Interview Number 14
by William Kitcher
Part 1 appears in this issue.
conclusion
The alien moved closer to me and I couldn’t help but put my arms around her and hug her. She, it, hugged me back, and I felt a warmth and security I had never felt before. She stroked my hair and my back. I stroked her back as well but can’t tell you what I felt; it didn’t feel like skin or fur or anything that I knew. It was something else completely.
So this is where it gets good. She then pulled my boxers down and climbed on to me. I felt like I was in a dream, one in which there are no consequences, and nothing to stop you from doing anything, like flying in a dream. Have you ever done that? It’s pretty amazing.
Jean flashed through my mind but only briefly. It didn’t seem to me that I was doing anything wrong at all, and the alien and I had sex for what seemed like hours but which could have been only minutes. I went back to bed and had a great sleep.
In the morning, I wondered if I could tell Jean about what happened and decided it was better to just keep my mouth shut.
I went to work as usual, but one thought kept coming back to me: I wanted to go home and have sex with the alien again.
When I got home, Jean had gone to work and the kids were still at school, so I went out to the backyard and sat on the swing. The ramp to the disk opened, and the alien appeared at the top of it and motioned me inside.
Once I was inside, the ramp closed again, and all I could see was a dim light that seemed to emanate from everywhere at once. I couldn’t see anything else except for the alien. No control panel, no lights, no steering wheel. Nothing. It seemed to be empty.
Emma Watts: What happened?
Mr. Kitcher: We had sex again.
(Mr. Kitcher finished his scotch in one gulp, then poured himself another one from a bottle he had hidden in his housecoat. He was permitted only one a day by the nurses.)
Mr. Kitcher: So I finally came out of the disk, and there was my daughter Erin sitting on the porch. I think she was doing some homework, and she asked me what I was doing in there. Well, I couldn’t tell her, could I?
Then she said to me, very seriously, in a tone I’d never heard before, that she had something to tell me, and that I had to promise never to tell anyone.
She told me that that morning, she’d had sex with the alien. She said that she thought she should feel bad and ashamed, but that she didn’t because it was wonderful, she said. But she kept referring to the alien as “he,” so I told her that the alien was female. I didn’t want to tell her how I knew that... But she kept saying “he” and then described the alien as being tall and broad-shouldered and that was weird because the alien was small, as I said. And I remember saying, “It appears as we want...”
(Mr. Kitcher appeared to have gone to sleep, but I nudged his arm, and he was fully awake.)
Mr. Kitcher: Sorry about that. I was just remembering... So this was all weird. And I couldn’t tell anyone. And I had to try to be normal... I remember that night I tried to have sex with Jean but she didn’t want to. And, to be honest, I didn’t either. But later that night, I heard her get out of bed and go downstairs. And she went out the back door and into the disk.
And the next day I was out in the backyard and saw my son Sam come out of the disk... And he told me that the alien was tall and kind of chunky and had big boobs. I asked him why he went in there in the first place, and he said that our neighbour had told him to go in there. Mr. Levin had been having sex with the alien as well! That old coot!
Then Sam said that it was kind of weird that the aliens had landed on his birthday. I corrected him that they had landed on my birthday. But he was insistent, and reminded me of a Saturday when a bunch of his friends were there, playing baseball, and Sam was wearing a kind of crown that said “Happy Birthday Sam” on it, when we all noticed the spaceships. Somehow I kind of half-remembered that as well. Funny how everyone thought the aliens landed on their birthdays. I guess I know why.
And so it went, day after month after year. We found out that what had happened to us was happening all over the world. We completely lost physical interest in each other and cared only about the aliens, who seemed to love us and in any way we wanted. They never communicated to us in any way but this. We never found out where they were from, how they got to Earth, what their propulsion system was, whether they had other science or culture. Honestly, I don’t think anyone cared. They seemed to be about only love and sex.
For a while, some people thought we had an ethical conundrum in that we were still in relationships with other humans, but were having sex only with aliens. The churches ranted about it. Conservatives thought it was outrageous although, in their own hypocritical way, they were also having sex only with aliens. Gradually, not even they cared about it anymore.
And the sex was great. You can’t imagine how great it was. Or maybe you can.
Ever done buzztabs?
Emma Watts: No, sir, I haven’t.
Mr. Kitcher: I did buzztabs twice. In Manila. Real good. But I didn’t want to get hooked. So I stopped. Anyway, the sex was like that multiplied by ten. So intense. Just incredibly intense at the time and so peaceful after. Nothing compares.
And I got hooked on that. Just had to have it. All the time. And thought about it all the time. And what really frightened me was that the aliens might go away. What would I do then? Cold turkey off that would’ve been awful. And then I wondered, suppose I got off the kick ’cause the aliens went away or something, suppose I got off it, and then they came back...
So, by about ’77 or ’78, I guess it was, it became apparent that the world birth rate was down significantly but no one really cared; everything was running smoothly and we’d gotten rid of all of the jobs that had become unnecessary, you know, like the military, stockbrokers, lawyers. And all the necessary stuff — clean water, food, shelter, energy needs — were well taken care of by everyone else in between bouts of alien sex.
But the actual declining number of births was a problem, and people figured we had to do something. Someone figured out that we could breed babies in dishes if people cooperated. People were screened to ensure ethnic diversity, intelligence, physical capability, that kind of thing, and to make sure no one inherited eyesight like mine.
I’m not sure any of that matters since genetics has its own way of throwing in variables and, since we’re human, inevitably we’ll probably screw it up somehow. They set up children’s centres everywhere but, as humans have really different views on child-raising, that didn’t really work out.
And then the technicians got bored with breeding babies and went off to have sex with the aliens. At least, that’s what I heard.
How old are you, Emma?
Emma Watts: 24.
Mr. Kitcher: That’s young. Not many of you.
Emma Watts: No, sir.
Mr. Kitcher: How many people do you think are left?
Emma Watts: Hard to say. There are still a lot of people over the age of 80, like you. Not so many between 40 and 80. And a handful of us who are younger. I guess, in total, maybe several thousand, maybe more.
Mr. Kitcher: Is that enough?
Emma Watts: Hard to say.
Mr. Kitcher: That’s too bad, but I guess wild animals could use a break. Earth was really overpopulated before, and nature suffered for that. Yeah, it’s too bad, but I won’t be around for the end of it, that’s for sure. My wife and children are dead, neither Erin nor Sam had any children, and I don’t recall anyone among my family or friends who had grandchildren.
Emma Watts: Why do you think they came here in the first place?
Mr. Kitcher: Oh, I don’t know. Maybe they saw what a mess we were making of everything and they wanted to fix things. Humans are violent, war-like creatures, always have been, and don’t seem to be getting any better.
Emma Watts: We’re not at war now.
Mr. Kitcher: Only because of them. Maybe we’d revert if they left.
Emma Watts: Then why not just kill us all?
Mr. Kitcher: Maybe — we don’t know what their psychology is like — maybe they like the sex as much as we do and can’t stop.
Emma Watts: But they must know they’re wiping us out.
Mr. Kitcher: Maybe it’s an unforeseen consequence. Or maybe there are just enough people alive to satisfy them and they’ll figure out a way to maintain that. There are a lot of maybes there. Who can understand other people, let alone aliens?
Emma Watts: Any suggestions about what to do?
Mr. Kitcher: Nothing about the big issue. Day to day, I guess just enjoy it. Anything else you need from me?
Emma Watts: Not unless you have something else to add.
Mr. Kitcher: No, I don’t think so. But if I remember anything else, I’ll give you a call. I think you’ve had enough for now, haven’t you?
Emma Watts: Yes, thank you very much, Mr. Kitcher. You’ve been extremely helpful.
Mr. Kitcher: I noticed that you got up and left the room a lot while I was talking. I guess you were...
Emma Watts: Yes, sir, I was.
Mr. Kitcher: Not easy to give it up, is it?
Emma Watts: No, sir.
Mr. Kitcher: That’s all right. It’s part of being human. You’re a nice young lady. Easy to talk to.
(Mr. Kitcher got up from his chair and left the room, but he came back a moment later.)
Mr. Kitcher: You know, I still occasionally do it with an alien. Or, at least I try to...
Copyright © 2021 by William Kitcher
