Excerpts from the tv interview appeared on every broadcast, sometimes exhaustively analyzed by hastily engaged “experts.” Magazines and newspapers competed to see who could put out the most special editions. A repeat television appearance, if it could be arranged, would certainly be the most viewed broadcast in the history of the medium.
Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal handled all of it gracefully. All those years of contact with Chad and Mindy, of monitoring television transmissions, had served the Quozl well. Not only could they respond smoothly to any question, their English was superior to that of the majority of their interviewers.
These consisted largely of government specialists. Chad and Mindy were subjected to their share. As Arlo was new to contact and hardly knew the Quozl, he was largely left alone, which gave him plenty of time to make and sign deals.
Within two weeks the colony was wealthier, at least on paper, than any enclave in the United States.
As soon as one cluster of investigators concluded their work another arrived to take its place. The President made it on day four, shaking hands all around while a compact boom-box hastily blared “Hail to the Chief” in the background for the benefit of a carefully screened group of reporters. Showing that he’d done his homework he even made an attempt at the traditional Quozl greeting. Seams-with-Metal gently showed him the correct way to place his fingers.
It made for terrific television.
Chad took his turn somewhat dazedly, though it was evident the President’s smile was not for him or his sister but for the visitors.
“Interesting, shaking hands with someone who has seven fingers,” he said jovially to Runs-red-Talking.
“Interesting,” the Quozl replied, “shaking hands with someone whose hands are furless.”
The President laughed heartily, a familiar, reassuring laugh. “I haven’t as much time as I’d like. I have other things to do. I just wanted to tell you that on behalf of the American people you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want, that as a free country with a tradition of accepting refugees regardless of race, creed, color, or point of origin you are welcome to apply to become citizens like anyone else.”
“They’re not refugees, Mr. President,” an aide whispered, but the President ignored him. He was in his element, the camera lights intense on all sides, and thoroughly enjoying himself.
“In fact, I intend to suggest that a bill be entered in Congress to waive the usual waiting period so that you may apply immediately for American citizenship.”
“Wait a minute. They aren’t sure they want to stay here. They might want to move now that they don’t have to hide themselves anymore.”
The instant Chad spoke, it struck him that he was admonishing the President of the United States and that as a third-string research biologist for a mid-range biotechnology firm he might be somewhat overstepping his bounds.
Arlo winked at him, which helped a little.
“Well, I am sure, Chad,” the President replied without sacrificing one scintilla of that brilliant smile, “that our new friends will examine all the alternatives carefully before making any final decisions. I merely wanted to let them know how welcome they are.” He turned back to the Quozl. “You do like it here, don’t you?”
“Yes,” said Runs politely. “I understand that there are also some pleasantly cool empty regions in your neighboring tribe the Soviet Union.”
Chad turned pale, but that was nothing compared to the reaction among several of the President’s aides. Then he noticed the position of the Quozl’s ears.
“Just kidding, Mr. President. Did not anyone inform you that we Quozl have a well-developed sense of humor?”
Color returned to the President’s face. Someone laughed nervously. It spread, and even the Chief Executive was not immune. Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal looked on quietly, observing.
“I didn’t have time for more than a quick briefing.” The President wiped at his eyes. “We’re certainly in for some interesting days ahead, aren’t we?”
“I hope so,” said Runs. “Several of our Burrow Masters would very much like to meet with you.”
“Ah yes, your colony leaders. That much I was told. Amazing how you manage to keep in touch with them with that tiny communicator of yours. But we can talk about such things another time.
“Meanwhile surely there must be something we can do to make you feel more comfortable.”
“Our thanks to you, Honored Elder,” Seams replied, “but right now we are doing well enough and require nothing special in the way of assistance.”
“But the process that will lead to the establishment of a Department for Quozl Affairs is already in motion. Preliminary funding has been approved by both Houses. Surely you could use just a billion or two?”
Both of Runs’s ears dipped forward. “Your thoughtfulness is greatly appreciated, Mr. President, but we really are able to manage on our own. Hopefully in the future we can take advantage of your generosity of spirit. We do not wish to become a burden to your people.”
The Chief Executive was mollified. What charming little folk, he mused.
One of the men standing close to him addressed the silence. “By the way, you haven’t been too clear as to your exact numbers.” Chad recognized the Secretary of State. Or maybe it was Interior; he wasn’t sure. “Are there several dozen of you here? Several hundred?”
This time Runs looked not to Seams-with-Metal for advice but to Chad, who shrugged tiredly. “You can’t hide anything much longer, Runs.”
The Quozl bent an ear toward the official who’d posed the question. “As of last counting the Burrows were home to approximately sixty-three thousand, four hundred and twelve Quozl, including infants in pouch.”
A stunned silence settled over the room. Chad wasn’t immune to the effects of the pronouncement. Come to think of it, he never had asked Runs just how many Quozl there were in the colony.
“That many.” The Secretary’s mind was churning. “And all underground.”
“We have managed adequately,” Seams-with-Metal commented.
“I should say so. My, my.” The President did not look as shocked as his aides. Perhaps, Chad mused, he was thinking of future Quozl votes. After all, if they became full-fledged citizens … It was not beyond the realm of possibility. At this point, nothing was beyond the realm of possibility.
He recalled times when Runs-red-Talking had spoken of the rigorous Quozl approach to population control. If such control resulted in an underground population of sixty-three thousand, what would happen when such controls were removed?
“We hope to call on you for assistance in the future,” Seams was saying, “and to offer what little we can in return.” It was no more than typical Quozl politeness, but it clearly pleased the President. So did her next words.
“One thing only we would request.”
The Chief Executive was completely relaxed now. Someone was asking him for something. “Just tell me how I can be of assistance.”
“We do not wish to be restricted to this one small burrow. We want to be able to move about freely, to go where we wish. It is vital to our health.”
Chad listened to the bold-faced lie and fought to control his expression. He couldn’t help but wonder if the Quozl had decided to present their request in this fashion or if they’d been coached by the ever-prescient Arlo.
“Naturally we don’t wish to jeopardize your well-being in any way.” The President was at his paternal best. “You will be allowed to go wherever you wish—militarily sensitive installations excepted, of course.” An inadvertent moan rose from one corner of the room, from the vicinity of assistant head of the National Security Agency. The President took note of it and smoothly modified his response.
“I hope you won’t think it forward of us to insist that you have an escort with you wherever you travel, to prevent you from being mobbed by adoring citizens. There exists in this country a real danger of people becoming too friendly—and though
it pains me to say so, there are also those who might pose a danger to you simply because you are presently the object of much public attention. This is something I am familiar with firsthand. So you require protection for two reasons.”
“Are we already so accepted, then?”
“It all happened so fast.” The President smiled down at Seams. “If I may say so, you are not what many people expected in the way of visitors from another world.”
“What did they expect?”
The President looked thoughtful. “Something less—attractive. People are not only surprised by your appearance; they are also pleased.”
Arlo had been right all along, Chad thought. Now they couldn’t be spirited off to some dungeon for interrogation and vivisection. Not after having been on tv nationwide, not after having given dozens of interviews, and especially not after the President himself had just guaranteed their right to travel when and where they wished—albeit under escort. Wide exposure was the strongest armor.
When they learned of the Quozl, other governments protested vigorously at what they perceived to be an American monopoly on alien contact. The State Department replied ingenuously that they had nothing to do with the Quozl selection of a homesite. This muted but did not halt the complaints.
Meanwhile Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal traveled as inconspicuously as possible around the greater Los Angeles area, observing, studying, recording, relaying information to the Burrows, and shaking hands with astonished adults and delighted children. Watching the reactions of humans to Quozl, Chad was convinced not only that the Quozl were going to be accepted by the populace at large, within a few years they were going to be able to run for public office.
So it was somewhat of a surprise when their presence was finally challenged. Not even the President could alter certain laws by executive fiat. The challenge would have to be met through the proper channels, like any other objection to the law.
The source was a small fringe group with questionable policies but plenty of money. They had the reluctant backing of several small reputable scientific organizations.
What they said was that it was scientifically and morally unconscionable to allow sixty-three thousand unstudied, unexamined aliens unrestricted access to the rest of the planet. There was sotto voce talk of communicable diseases. The protesters insisted that if nothing else, each Quozl be individually examined and passed before being allowed onto the surface. In addition they proposed restricting the Quozl to a proscribed reservation where they could be observed and monitored.
In short, they requested everything Chad and Runs had feared from the beginning.
The President’s good intentions notwithstanding, the Quozl basically had no rights.
The controversy did not slow the financial tidal wave that swelled the coffers of the corporation Arlo had established in the colony’s name. Everything was cleared with the Burrow Masters and Arlo left to take care of the details. Meanwhile government technicians were still trying to locate the site of the colony. They kept digging fruitlessly around the Collins’s vacation cabin. Chad knew they would stumble across the Burrows eventually, but for now the Quozl were grateful for the delay.
It would be much better, he decided, to settle this first serious controversy before the colony was located.
They were actually going to have to appear in court. The whole thing was ludicrous, which was entirely in keeping with the basis of contemporary American jurisprudence. The government attorney brought in to assist them was sympathetic and helpful. A shame, this business, she told them, but something they were going to have to go through with. A formality. Chad wasn’t so sure, Arlo less so.
“I know it looks absurd,” she was telling them. “The media are having a field day with it. But short of the President declaring a national state of emergency, we’re going to have to follow the law. I can’t tell you how embarrassing this is for the Administration.” She looked curiously across the room at Runs and Seams.
“I’m afraid a declaration of good intentions isn’t sufficient to contravene recognized scientific method. The Quozl are going to have to prove some things.”
The Soviets immediately offered the Quozl unconditional asylum. After consulting with the Council of Elders, Runs and Seams graciously turned them down. They would happily sit in court to prove themselves to any and all human skeptics.
The group which wished to see the Quozl’s movements and activities restricted engaged some impressive legal talent. Thoughtful scientists found themselves locked in uneasy alliance with xenophobes and pseudo-Luddites.
As he sat in the hearing chamber listening to the opposition propound its arguments, Chad saw visions of barbed-wire enclosure surmounted by gun towers and mines.
The government attorney was rebutting eloquently. “Is this any way to treat harmless visitors cast helpless upon our shores? You have heard their story. They did not expect this world to be inhabited. Instead they discovered us, we garrulous, quarrelsome humans. They cannot go elsewhere. They wish only to remain and be good neighbors and friends.”
Everything you say may be true, the opposition subsequently conceded, but none of it was provable. As to the true nature of Quozl intentions and Quozl purposes there was only the word of the Quozl themselves. That, and the testimony of two young adults untrained in observation and analysis.
Runs-red-Talking and Seams-with-Metal listened to the debate silently, occasionally taking time to retire to a private cubicle. Ostensibly they were contacting their superiors for advice, when Chad knew they spent more than half the time copulating. In deference to the peculiar sensibilities of the American public, neither he nor the Quozl chose to mention this particular Quozl need.
In their concluding argument the opposition pointed out that the Quozl had entered the country, as it were, illegally, which observation drew more than a few guffaws and comments about “illegal alien” jokes from the resident media. That particular objection was overcome the following day when the President signed a hastily composed directive permitting unrestricted immigration from any location greater than five hundred thousand miles from existing U.S. borders.
The opposition then argued that if the Quozl were allowed to spread freely throughout the country, they would surely become a burden on an already straining welfare system. The government attorney countered with income figures supplied by Arlo which proved that per capita the Quozl were already the wealthiest minority in the country. They could support themselves quite nicely without any assistance from the government, thank you. Among the more visible contracts Arlo had secured for them was one with Weyerhaeuser and another with Georgia-Pacific. The two forest-products giants had engaged the services of the Quozl based on assurances from Runs-red-Talking that tree-farm output could be tripled with a little instinctive Quozl input. Nor was that the only area of forestry in which they proved themselves useful.
Quozl began to appear on posters alongside flat-hatted, shovel-wielding bears.
The opposition could see which way the hurricane was blowing, but hewed to their position against mounting odds. They held one card the government had not yet been able to trump: there was still no proof that humans and Quozl could exist safely side by side without harm to old ladies and little kids. Until such time as proof could be provided, caution dictated restricting the visitors to their present area of habitation, with severe restraints on their movements. It did no good to point out that Chad and Runs-red-Talking had been friends for fourteen years. One twosome did not a society make.
The government attorney committed a grievous blunder by admitting that the Quozl were reasonably happy where they were. The opposition pounced immediately. In that event, why not leave them where they were until such time as safeguards could be ensured? What harm could there be in exercising a little caution? Study and analyze first, and then if everything turned out as everyone hoped it would, all fine and good.
This argument struck many as eminently reasonable, and the opposition
found itself blessed with new friends and support. If the Quozl truly intended to be good neighbors, why would they object to such a policy? Where lay the harm?
It lay, Chad knew, in the possibility that the government and the public might grow comfortable with the status quo.
The simple “formalities” droned on week upon week, until the weeks turned into months. The Quozl’s initial novelty was wearing thin as the public accepted their presence and turned its attention to news of greater immediacy. Indifference strengthened the opposition. Something had to be done, and quickly.
It manifested itself in the expression the government attorney wore as she entered the hearing room one smoggy morning. Her makeup looked especially fresh and her face was devoid of the usual strain. In response to Chad’s inquiry she merely smiled and directed him to sit back, relax, and watch.
Neither Arlo nor Mindy was present today. Of the Quozl, it was Runs’s turn to be present for consultation. Seams was talking on the communicator.
When the government attorney called another witness forward no one took particular notice. The formalities had seen hundreds of experts in every field called by both sides to press conflicting claims.
The elderly woman who strode to the front of the room was dressed plainly. Her back was straight and her hair short. Runs was suddenly alert, sniffling the air. Chad eyed his friend uncertainly, unable to detect anything out of the ordinary himself.
“You have known the individuals in question for how long?” the attorney was asking the woman. Chad began to suspect when she announced her place of residence, but said nothing, hardly daring to breathe. By now Runs was on his feet, every sense alert and searching.
“And what do you think of your old friends?” the attorney inquired.
“Best friends I ever had. Ornery, just like my Willie and me. Don’t know what I would’ve done without ’em after Will passed on. That’s rough country up there. A tough place for an old woman to make a living.”
“Would you say, Mrs. Greenley, that you’ve had any problems with your friends in all the years they’ve been living with you?”