Galaxy of Stars - 1/5

Vincent Madsby was having a curious kind of trouble beginning the letter he was trying to write. This letter had a lot riding on it, it had a lot to convey, a tightrope to walk. This letter would accompany his suicide - so he decided it had to be important. But now it was just starting to become another one of his many problems.

Madsby sat at the kitchen table in his one bedroom apartment in a downtown neighborhood in a major American city. His building was old, but it was in good shape, and he liked the management. That was the most important part of renting, wasn’t it? To find a building with a good super? At least he’d accomplished that much in his life.

Sitting above the blank sheet of paper, Madsby struggled to compile his other accomplishments. He lived alone, with no prospects or distant loves. There had been someone, once, but it didn’t work out. Wasn’t she really right about that though? That wasn’t what brought him there that day. Or maybe it was a part of it. Or maybe it was all of it, depending on what he told himself.

Parents already gone; a distant extended family; he never had any children, and he never had any siblings. It had been fine. Or maybe it hadn’t. Depending on what he told himself.

At this moment, the facts had deserted him; his letter had no beginning, and his life had no end.

Madsby thought this through as he replayed the process of his upcoming suicide for the umpteenth time in his head. He’d searched the internet to find something that wasn’t so unwieldy as taking fifty pills, but he guessed big pharma hasn’t been able to market the suicide drug yet. Probably taking forever to clear FDA testing.

He began his letter: “To All Living Citizens of Earth,

“I part you now with disdain for your remnants, and joy for my own absence. I do not want anyone to think I’ve lived a full life, but at fifty three years old, I’ve seen enough to know that nothing is going to change my feelings on the way this society is headed.

“I name you a cruel world, after all you’ve treated me no other way. I spent my career working in professional politics. I lived in Washington DC and reported to the State Department every day, I served my country and my party. When scandal struck, the wheel of power turned and I was out of a job. All my loyalties were worthless.

“A career in the skids, and a world turning deeper into disgrace by the day. No connection, except through my miserable experience. What kind of cold society do we --”

Just then, Madsby heard a knock at the door.

It startled him, he never had visitors. Was he expecting a package? No, of course not, he wasn’t expecting anything at all beyond today. It was ten thirty in the morning. It was a Saturday. Suicide had felt to Madsby like a weekend activity.

Pushing his letter aside, Madsby strode to the door, only handful of steps, and opened it to the modest face standing nervously right outside. “Hi, sorry to bother you. I’m your neighbor. We’ve met before, I think.”

Madsby wasn’t sure about that last part, but it sounded very possible. “Hi… how are you?” Was there a fire? A theft? Would he be asked to be an emergency babysitter?

“I just came by, I wanted to, well, I just wanted to ask... if I could borrow... an egg.”

“One egg?”

“Yes, just one. Can you help me out?”

“Uh, sure. Just one moment.” Madsby left the door open and walked to his refrigerator. The man was still looking nervous but clearly encouraged that Madsby hadn’t slammed the door in his face. Madsby could tell this was one of the possible outcomes the man feared. To put the man at some ease, Madsby said, “No one borrows things from their neighbors anymore. You’d think everyone suspects each other of poisoning them at every turn.”

“I know! Well, I wasn’t sure to ask you. At first I poured myself a bowl of cereal, then I realized my milk had gone bad. Then, I thought I’d just make myself a bagel. As soon as the toaster went off, I realized that there was mold on my cream cheese. Then I decided to make myself some eggs, but I saw I didn’t have any. At that point I just told myself enough’s enough, I had to put my foot down.”

“I see.” And he did. Madsby’d had some of these mornings that didn’t go quite right. Back when he cared about whether or not things went quite right. “So why not borrow some milk? Or, I’m sure I’ve got cream cheese here somewhere.”

“Well, I guess you can’t win them all. Just the egg will be fine. Honestly I had to get out of the house a little bit too - talk to another person - I couldn’t believe the news this morning.”

Here was where Madsby started disliking the man again. He hadn’t seen the news this morning. He presumed the morning’s headlines would be full of the traditional political gridlock, horrific accidents, and international confusion that usually made up the day’s events.

And moreover, he disliked people who made leading statements like that one. Leaving the sentence hanging on that line of false suspense. He couldn’t believe the news this morning? Was it another grizzly plane crash? Had those in power done something stupid, yet again? However, considering Madsby’s current plans for the day, he didn’t want to go forward on a rude note, so he threw the poor conversationalist a bone: “Oh, really?”

“I mean, can you believe it? Extra-terrestrials.”

This was not a topic Madsby was anticipating. “Excuse me?”

“Haven’t you heard? Pull it up on any news site, all social media is talking about it nonstop. Real life aliens landed on the planet this morning. Wow, even the words feel funny coming out of my mouth. You’re the first person I’ve spoken to. Part of me thinks it’s still a prank.”

“All of me is sure of it.” After Madsby shook off the feeling of being slapped in the face with a frozen banana peel, he felt his frustration level rising. “There can’t be aliens here, the government would have kept it quiet. This is obviously some kind of hoax.”

“I don’t know if the government has a lot of say over what big green spacemen do or don’t do... Hasn’t stopped their militarizing though. Army and national guard forces are accumulating now just to be on standby. Last time I checked, anyway...”

“Young man, take your egg and go. If this is true, I’ve got to go to Washington immediately.” Madsby, who had been stunned while this explanation was unfolding, began to hurriedly pull himself together.

“Why Washington?”

“I intend to meet with these sorry beings. If they’ve landed here, they must be lost. I’ve got to persuade them to move along.” He grabbed his shoes, his wallet, and his jacket, and he was just about to grab his hat.

“But they’re not in Washington DC. The aliens have landed in Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles? What on earth for?”

“Haha, good one…” The neighbor met Madsby’s confused face with a nervous grin, and then began gesticulating wildly, holding his borrowed egg. “The early reports aren’t sure, no one’s made contact yet, but a few guys on the TV were predicting that they assumed it was the center of our political capital.”

“And why would they assume that…?”

“The aliens? Well, I don’t know, they said there’s been no contact.”

“Not the aliens, the scientists, why would they assume that?”

“Oh, well the alien spacecraft landed right in the center of town. On Hollywood Boulevard - right on top of a red carpet or something.”

The color drained from Madsby’s face. So, it was true. Outside galaxies had verified it. The society he knew and loved had objectively been taken over the media. Hollywood had become Olympus, Gods became men, and an entire species of alien life had come under the impression that pop culture governed our lives. Were they really wrong? Who was he to say they were or weren’t?

That’s what he had to find out before either they, or he, left this world. His hand finally closed around his hat and he marched out the door. He could muster no words to express his rage.

Madsby’s grunts and angry footsteps chased him down the hall as the other man stood in the doorway, still holding his single egg. It had indeed been a lot of news to drop on one person, the man thought to himself.

He scanned across the now vacant apartment and thought of how it reminded him of his own place, just with everything in the wrong order. Looking into Madsby’s apartment, he saw the souvenirs of a scattered life. The unifying theme seemed to be ‘clutter’. None of the furniture matched, and while the main walkways and the centers of the rooms seemed clean, he noticed neglected corners where it was clear the owner’s motivation had failed him. His eyes darted from the coat rack, to the portion of his kitchen counter where he kept his keys and unopened mail, to the kitchen table, and the piece of paper and pen lying abandoned.

The man knew he had to step inside the apartment anyway. How else was he going to lock the door from the inside? Madsby had just left without saying a word, but obviously the thing to do in this situation was take care of the guy’s apartment. Who hasn’t been in that situation? Caused to drop everything, change gears at a moment’s notice. It was no problem. The man turned his breakfast around in his hand a couple times, idly, as he leaned over the kitchen table and began to read the letter. Before he finished the first paragraph, he turned the deadbolt, closed the door, and rushed out onto the street to try and catch Mr. Madsby - one egg still firmly clutched in his hand.