own home. Also, this week he was hoping for Tom Smith to come see him again. He got his wish in the middle of the afternoon.
Danny was at his desk drinking a coke and reading the morning newspaper around 2:00 PM when the doorbell rang. He knew who it was before he heard Tom's "voice" from outside.
"Hello Danny," he heard Tom say at the same instant the bell rang. He realized that he had not heard anything. It was Tom's telepathy. Never in the twenty plus years that he lived here had he ever been able to hear anyone speak from the front porch with the door closed.
"Tom?" Danny wondered aloud.
"Yes, may I enter?"
"Sure. Don't suppose I could stop you," Danny replied, matter-of-factly.
"I wouldn't want to intrude if not wanted," Tom said, seriously, as he appeared in front of him, sitting in the big leather visitor's chair.
"Of course you're welcome. If you can read minds then you know that already." Tom smiled a friendly smile as Danny said this.
"Of course, you are right. You have decided to assist us." It was Tom's turn to be nonchalant.
"Yes, I have, but I don't know exactly how to go about it.
"I realize that, but I believe that a person such as you can figure out a way. If helping us is still the goal."
Danny hesitated before answering. "Have you read my thoughts this week?"
"No. I wanted to respect your privacy, plus I found out something that disturbs me a great deal. I find that associating with human beings subjects me to human temptations."
"Associating with me does this?" Danny asked, concern showing in his voice.
"No, not you, really. I have been mixing with humans all week, incognito, of course. I find myself developing the same fears and weaknesses as you. Dancing too close to the flame, as you would put it."
Danny hesitated again. "Tom, I believe what you have shown and told me. I want to help you. I will find a way to introduce you to my people if you wish, but you must know by now, if you didn't before, that it will frighten most of them greatly. I don't think you'll receive a warm welcome."
Tom thought a moment before replying. "I think you are right. Observing you for thousands of years from afar did not teach me what being here one week as a secret visitor did."
"I'm glad you didn't read my mind and try to influence my thoughts. Only the last couple of days have I been able to think this through."
"I know."
"Still want a public introduction?"
"No. Your people aren't ready. Don't be offended but I have learned that humans do not recognize the truth about things well and cannot think things through properly."
Danny Mann, the veteran reporter, chuckled. "You're familiar with the Christian religion?"
"Yes, a sad and excellent example." Tom Smith had not realized until now how introspective his new friend was. He realized also that his civilization harbored many misconceptions about these people. Misconceptions that could prove to be dangerous should the two societies begin to interrelate. Perhaps our cultures are not so much different after all, he thought to himself, and perhaps we do not know everything. Tom smiled at Danny and reached across the desk to take hold of his hand, "I think that it would be wise to leave things as they are. You won't see me again. I believe I should go. Good-bye, Danny."
Danny felt a warm squeeze before feeling nothing. Tom was gone.
5.
Danny spent all of the next week at the office downtown. He was in no mood to be alone just now. In his time he sat on many a story for one reason or another, but never one like this and none of them permanently.
Only after he was gone sometime did Danny realize the only tangible evidence he had of Tom Smith's existence was the tape, and he realized no one but he would ever recognize it for what it was. To anyone else it would be just another videotape. Only in retrospect did he realize just what an act of friendship the tape represented.
Tom Smith knew well what the two tapings would mean to Danny. Danny would not view the tape very often as it was always an emotional experience for him to do so, for more reasons than one. The original tape he kept in a safe deposit box. He kept a duplicate in his study for viewing. He was tempted from time to time to record his experiences with Tom Smith and place them in the safe deposit box with the tape, but he never did so. He did not want to break the trust with Tom.
It would be easy for him to think this was all a dream. It certainly seemed like one, particularly as the weeks and months passed by. Tom said good-bye as quickly and unexpectedly as he had said hello. Normally not a sentimental man, Danny wished their last conversation could have lasted longer. He knew, though, that drawn out good-byes were neither his style nor Tom's. Still, he had spent so little time with the remarkable Tom Smith over the course of two short visits.
But how extraordinary those visits were.