Charles conveyed the analysed intelligence he gleaned from the correspondence in a file for the Prime Minister’s eyes only, but the entire weekly interchange was bound for review by the sheriff and his wife as well as others, like the Prbzts, who were adjudicated into the caveat covering all aspects of Sogguth’s most secret mission.
Early in the journey, Dr Sarah Millstone divined the wisdom of winnowing all health data revealed in the correspondence for integration with her space medical records. The dietary information and exercise regime were straight out of the protocols dictated by the Council, reflecting aeons of practical experience. The exercise machines aboard the interstellar space vessel contained lessons to be learned by the relatively primitive devices used on Earth.
Sheriff Millstone obtained permission from the PM for Sogguth’s bride’s parents to receive sanitised portions of the correspondence, for which they were eternally grateful. Once each month, the parents were privileged to send a letter of their own to keep in touch though they were not allowed to know how many millions of miles away from Earth their only daughter was stationed.
Meanwhile, Millstone continued to hold forth at his table at the rear of the Cracked Bell pub where on this day, precisely six months after the Sogguths’ elopement, Crenshaw and Straight were grousing and complaining about being given ‘the mushroom treatment’ by the authorities. The tabloid newshounds had hit a brick wall whenever they asked about Sogguth and the true purpose of the Masked Ball that coincided with his disappearance.
‘Sheriff, you should play fair. After all, we refrained from raising the hue and cry about our suspicions. At least give us a credible story we can share with our readers.’
‘Crenshaw, whatever I tell you will be processed through your faux news factories and serve no useful purpose whatsoever.’
‘We finally gained access to the custodians of the Oxbridge palaeontologist whose work in Indonesia was summarily shut down. The disconsolate professor is trying to employ every angle of our legal institutions to be reinstated to his dig where he left off, to no avail. His jailers relayed to us his concerns about a grievous miscarriage of justice. What do you say to that?’
‘I have already said everything I can about this matter. National security sometimes seems a difficult task master, but the Official Secrets Act, once imposed, must remain inviolate.’
Straight, who had remained silent all this while, said, ‘I fail to see how artifacts supposedly thousands of years old can be a matter of current national security.’
The sheriff said, ‘No comment. Will you gentlemen have another pint of bitter—on the house?’
Olive, who had been waiting for this moment, stepped forward to serve the disgruntled newsmen a fresh pint each.
‘Thank you for the pint, but my cartoonist is both brilliant and imaginative. He has concocted a story with illustrations about aliens coming to Earth periodically for a billion years. The Oxbridge professor, according to him, stumbled upon evidence of such invasions, and that was the reason our security apparatus came down like a steel trap to contain both him and his relics. What do you say if I told you that story will run tomorrow morning in my tabloid and, in another version, in Straight’s tabloid the day after?’
‘Crenshaw, I personally have no objection to your newspaper’s publishing whatever nonsense you wish. As long as you do not use classified material in your concoctions, you are free to do so. Of course, if the government objects, there is nothing I can do to protect you from prosecution. As long as your editor takes full responsibility for your content, no one will be surprised by the outcome.’
‘Well, Sheriff, our editors have both approved this story as well as the cartoons associated with it.’ Straight looked Millstone directly in the eyes, defiantly.
Millstone sipped his pint and drummed his fingers on the table. The conversation was over. If the tabloids wanted to test the government, they would soon discover the limits of their freedom of expression.
Just as the newshounds said, the next day Crenshaw’s story caused a sensation. The day following, Straight’s story compounded the excitement caused by his colleague. The sheriff perused the texts, but he could not find any fault in the gibberish and fantasy in either paper. So after four days of uproar and questions among the populace, the citizens settled down, confident there was no proof in the allegations. The sheriff, who knew how close to the truth the newspaper accounts were, kept to his own counsel and bought rounds of bitter to assuage the likes of Crenshaw and Straight.
Two weeks after the appearance of the stories about supposed ancient alien visitations, the Prime Minister came to see the sheriff at the Cracked Bell pub. His stated purpose was to discuss plans for new exercise machines for the city park.
Sir Douglas said, ‘I am told these new machines will revolutionise how we shall be conducting our personal exercises in future. I see we have representatives of the press nearby, and I exhort them to give maximum coverage to the advantages of these machines as our people will benefit from them immediately.’
Crenshaw, affecting to be interested, said, ‘Prime Minister, may I quote you about the machines being revolutionary improvements?’
The PM said, ‘Harumph! Why, of course!’
‘And do you personally use these machines at your home?’
‘I shall soon do so as the same machines are being installed on my estate as we speak.’
‘Once your machines have been installed, would you mind my documenting your use of them with my photographer and my cartoonist?’
‘Make an appointment with my amanuensis, and we shall make it so.’
‘Thank you, Sir. And Sheriff, are you going to be installing the same machines at your tenement?’
‘As a matter of fact, yes! And, to anticipate your next query, yes, you may arrange to photograph or draw me using the devices at my home. For the record, I have no ownership interest in the machines. My wife believes they will be of benefit to the general public. And she will be willing to make a statement to that effect at a press meeting if you like.’
Crenshaw and Straight both sat up in their chairs for the first time that day. They could see the merit of reporting this information, complete with the testimonies of all concerned. What they could not know was that the exercise machines were designed and built on the basis of the equipment described as being used daily by the Sogguths in deep space on an interstellar vehicle. The apparatuses monitored vital signs in near real time and contained diagnostic software that alerted the end-user and his or her physician of risks to the user’s anatomy and physiology.
The sheriff saw the newshounds’ eyes grow wide with excitement as he rattled off the advantages of the new devices. Crenshaw was anxious to try the machines himself. Straight knit his brow as he thought through the implications.
‘Sheriff, these devices seem to be designed like no other. Can you provide the names of the inventors so we can interview them for our articles?’
The sheriff said, ‘All things will be made manifest in time. First, let’s report on the capabilities. As the public gains interest, we’ll divulge all the details.’
Crenshaw elbowed his colleague. ‘I’m willing to go one step at a time, Sheriff. If the new equipment is as healthy as you suggest, its goodness will be apparent to everyone. The fact that Dr Sarah stands behind its use is enough for me.’
The excitement generated by the new exercise machines was palpable. Not faux news or fantasy, the devices actually worked—at Sir Douglas’s estate, at the sheriff’s tenement and in the city park. Testimonials of the powerful were not as eloquent as expressions of joy from everyday people, who found the devices easier to use and more productive than any others of their kind.
Three weeks after their first disclosure, the newshounds had forgotten about writing stories about their origins or makers. Sir Douglas was now making speeches in Parliament about the benefits of using the machines, which took up little space and talked with their users like concerned and competent personal trainers.
In the hot tub deep in the tenement, the Millstones and the Prbzts sang the praises of the alien devices.
‘Our machines have learned what each of us needs by way of an exercise routine. In a space no larger than that required for a treadmill, we have the universal exerciser. I can understand why the Sogguths swear by it for use during long space journeys.’ Sarah was ecstatic.
Ibngort said, ‘I am still marvelling at a single machine’s ability to service everyone in this tenement flawlessly.’
Fatty enjoyed the soapy water jets of the hot tub. ‘The inherent AI has a sensorium to die for. It identifies all pathogens presented by the user and cleans itself of all contaminants after every use.’
Dr Sarah said, ‘More than that, it measures body mass and does longitudinal analysis through the entire cycle of physical training. In fact, the AI is the equivalent of a physician’s assistant. I am going to recommend its use in bath houses throughout the county. Because it can share data with all its associated machines, the system of linked devices will be an early warning capability for disease control and prevention. Further, there is no reason to mystify its analytical processes. Its contribution to the medical capability should be promulgated far and wide. Its source and origin are beside the point.’
Ibngort said, ‘We are going to have to determine how to make these machines available to the general public in parks just as we have done with our stationary exercises machines. Weather, especially, must be considered.’
Trudy was catching the enthusiasm of the moment. ‘Maybe we can find a way to introduce the devices into the restrooms of public places like the Cracked Bell pub. Imagine how we have suffered with waste-flooded floors and drains. Then imagine how these machines can measure the effects of such effluents while they cleanse themselves and their surroundings.’
The bathers brainstormed for several hours and before they were finished, they had decided how to do their roll-out of the devices. The Prbzts departed, leaving the Millstones as the last to be using the hot tub.
‘We have made the best of alien technology that the Sogguths use every day. Consider, Husband, what other technologies long in use by aliens we can deploy here on Earth.’
Fatty could find no fault with his spouse’s argument. His mind was expanding with the exhilaration of ideas. The fact that inventions could be lifted whole cloth from their universal contexts for improving conditions on Earth overwhelmed him.
Through the night, the sheriff wrote down his conclusions. He sent a long letter to Sogguth outlining the implications of everything that had been discussed in the hot tub earlier that evening and night.
The next day at the Cracked Bell, he waxed rhapsodic about the vision for the future he and his friends had shared in the hot tub. The newshounds could tell something remarkable had occurred.
‘Sheriff, you have hit on something with this medical vision,’ Crenshaw said.
Fatty sipped his pint and shook his head. ‘I am merely the mouthpiece. My wife is the mastermind behind the new medicine. You should interview her in detail, for she knows all the answers.’
The medical vision caught on as the natural successor idea to the ideas inherent in the new exercise machines. The next day’s tabloids were crammed full of ideas and dream pieces. By noon, Crenshaw and Straight were interviewing Dr Sarah Millstone at her clinic. The newshounds, their photographers and their cartoonists went wild with her ideas. By three o’clock, the press departed to fill the news hole for the following day. Now instead of singing the praises of machines, they were connecting the dots of an elaborate, single system of systems for the nation’s medicine—a capability that would shrink costs while placing advanced technology, including AI, in the hands of citizen end users.
The morning after that, the PM and his amanuensis showed up at the Cracked Bell pub to catch up on the latest developments. There, the PM directed his amanuensis to gather all the evidence and prepare a speech he could deliver in Parliament about the costs and benefits of the futuristic vision. In elaborating the vision, the newshounds were equal partners, and the PM absorbed all he could before the sheriff and he departed for the hot tub in the tenement.
In the hot sudsy bath, Fatty explained to the PM why he had diverted the tabloid writers from pursuing matters of national security to exploring the possibilities for the improvement of the nation’s healthcare.
‘Sheriff, I commend you for your initiative. Tomorrow I intend to bring the nation to its senses about our medical future. I understand this initiative is largely that of your wife, Dr Sarah Millstone, and I shall give her due credit. The only question is, are you both ready to satisfy the public with the earth-shaking new capabilities that will bring the future to our people at all levels?’
As if on cue, Dr Sarah entered the bath and sank into the warm water. ‘Hello, Mr. Prime Minister. Did I hear you ask whether we thought we were ready to execute our vision for a future healthcare? I can assure you that we are ready, willing and able. You may pass my assurance to your fellow parliamentarians.’
The PM did not have to be told twice. He towelled himself off and raced home to prepare for the next day’s speech. As for the sheriff, he enfolded his wife in his tentacle and pressed her close to him. ‘This is only the beginning of the goodness that will come from our trust in Sogguth.’
The couple soaked in the hot tub as their thoughts flew out into the far reaches of the cosmos. The sheriff wished Sogguth could be present to witness the translation of Earth’s technology by alien contact. He had done his best to share the joy in his message to Sogguth, but he must wait to deliver the message face to face. He did not know how long that wait would be, but he vowed it would happen some day.
