Better Luck Next Time

Warning Some drug-use references.

I am watching Gus sitting in the back of his ute in a layby on the back-side of Mt. Coot-tha. As he often does, he is taking refuge from all the aggro his missus has been giving him. Poor old Gus.

Gus is high. Higher than a kite. Higher than a kite trailed behind an F-111.

Looking up at the rather drastically shimmering stars, one of his last clear thoughts is: "Man! This must be strong shit. I didn't mean to get this high."

It is all downhill from there as far as Gus' rationality goes.

The interdimensional trans-ship plops into Gus' region of 4-dimensional space-time, exudes a glistening finger of soap-bubble thin hull around Gus and pops out of the aforementioned region of space-time.

I feel a little sorry for Gus' alien abductors.

There was a whole planet full of potential abductees; they could have picked up absolutely anyone. On the front side of the same mountain a sizeable grouping of astronomy hobbyists were comparing notes on the size of their instruments in the bright moonlight. Any one of them would have simply welcomed being abducted. The world's story would have been so different had Hank "the full six inches" Harriman been shifted away instead.

The alien inquisitors just plain struck out with Gus.

Within the interdimensional trans-ship, Gus is instantly immobilised in preparation for the mental probing to come.

Were he sober, Gus would have found the experience of being simultaneously pressored and tractored quite unnerving. Stoned as he is, Gus merely giggles and shouts "Resistance is futile!" followed by the apparent non-sequiter: "Not the pink feathers again! Please, not the pink feathers."

Glowing rods of precisely-adjusted forces manoeuvre a neural probe onto Gus' head and the universal neuro-lingual-psycho translation interface matrix starts doing its thing...

...and for the first time ever, fails. Utterly.

I actually feel a lot sorry for the abductors.

All that effort wasted, what a shame. How were those guys to know that in the whole universe only 'shit'-raddled Human brains are immune to neural probing?

Making a note to the effect of 'animal', the unseen aliens extrude Gus back onto his ute at almost precisely the point in space-time where/when they took him and go on their way.

As far as Gus' recollection of the whole experience went, the moon simply blinked its long, purple eyelashes at him.

I probably feel sorriest for the Human race.

Those inquisitive aliens would have ushered in a new era of peace and prosperity. That is their thing, they are great guys! Humankind could have been handed the golden key with which to unlock the myriad secrets of the whole space-time continuum.

Gus' addled brainwaves put paid to all that, and no human will ever be any the wiser. If only the aliens had picked up Hank Harriman.

Better luck next time, Humans.