Xenophobia by Peter Cawdron Read Free Book Online

softening the night. Dark shadows stretched across the village. Huts and fences cast elongated shadows on the ground, appearing as silhouettes against the horizon. Occasionally, Bower caught a glimpse of movement and her heart stopped. The soft crackle of a radio would assure her she’d seen a soldier moving about the desolate village and not a rebel sneaking into the camp. The stars were radiant, with the planets Mars and Jupiter glistening like diamonds next to the Moon. Bower couldn’t appreciate their beauty, her eyes barely noticed the fine pin-pricks of celestial light.
    “What are they going to make of all this?” Kowalski asked, his back leaning against the low brick wall outside one of the huts.
    They who? Bower vaguely wondered, but she was distracted, thinking about the patients who had fled, wondering how they were faring.
    Bower and Kowalski had housed the remaining patients inside the empty huts, rigging mosquito nets over them.
    The nurses and doctors wore long sleeve shirts with loose elastic bands around the wrist, along with gloves to protect their hands. In addition, they wore broad-rim hats with mosquito netting to protect the face and neck, but still mosquitos buzzed around trying to find a way in. They’d sprayed repellant, but Bower swore the mosquitos had come to savor the smell.
    Bower missed Kowalski’s question. She’d worked with him for the past six months, ever since he transferred from Sudan. Bower liked him, but she found it hard to understand what he said at times. Kowalski was originally from Czechoslovakia. His English was technically correct, but his speech was clipped. The rhythm with which he spoke and his sharp accent meant Bower had to concentrate on his words or she’d miss his points entirely.
    Kowalski pointed at the sky. “You think they’ll think we’re nuts?”
    “They’d be right,” she replied, casting her eyes up and recognizing the constellation of Orion.
    “It must be quite something,” he added, with his natural cadence slightly accentuating the close of each sentence. “Do you think they’ll help us?”
    “Well, if Africa is any yard stick to go by, it’s clear we can’t help ourselves. We can do with all the help we can get.”
    “Their space ship, what do you think it looks like?”
    “I don’t know. Big, I guess.” Her mind cast back to the various radio broadcasts they’d listened to, and although there had been some mention of telescopes being pointed at the alien spaceship, there hadn’t been any descriptions offered. Bower figured their little corner of the world was probably among the few places on Earth that hadn’t seen any images of the alien spacecraft. In her mind’s eye, she could imagine the hype and borderline panic that must be gripping the Western world with its 24x7 media frenzies. Overnight, such images would have become ubiquitous, with every television network pundit offering an opinion on the weird shapes. Bower could understand why NASA kept the alien presence secret for so long as the media had a way of encouraging hysteria.
    “I think they come in peace,” she added in soft tones. “Maybe it’s just me reading my own hopes into their intents, but they have to come in peace. After all, they’re intelligent, more intelligent than us. Anything else wouldn’t make sense.”
    “Really?” Kowalski replied. “Technical achievements and intelligence are not synonymous. I mean, here we are, by far the most intelligent species on the planet, and we’re forever waging war against ourselves. I don’t know that intelligence counts for much. Look at the warring tribes of Africa, the tension between China and Japan, Israel and the Middle East, it seems we’re all too keen to drive each other into the ground.
    "To be more advanced doesn't mean someone’s necessarily more intelligent. They may be advanced enough to cross the vast expanse of space, but I don't know that makes them any brighter than us, just as you and I