The Man From Mars - Episode One

   "Being a journalist, you would think I am immune to the rhetoric of someone who can tell a really good, unbelievable story. Yet the way he told it, he was very convincing. I could see that he truly believed in what he was telling me."
   "OK, Mister Johnson, what exactly do you want me to find out about this piece?"
   "Carbon date it and an alloy analysis."
   "With today's technology, you won't have to wait a month or even weeks anymore for the results. I'll be able to scan the alloy components without cutting a piece off and the dating will be complete in about ten minutes."
   "Thanks."
   I have waited longer for an informant to show up at a clandestine location and felt more relaxed then I do now. Waiting fifteen minutes for the results is driving me insane. I bet it hasn't even been five minutes yet. 
   "Have you ever seen anything like this amulet or the engravings on it?"
   "No I haven't. The engravings look like some of those old crop circles that used to pop up one-hundred years ago. The amulet itself, I cannot see it being older then a hundred years either. It looks like its brand new and when someone brings in a piece from antiquity, you can see the aging with the naked eye."
   "Maybe I have been duped, but I still have to have some answers. If I don't, I'll have this little grain of doubt in the back of my mind, and I will always be wondering if his story was true or not."
   "Why don't you tell me about this fellow you got the amulet from. It won't distract me from my work or slow me down, and I can see how impatient you are right now. Maybe it will help pass the time faster for you."
   I jumped at the chance. I've been waiting all day to tell someone.

   "I met this old man when I walked into Harry's Bar in downtown New York. He was sitting on the very end, where it curves around, blocking that end to any access where the bartenders work. As it so happens, the only open chair along side the bar, unless I wanted a table by myself, was right next to this guy. After looking him up and down, I started asking myself, why would this fellow be drinking at a place like Harry's in the first place."
   "Even for an old guy his skin was wrinkle free. His hair was a perfect grey throughout. He was impeccably dressed. And I'm sure it was an Armani suit he had on."
   "He had gold cuff-links, a diamond tie clasp, and what I thought was really classy to have these days, a silk embroidered handkerchief in his left top pocket. Really old school, you know."
   "Sounds like he was well to do." Said the lab technician.
   "I've been a New York reporter for over twenty years and you get to know the movers and shakers. But I've never once seen this guy around town. So I profiled him as a foreign diplomat or some rich guy from abroad on vacation or business."
   "Is profiling something you often do when you meet someone?" Interrupted the technician.
   "Are you kidding me? Everyone does it on a daily basis. I'm sure you did it when I came in here."
   My tone must have told the lab tech to keep his thoughts to himself, because for the next few minutes, he didn't say a word. He just listened.
   "You know, I never got his name. I would ask occasionally, during our conversation, so I would know how to address him, but he would smile, telling me he would, when the time was right, let me know. Then he would go into another story about where he is from, his people, or how sorry he was that he personally brought a virus to this World, from his home."
   The tech looks at me with astonishment, probably wondering if I carried this virus the old man was talking about. So I told him why I felt he had nothing to worry about.
   "You have to understand. When he first started telling his stories, they sounded so outlandish, I figured this guy was a complete lunatic. If it wasn't the last seat at the bar, I probably would have moved away. But, he is the kind of guy, who can really tell a story and tell it good. You get involved in it. It wasn't until the last story that he told, before I started really to believe he was telling me the truth."
   The tech was still shaking his head, probably thinking I was the lunatic right about then, but he still asked, "How do you know he wasn't telling the truth about where he is from or that he he is carrying a virus?"
   "Well?" I said. "Because, the first thing he told me was, that he was my real father and that he was from the planet Atlantis. What we call Mars today!"

To Be Continued...

Next Thursday.

This is,

Just Like A Weekly Television Show

And That Last Sentence Is My Cliff Hanger To Bring You Back For More,

Jim Hauenstein,

And,

“Mars tugs at the human imagination like no other planet. With a force mightier than gravity, it attracts the eye to the shimmering red presence in the clear night sky...”
- John Noble Wilford -

That is my story and I am sticking to it!

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