17

With Walter’s direction, it wasn’t hard finding Harcus’s studio. Since his show went from midnight to 3 AM (and it was supposedly done live), I figured the earliest he got to the studio was 6 PM.

I wasn' too far off. He arrived in a nondescript grey Plymouth at exactly 6:15. I was standing outside the door waiting for him. He didn’t show any surprise, which makes sense in his line of work. As far as he was concerned, I was just another guy with a crazy story. The question was, would the story be good enough to get me on the air.

Harcus looked to be in his thirties, medium height, a little on the pudgy side. Maybe eating too much late at night was contributing to that. He wore glasses and had a thick mustache. We shook hands and went inside. His office and studio were all in one room. He might have had a bathroom. There was one other door in the room, I don’t know if it went to a bathroom. It might have just led outside.

Obviously, this place was only meant for one thing, broadcasting Harcus’s midnight show. It was spartan in furniture and other office accessories. The radio broadcasting part was also minimal. No frills. A control board, two microphones, etc. It could be disassembled in a matter of minutes and moved to parts unknown. I had a feeling that had happened more than once.

After speaking to Harcus for a few minutes, I could tell why he was a good interviewer; because he was a good listener. I told him just enough to pique his curiosity. He took the bait.

There was a small hitch though. It was Friday night and he already had a guest booked, so it would be Saturday (or Sunday starting at midnight) before I could be on the show, Not a problem, I said. He told me to be back at 11:30 the next night. We shook hands and I left him to his show prep.

I spent the night thinking about what bothered me about October 1962. It had to be important, but it wasn’t the kind of thing that left an indelible impression on your mind such as the assassination of John Kennedy on November 22, 1963 or the events of September 11, 2001. Those historic moments are so strong you not only remember them, you also remember where you were at the time you first heard about them. In the case of the JFK assassination, I was standing in the hallway of the school where I attended fourth grade. I can even remember a couple of the people who were standing near me.

Then it struck me that whatever it was bothering me might have something to do with the FTLs. Then I remembered. October 1962 was the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, maybe the closest the earth ever came to a full-scale nuclear war. There was a lot of anxiety during that time. But thankfully, the two countries (USA and The Soviet Union) pulled away from the brink.

Were the FTLs on earth simply because humanity had developed atomic bomb-making technology? And if so, why did that matter to them? I had speculated they might enjoy soaking in a reactor core but they didn’t seem like beings who relished the destructiveness of war.

The morning found me at a café. Alligator Bacon was on the menu, but I went with the more pedestrian regular bacon, eggs and toast. The café was crowded and the only seat I could find was a table full of farmers and local businessman. The Cuban Missile Crisis was still a few days off, so the topics ranged from sports to religion to politics. I spoke up occasionally, but I was mostly there to listen. Another week or so and there would be only one topic of conversation.

I spent the rest of the day enjoying the mild autumn weather. I arrived promptly at 11:30 PM at the studio. The door was locked, so I knocked.

Harcus opened the door, “Glad you made it.” He told me to take a seat. He was still busy getting ready for the opening. It was a one-man operation, so he had to take care of the technical duties as well as host duties.

At midnight, he played the opening music for the show. Appropriately eerie.

After saying a few words, he introduced me as Mr. X. (I switch to identifying him as Thayer or TH).

Thayer said, “Why don’t you kick off things off with your basic premise.”

“Thank you, Thayer. In the time period 1945 to 1947 sentient light beams began visiting earth. Most people just mistook them for meteor showers, or more commonly known as shooting stars.”

TH interjected: “Or UFOs.”

I smiled, “That’s true. Well, they’ve been coming to earth on a regular basis since then. I need to talk to them, and I was hoping your listeners could help me out.”

Thayer asked, “Have you met one?”

“Yes. I actually met three at one time, but they disappeared before I could discuss an urgent matter with them.”

Thayer: “If they’re so common, why are they so hard to find?”

“It’s their modus operandi. For most of any 24-hour period, they are undetectable. They assume humanoid form for all daytime hours and even a good portion of the night.”

Thayer: “How did you manage to see the three you did?”

“It was in a dark church in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know why they were there.”

Thayer: “What made you look in the church?”

“I noticed faint, flashing lights when I was passing by the church. I played a hunch and it paid off.”

Thayer: “No sightings since then.”

“Not a peep. And I’ve been on the lookout, staying up most every night.”

Thayer: “Do you think they pose a threat to earth?”

“Not intentionally. But they don’t seem to be very smart. So, something bad could happen.”

Thayer: “Okay, I think that’s a good introduction to tonight’s topic, so let’s open up to callers.” Thayer pushed a button on the phone, “Hello, you’re on the Thayer Harcus Show.”

For the next two hours, we got a lot of calls, many of them rather fascinating if totally screwy, and then finally:

Caller: “This is Lighty. I’m one of those not-too-bright sentient light beams your guest is talking about.”

Bingo.

Thayer: “Well, Lighty, it’s good to talk to you. Any way you can prove you’re a light beam?”

Lighty answered, “Just because I can travel faster than light doesn’t mean I can answer that question.”

I said, “I believe you, Lighty.” I thought reassuring him might persuade him not to consider hanging up.

Lighty responded, “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

I asked Lighty, “I need to get a message to your planet leader (I was presuming they had a hierarchy of sorts). Is that possible?”

There was about five seconds of silence. We thought Lighty had hung up but then he said, “Sorry about that. The light beam you should talk to was in Asia. I had to go get him. Would have been back sooner but it took me a few seconds to convince him to come.”

All I could say was thanks. Now what I had to say to Lighty’s leader would best be said in private. Thayer took me to his office where he put me on another line.

Lighty’s Leader: “How can I help you?”

“I work for some people from the far future, a thousand years or more in the future. Apparently, as best as they can tell, you and your cohorts quit coming to earth after 1999. Would you care to speculate on why that might happen?”

Lighty’s Leader: “I have no idea, but I can hazard a guess.”

“I’m all ears.”

Lighty’s Leader: “We probably just got bored. We have short attention spans.”

“Would you be open to the idea that a few of you would continue visiting earth on a semi-regular basis after 1999?”

Lighty’s Leader: “You bet. I might just make Lighty stay here permanently.”

I heard a groan in the background.

I thanked LL and went back to the studio. It was a few minutes after 3 am, the show was over, and Thayer was straightening things up.

I said to him, “Mission Accomplished.”

It was now 3:30 AM and Thayer and I were talking in his small office.

Thayer: “That was a great interview. I didn’t believe a word you said, of course. And that crazy guy who called himself Lighty. What a loon.”

I responded, “You’re quite the skeptic. Are you just in it for the money?”

Thayer looked hurt, “What money? I operate on a wing and a prayer.”

“You could be quite successful, but I think you’ll have to be more open minded.”

Thayer shot back, “But it all sounds crazy to me. I just do it because I love radio and no self-respecting radio station will give me a job. I had to start my own radio program.”

“You certainly got your own unique niche. Have you ever thought about going coast to coast?”

I got up and left with Thayer pondering my question.

When I emerged from the Okefenokee swamp, it was breakfast time. I stopped at the same café I had eaten at the day before. It wasn’t nearly as busy as it was then. I sat in a booth looking out on a corn field. As I ordered breakfast, a man slid into the other side of the booth. He looked familiar.

He said, “I sat with you yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You don’t recognize my voice?”

It was Lighty, the friendly sentient light beam (FTL).

It was my turn to ask, “How did you connect me to the guy on the radio last night?”

Lighty responded, “I followed you around yesterday. Had a feeling about you. Like you were a man out of his time.”

Maybe Lighty was smarter than I thought.

“Well, Lighty, I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve been wanting to ask a FTL some questions.”

Lighty took a sip of his coffee, “You go right ahead.”

“As far as we can tell, you FTLs started coming to earth in the years 1945-1947, which coincides with the development of the atomic bomb. Is there a connection?”

Lighty answered, “To be totally transparent.” He stopped talking and laughed. I later found out this little phrase was typical of FTL humor.

He continued, “We’ve been passing by earth and the solar system for thousands, if not for millions, of years. Our typical routes take us straight through the sun. When passing by earth, we noticed something different from most planets. It was blue, our favorite color. That’s when we thought to ourselves: t his planet has potential. Let’s keep an eye on it.”

Lighty paused. He seemed to be collecting his thoughts. He wasn’t used to talking at such length. A being that normally moves faster than light also will communicate faster than light. The speed of human speech can’t compare. Now I knew why I had underestimated the intelligence of the FTLs. In communicating with human beings, they had to slow their thought processes so they could speak intelligibly to humans. That gave the impression of not being as smart as they really were.

There were thirty seconds of silence before Lighty resumed talking. I respected that silence because I speculated during that amount of time, Lighty might have thousand of other thoughts he had to categorize, label and store in whatever miracle of a brain that resided in his head.  Once that process was complete, he went back to human speech.

He continued, “Over the millennia we produced some spectacular sights in the sky. One of your most cherished books, the Bible I think you call it, records a few of those events, especially one about two thousand years ago.”

The waitress arrived with our orders and a few minutes of silence were in order as we ate our breakfast.