Emergence
(Here Comes Earth - 1)
by William Lee Gordon
Dedication
This work is dedicated to the love of my life, my wife Consuelo.
17 years ago in a beautiful mountain valley just outside of Cali, Colombia we held our wedding reception for extended family, friends, and anyone else that happened to wonder by.
I was the American stealing the local princess away from her family, friends and culture. As was tradition, I made a speech to her in front of everyone, in a second language that I am far from perfect in, with only my sincerity and heart able to win the day.
What follows are the words I have never regretted and that are truer today than ever before…
Consuelo,
Every good man has dreams for his future. In my life I have had many trials and tribulations in my quest to pursue my dreams. Each defeat has made me stronger and each victory has been well earned.
My vision for the future is very strong.
I have worked hard to build financial security for a wife and children. I have worked hard to earn social positions of respect and integrity that my family would deserve. The hardest work I have done, however, has been on myself; to mature and learn and grow so that I can be the best husband and father that I can be. To learn patience, to earn wisdom, to learn respect, to conquer fear. The woman of my dreams would deserve no less.
There are some people that do not understand why I would travel this far to pay court to you. They do not realize that traveling around the world is the easiest thing I have done to be worthy of you.
Now that I have found you, I thank God for saving you for me.
And now that my prayers are answered, I find that my dreams are only beginning.
I love you Consuelo.
Chapter 1
Dr. Mark Spencer
It’s not the cleavage that distracts a man; it’s the movement. It’s the total lack of self-consciousness or guile when leaning over a table, climbing onto a barstool, or laying out in the sun. Depending on who you talk to, they say that Latin women are the most beautiful in the world and I certainly wouldn’t argue. There’s something about a bikini clad, brown skinned beauty holding your gaze; it’s almost as if her wide smile is daring you to break eye contact and roam southwards. To succumb to that temptation or not, that is the question that for many a man has determined the course of the next few hours, week, or lifetime.
My name is Dr. Marquis Spencer; Mark to my friends and everyone else except the Federal government. I am (was) by vocation an up-and-coming history professor; already published, complete with two other PhDs (anthropology and sociology) and other assorted credentials - credentials that up until about fourteen months ago I was very proud of. I truly believed that I knew more about the history of mankind than 99% of anyone that had ever lived.
I knew as well as anyone on the planet then, the fate of less advanced cultures being confronted by those that were vastly superior. There’s only one winner and the guy trembling in his boots witnessing magic ain’t it. Like Native Americans or the Aborigines of Australia or the Incas of Peru, I’d studied and helped document civilization after civilization that collapsed after being exposed to a superior culture. Who could blame me then for being one of the first to realize our fate?
You see, on one gorgeous October evening everything changed. That’s the day everyone on the planet learned that we’re not alone.
It shouldn’t be surprising then that I eventually took a leave of absence to spend a few months soul searching, mojito drinking, and brown body chasing—just to get my perspective back. I wasn’t really sure if it was working but then I wasn’t all that concerned about it. I figured I’d find balance sooner or later or die trying … and after all, it wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.
It was a Monday or Tuesday—or maybe a Thursday?—when she first approached me. This in and of itself wasn’t unheard of. I’m a reasonably attractive man. At exactly 6 ft. I’m not too tall and my body type is what some people call Vatta—more of a swimmer’s build than a bodybuilder. It’s not that I don’t work out (when I remember or have time), it’s just that I’m naturally a low body fat kind of guy and it’s not totally unheard of for a woman to decide she wants to know me better. That is how it happens, you know. This entire machismo charade about guys picking up girls by wooing them with candy, flowers, great restaurants and shows is straight out of the movies. Men have only one option when it comes to the mating game; we can make our presence known. That’s it. All other decisions lie in the hands of the woman; if, what type, and how long any potential relationship might last is totally at their discretion from that point on. A colleague of mine in the Sociology Department once explained to me that this is the historical root cause for all sports—for men to get themselves noticed by women. Judging from the lifestyle of several pro athletes I’ve known I’d say it’s still working.
Anyway, it wasn’t totally unheard of for a woman to place herself in my path in order to size me up a little better. It was a little unusual for it to happen so early in the morning, and it was downright strange for her to be feeling my pulse and gazing deeply into my eye while she held my eyelid up with the ball of her thumb. I’ll admit I was having trouble deciphering the sweet little nothings that lovers so often whisper into each other’s ear as my lightning sharp intellect was coming around to the conclusion that I’d never seen this woman before. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t even brown skinned and the sweet little nothings turned out to be phrases like, “it’s just a hangover.”
Instinctually knowing that I had a narrowing window to make a good first impression, I said the most intelligent thing I could think of, “Where am I?”
“Beach cabanas in this part of the world tend to be oversized outdoor beds with no walls and thatched roofs,” I explained. There was certainly nothing undignified about sleeping through the night in one. As I contemplated the more problematic aspects of not having been able to find my clothes, or the fact that mine wasn’t the only naked body passed out in the cabana, I cleverly steered the conversation onto more dignified ground.
“Besides,” I said. “It’s quite common in Costa Rica.”
“We found you in Puerto Rico.”
“Whatever.”
In my defense it was quite disconcerting to be having this conversation at an altitude of 20,000 ft. from the cabin of what I deduced to be a Gulfstream IIX, wearing only borrowed coveralls (no underwear) and no shoes, speaking to whom I was belatedly realizing was a very attractive blonde haired blue eyed government official.
I’ve always had a keen ability to size up a situation and if there was ever a time to go on the offensive this was it. I said, “Ok miss CIA, NSA, HS, or whatever other spook agency you work for, I think it’s about time you told me what’s going on. It’s been some time since we discovered that we’re not alone in the universe and I can’t imagine a bigger crisis than that but apparently we’re in it. The government doesn’t send out a top agent in one of its VIP Gulfstreams to abduct a trained specialist unless there is an immediate and urgent need, and although I admit that I can’t quite imagine why you would need my particular specialty it’s obvious that you’re willing to go to great lengths to get me. So why do you need me and why am I so valuable?”