| | FICTION: JUVENILEWORKS |
BAROON — Part 4 BY J. ROBINSON WHEELER | Introduction | Part 5 |
Unfortunately, they did haveto remember that they were only the first landing party of many, or so itseemed, and that they would have to leave. They were not to stay forever.With great sadness Mintz reported to the newspapers that they were due toleave within a month, but not before choosing 5 lucky Baroonian citizensto come with them. Needless, as they say, tosay, choosing 5 out of an entire population "ready and willing to makethe journey" would take more than a month, and there wasn't enoughpaper on the planet to handle the number of applications that were due toturn in. In fact, the government went on a vast campaign of forest clearingand wood pulp production, laying waste great amounts of land and boostingthe profits for ink and paper industries 5600% in the next 3 weeks. Applicationforms were mailed out, stuck in newspapers, nailed to remaining trees, tapedto windows, and the globe became a wash of little white pieces of paper.Thousands of clerks and miscellaneous workers were hired at an enourmousexpense to handle the income of mail, sure to flood the postal systems,and the gigantic task of sorting, evaluating, and filing of each application.The last world-wide census pollings reported the population at roughly 3billion eligible to make the journey to the moon, something many scientistsand dreamers the world over had surely dreamed of doing since the worldwas new. The first day, 20 applicationscame in and were promptly sorted, evaluated, and filed. All but one wererejected right away and put into the "scrap" pile. Three somewhatbored clerks collected their paychecks happily, but a bit jealous of thoseother two-thousand eight-hundred and seventy-two clerks who were also collectingpaychecks but didn't have to do anything for it. As these other clerks weregrudgingly paid by the government as well, they couldn't help but feel abit jealous for the three clerks who actually got to do something duringthe day. Still, money was food, money was one of those new-fangled radios,money was, in short, money. Two weeks later, another4 applications had turned up, and all were rejected just as quickly as thefirst 19. Thirteen days following,the reject pile was looking better and better. "I don't understand!"whimpered the man whose idea it was to launch the huge campaign of enlistment."I thought it was every person's wish to visit the moon!" "I think they're allwaiting for someone else to do it," postulated another. "Perhaps," saida third, "they are interested in the idea, but the whole concept seemsmuch too frightening." "Or maybe they're allwimps." "But...you two didn'tsign up either!" stammered the first. "That's not what we'repaid for," the second said. "I agree. Oh well,"the third added, addressing the first. "See you when you get out offederal prison." The metal door shut witha resounding clank. In the days that followed,the Dialans became more and more insistent that they choose 5 people forthe journey, the deadline now past. If it came down to pulling 4 of therejected names out of a box, that would be it. Laupo went to the newspapersseveral times with vehement pleas for volunteers. No other applicationsshowed up. Public opinion began to turn, to become wary of motives. Whowere these visitors? Why had they come in and so quickly turned societyupside down? What is so important about bringing five citizens with them?Could the books and stories be true? And what of the clog of wastepaper that managed to pollute 7/8ths of the world's land area? There wasa hurried campaign to collect it up and store it in a series of warehousesuntil someone thought of what to with all of the paper. The Dialans offeredno suggestions. One particularly inventive native Baroonian came up withthe concept of recycling the stored paper. "We will need to cutdown no more trees for the next 38 years!" cheered the receptive crowd. Unfortunately, the recently-filledwarehouses were burned down during a freak lightning storm, spewing blackash into the atmosphere worldwide, and in particular concentration in a5-mile radius. Fortunately, they were located in a desert area, which soonbecame known as the Black Desert. Unfortunately, all of the major newspaperswere expecting to receive their paper stock from the new recycling plantsand so had none in reserve. Thus, in order to bring the news of this tragedyto the people, more new trees had to be mowed down. Meanwhile, the Dialans wereextremely upset about this. It had spoiled the atmospheric conditions andthey would have to re-calculate their departure plans. They were groundedfor the time being, it seemed. They became bitter and reserved after thisincident, spending fully 4 extra months on the planet. During this time,public appearances became very limited, and then none at all, causing publicopinion to go down even further. More editorials filled the newspapers aboutwhat they were really up to. It was all speculation, but they could notbe accountable for libel since the Dialans were not proper citizens. One day, Ohnja was corneredduring a walk down the street by a mob of reporters. Not wanting to talkto them at all, he made a few comments about their rudeness and invasionof personal privacy. And then he made an offhandcomment — THE commment, as it was later to be known — aboutbeing at the center of the Universe. "Die, heretic!"they shouted. "You Baroonians aresoooo naive," said Ohnja as he was carted off by the angry mob.
Needless to say, it did nothelp the situation any.
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