Months Later, The White House
President James Wendell Connors sat in his comfortable, black, executive chair behind his desk in the Oval Office. He wore a black pinstripe suit and adjusted his gold-trimmed reading glasses before taking another sip of a new tea he discovered on one of his foreign trips. His Presidential speech needed fine-tuning. It had to be just right before he gave it to the World Trade Union. Mexico had agreed to give up its peso in favor of the American dollar. With Canada suspending its Canadian dollar in favor of an overall American dollar set by the United States, his speech had to strike the right tone. If all went well, the dollar would become the only legal tender for North America. Nothing was more important than approving this deal and setting his legacy in stone as a premier President. Never again would there be such a president as transformational as he.
The phone rang and broke his concentration.
“President Connors.”
“Pres-i-dent-Con-nors,” said a slow robotic voice.
“Yes? Who is this?”
President Connors checked the caller id, it read unknown number.
“My-nam-e-is-Nor-man,” the robotic voice spoke slow and melodic. “I-am-con-tact-ing you-to-a-rrange-a-mee-ting-be-tween-our-peo-ples-”
Without listening further, he slammed the phone back on the receiver, annoyed. He ran through the names on the caller id screen in an attempt to find the person crazy enough to get past security and bother him. “Miriam! Miriam!” He shouted into the next room. “Get in here.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. President,” said Miriam.
“Miriam, did you hear my phone ring?”
“Your private phone, sir?”
“Yes, damn it! My private phone.”
“N-N-No, sir.”
“Well, I must be hearing things because clearly it rang and I answered it. It sounded like one of those goddamn pushy robocalls. How in the hell did they get my number?”
Miriam stood, dumbfounded. Her eyes moved rapidly as she searched for an explanation. Finally, she looked at him. “I don’t know, sir. Shall I have the call traced?”
“I think that would be wise.”
“Yes, sir.”
Miriam hurried out of the room. She returned to her desk to make the appropriate phone calls.
Thirty minutes later the phone on the president’s desk rang again. The president kept rewriting his speech. The phone rang again. This time he absentmindedly picked it up.
“President Connors.”
The robotic voice spoke. “Pre-si-dent Connors, this-is Norman. I-re-present the peo-ple of Isdale. Being the-”
Connors face distorted. Though the voice came in faster and clearer, it frustrated him. His fist closed tightly and his heart rate increased. Enough blood filled his face to pop a blood vessel.
“Who the hell is this? How the hell did you get this number?”
“PresidentConnors, thisisNorman. Irepresentthe peopleofIsdale. Beingthe-” the voice had sped up to become an unintelligible blurb.
Connors couldn’t take the loud, shrill voice. He pushed the receiver from his ear, frowning.
“Look here, asshole! You call this number one more time and by god I will have every agent at my disposal hunting you. Don’t test me!”
“Pres-”
Connors slammed the phone down again. “Miriam! Get in here!”
Miriam hurried into his office. She adjusted her blue dress before smiling. “Yes, sir?”
“I just got hit with another robocall. Track it down. The next time that phone rings I want tracking in place, you hear me? Get to it and get Walter Fanmer on the phone.”
“Yes, sir.”
Miriam hurried back to her desk. She had to remember to call the man Fawnmer, he was so picky about people pronouncing his name wrong. She picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Security.”
“Yes, Albert, this is Miriam.”
“Hey, Mrs. Roster, how are you today?”
“Not good, Albert. President Connors received another robocall. I need you to trace the line and get back to me quickly. He has a bee in his bonnet and won’t sit still until he swats it.”
“All right, Mrs. Roster. I’ll have something for you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, Albert.”
Miriam Roster pushed the button to hang up the phone to dial a second number.
“Secret Service.”
“President Connors for Walter Fanmer, please,” said Miriam.
“Fanmer.”
“Hey, Walter, how are you?”
“Good, Miriam. What can I do for you?”
“Hold for the President.”
Miriam pressed her intercom button.
“Yes?”
“Mr. Fawnmer for you, sir,” she stressed as a reminder, “line two.”
“About time,” the President released the intercom and picked up his phone. He pressed the button for line two. “Fanmer?”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“Walter, I have had the misfortune of being queried with two robocalls on my private line in the space of an hour. Do you have an explanation for this odd behavior?”
“Sorry, sir. I don’t. I’m on it.”
“Take those bastards out. I’ve got too much going on for nonsense like this.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll make some calls.”
“Good.”
President Connors hung up the phone. He cleared his head and stood to rehearse his speech. He held the papers in his left hand and began motioning with his right while mumbling. He went on in this manner for some time. Then, the phone rang and broke his concentration. Connors immediately thought of the robocaller and smiled. He would keep him on the line and catch him this time. This threat to his peace would come to a swift end. He picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
“Pres-i-dent Con-nors,” chimed the robotic voice. The voice sped up to normal speak. It sounded like a man of Connors age and background. “President Connors, this is Norman. I represent the people of Isdale.”
Connors chuckled. He was happy to finally understand the voice and even happier to know the caller had no way of knowing of his imminent doom. “Is that a fact now?”
“Yes, President Connors.”
“And just where is this, what you call it, Isdale?”
“Isdale is our home planet in the constellation Virgo.”
He chuckled again. “Home planet you say.”
“We are from what you term outer space, President Connors. We wish to communicate with you.”
“Of course, of course, of course.” Connors looked at his wristwatch to gauge how much time had passed. He pushed his intercom button. Put his hand over the phone and said in a low voice, “they’re on the phone now, trace this call.”
A crackling sounded followed by a, “yes, sir.”
“So . . . you call yourself Norman do you?”
“May we speak with you, President Connors?”
“Why is that?”
“You are the only sentient life-form we have come across. It would be an honor to meet you, President Connors.”
“Oh, and it would be an honor to meet you as well. Why don’t you come on over and introduce yourself in person?”
“That would require time and preparation. We have not acclimated to your environment. We need two days for the process to complete. After that, I have been assured we shall be able to converse in greater detail. I’m calling to inform you of our presence and to make introductions.”
Before Connors could respond, a man walked into the room with Miriam. She directed him to the sofa and he waved at the President before sitting.
“Well, thanks for the introduction, we will talk very soon.”
Connors hung up the phone. He walked over with a bright smile and shook hands with a man wearing a black suit and a white earpiece around his left ear.
“Sir, we got him.”
“All right, Fanmer, good deal. What?” Both Fanmer and Miriam hung their heads at
the butchering of the man’s name. “Never mind,” Connors continued before losing his train of thought, “find this turd and bring him here. I’m going to teach him about accessing my private line.”
“It will take some time,” said Fanmer. “We tracked the signal to the Appalachian mountains of North Carolina. He might be dug in pretty good there.”
“I don’t want excuses or delays. Find him and get him here, Fanmer. Get going and keep me up to date.”
“My team is outside and ready to go, sir.”
Connors shook his hand with gusto. Another problem eliminated. He saw the man out and returned to his speech. He walked the floors and rehearsed with a little extra umph in his step. Two days my ass, thought Connors, I will find those bastards today and skin them alive.