I, Justin James, had to chronicle the events of my time spent with a visitor from Saturn before the memories slipped into the mists and alleyways of my mind--wherever forgotten facts and experiences go. Yes, it’s true; like any typical college student, I had been on a drunken weekend bender. But I honestly don’t think that had anything to do with my meeting the alien. Well, I don’t want to believe intoxication was relevant. The following narrative recounts my extraordinary experience helping out a neighbor from another planet.

   He came up to me on a Sunday afternoon as I left the laundromat and piled my clean clothes in the back of my beat-up Honda. He had a very square face, no evidence of whiskers, and startling, turquoise-colored eyes. As he approached me, it seemed his gait was off: He walked like he had a stick up his nether port. 

   “May I trouble you for a ride?” he inquired somewhat formally.

   “Sure. Where do you want to go?” He named a city hundreds of miles and a state or two away. I blinked, stammered saying, “Well, that’s a ways away and I have ah…things to do today." Like drinking more beer, falling asleep watching sports on TV, putting my clean clothes away…

   “I will pay you handsomely for fuel and for your time. My name is Gorn.” He stuck out his hand inviting a handshake.

  “Is that a first or a last name?” I shot back but l shook his outreached hand and gave him my full name. 

   “How much we talkin’ about?” I was always short on cash, and suddenly interested in the proposition.  Gorn had dangled the right bait for me.

   “Excuse me?” Gorn asked looking confused. 

   “How much will you pay me to drive you to your desired destination? Which, by the way, is in Utah,” I spit out, wondering why anyone would want to go there.

   “Would five thousand dollars cover the cost of your service?”

   Shocked, I stammered again and said, “Ah well. Yeah. That might cover things,” nodding my head yes slightly. That amount would keep me in beer for a while or buy the books for the rest of my college career if I didn’t drink it all away.

   "When do you want to leave?" Of course, he said now, but I talked him into going to my place first so I could pack a bag. He didn't have any suitcases or carry-ons. He wore what I considered the uniform of refuse collectors—a onesie or one-piece coverall.  He did have a wide belt with a thick buckle with six knobs on it. As I was stowing my gear for the trip, I turned to him and asked—

  “Wait a minute…did Christopher put you up to this? You’re an actor, right, playing a joke on me!” My thespian friend Christopher would have access to costumes like this fellow was wearing.

   Gorn clambered into the front passenger seat.  I got in behind the driver’s wheel.

   "I assure you I do not know anyone named Christopher. My offer is valid. I can give you the money now if you have doubts." He touched a button on his belt buckle, and a zipper opened above it. He reached in and pulled out greenbacks, all one-hundred-dollar bills, and handed them to me. With a touch of the same button, the zipper closed and disappeared. 

   I counted the bills, fingering them to make sure they were real. Held one up to the light. I’d only had a couple of beers for breakfast and shook my head as if to wake up from a dream. Well, the bills looked real enough.

   So we got on the road. I set up GPS Jane in Google Maps and we started the adventure. 

   This was going to be a long trip, so to be social, I enquired, “So where ya’ from?” That’s when things veered very south of reality.

   “I’m from Saturn.”

  “Ok, sure… and your business here, on Earth?” I played along.

   “I’m a scout. Scouts travel to other planets to see if any are viable for our…species.”

   “Viable for what? Conquest? Cannibalism? Trade? Interplanetary breeding?” I asked, thinking this guy must be certifiable.

   “Habitation.” Gorn didn’t elaborate.

   “I happen to know that Saturn doesn’t really have life. At least not as we know it. We’ve had spaceships checking it out.”

   “That is true, from your perspective. We live at a slightly higher vibration than you Earth people. You wouldn’t be able to detect us with your equipment. Or see us with your human eyes.”

   "Explain," I asked, somewhat fearing to get too deep into the delusions of the obviously mentally ill man. I recalled my Intro to Psych class and the warning about challenging delusional thinking.

  “All life is vibration. Your Albert Einstein revealed this. There is an infinite array of universes, and beings, each at a different rate of vibration. I can visit and survive here because of a device that lowers my vibrations. I will show you.” Gorn turned a different dial on his belt and suddenly was gone! No longer next to me in the car. 

   “What the heck!” I nearly ran the car off the road, craning my neck to see if he somehow jumped into the back seat when I was looking out the windshield. After a minute, Gorn reappeared.

   “No, that didn’t happen. Do that again.” He did and repeated the feat at least a half dozen times to convince me that he could indeed change his vibrations to a level where I couldn’t see him. He enlightened me that he was still in the car, but that my human eyes could not see him at his higher rate of vibration. 

   “So, there could be many Gorns walking around my planet and we wouldn’t know about it?”

  “Technically, yes, but I am the first from Saturn to scout your planet. But there are others.”

   “What others?”

   “Martians.”

   “Again, I know there’s no life on Mars. We’ve had rovers roving the planet for years.”

   “Vibrations, Justin. They live at a different rate of vibration than Earthlings, or Saturnines, for that matter. I don’t care for the Martians. They are an angry race, always warring with each other. They remind me of red Klingons. I’m a Star Trek fan,” he boasted. “My name really isn’t Gorn, I picked it up from that TV show. You wouldn’t be able to pronounce my real name.”

   He made a noise like a cat hacking up a hairball. “Our language is very back of the throat.”

   I presumed that the puking sound was his name. “What about the other planets in our solar system?” I wanted to hear what he would say.

   “Jupiter is home to complete airheads. They can’t get themselves organized to accomplish anything. Pluto, well my friend you don’t want to go there. They are not…. Humanoid. Or friendly. Very animalistic.  Venusians are an extremely cultured race of beings. I like their art. There are many Venusians in New York City—they love your Broadway shows. They remind me of your Grecian era.  

   “You seem to know a lot about my planet, for a visitor.”

   “I’ve been here a while. Besides, your planet has no compunction about blasting everything into space.  The average household has 21 entertainment and smart devices. That’s a lot of wavelengths bouncing around the planet and out into the solar system. You have a very noisy planet. Hard to miss. 

   “Have you scouted these other planets too?”

   “We’ve been scouting the entire solar system, so I have access to what my fellow scouts have recorded about the planets they have visited. As you say, I drew the short straw and was assigned to Earth. Scouts are consigned to one planet each.”

   “We don’t send anyone to Pluto… anymore," he added ominously.

   “How did you get here?”

   “Duh.” Gorn snickered. “In a spaceship. Unfortunately, our ships are one-way only. I have no ride back home.”

   “Right. Look, we need to stop for gas, and I’m getting hungry. Let’s get some food. A word to the wise: don’t do your disappearing wavelength act in the restaurant, please.”

   "Of course not. I have been exemplary at concealing my uniqueness so far as any good scout is trained to do. I just got tired of not being me and wanted to talk to someone, anyone about…well about everything. Thank you for the opportunity to be forthcoming."

   This guy’s not into self-reflection, I thought, if he believes he fits in. On that note, I gassed up the car at one of those gas station/restaurant combos, parked the car and we both went inside. I ordered a burger, fries, and coke, needing to keep my head clear. Gorn ordered a glass of water, no ice.

  “Can’t you eat Earth food?” I queried the self-identified alien.

   “We can pick something up for me later.”

  After the meal, I took one of those nice one-hundred-dollar bills and paid for my food. Once back in the car, Gorn fiddled with another knob on his belt, his eyes roving as if studying something I couldn’t see, then he gave me instructions for driving to get his special food. He took us to a fishing tackle and bait shop. 

   “You do not need to enter with me,” he simply said, then exited the car and went inside. He came out a few minutes later with a small white Styrofoam container. Once back in the car, he popped the plastic lid and emptied the full container of fat nightcrawlers into his mouth, dirt and all, swallowing without chewing.

   I responded by rapidly opening my car door and upchucking my entire meal.

   “They are closest to the high-value protein food of my planet,” Gorn justified.

   “Have you never tried bison?” I countered, taking a swig of water, and spitting out the window. “Dang.  Never do that in front of me again.”

   “I apologize. A little too much ‘real me’?”

   “Yeah.”

   “I prefer to not chew them. Their texture is …” Gorn waved a hand away from his body, “off-putting,” he finished.

   With this new information, I emitted an inadvertent final dry hurl. “God bless you,” the alien inaccurately responded.

   Once we were back on the road, I re-started a conversation by asking, “So, what do you think of Earth and Earthlings? What are you reporting back to headquarters?”

   “There is much beauty and diversity to your planet. It would be quite habitable for us, except for the humans. You are a little like the Martians. And the beings of Uranus. 

   “You hadn’t mentioned Uranus before. What are they like?” I seemed to have taken hold of the idea that all the planets in our solar system were inhabited on some wavelength. 

   “Have you ever watched the Mork and Mindy TV show? I love that show! Uranians were a lot like Mork.  I even wondered if the show’s writer was a scout from Uranus... Anyway, the beings of Uranus were excitable with a great sense of humor, but with alternating periods of depression. A seasonal affliction.  Bit of a waste really. Gorn clamped his lips together.

   Were. I got the impression there was a negative history between Saturnines and Uranians that he didn’t want to elucidate. “What’s the story on Uranus. I can tell there’s more. Don’t leave me hanging.”

   He sighed and continued: “They had miraculously achieved space travel. For a few eons we had trade and travel relations with the dominant species. But their instability led to a… a tragic end,” he finished.

   “What kind of tragic end?”

   “An extinction.”

   “What kind of extinction?”

   “A mass extinction,” he quipped quickly. His voice brightened then, “But they are bouncing back.  They’re at the amoeba stage right now. They’ll be fine.” He paused. “Eventually.”

   “Well if the planet’s open for the taking, why don’t you guys ‘habitate’ it?  You won’t have to deal with any pesky previous inhabitants.”

   “It’s not very hospitable—too cold, even at our higher vibration level. And frankly, it smells bad, like rotten eggs. And we haven’t figured out how to achieve a higher vibration to access a better climate there.”

   “Let’s get back to your scouting of Earth.”

   “I was prepared in advance—learned English and Spanish as the dominant languages. Each planetary penetration is planned carefully. My role is to insert myself into the society to learn about your culture, history, science, geography, weather patterns, technological achievements—everything. But I am not permitted to interfere or affect changes to your species’ evolution.  Like Star Trek!” he said enthusiastically.

   “But what do you think of us?”

   "Well, I knew from some of your broadcasts into space that Earthlings were engaging in rudimentary space travel."

   I quickly interrupted the alien— “at least we have spaceships that can return to Earth!” I boasted.

   “The one-way ship is intentional. Headquarters doesn’t want anyone abandoning their penetration posts. Scouts understand they will be consigned to their planets for the rest of their lives. The ship also self-destructs to leave behind no trace of the penetration.”

   “It’s very effective,” Gorn admitted.

   “When I arrived I watched a lot of television, read every newspaper and magazine available, learned to Google—I love Googling! And scanned and sent back to headquarters every book in your Library of Congress, not that your legislators actually use the wisdom there. My first impressions from these activities were that your species tends to do things without considering all the consequences, is quick to anger and insult, and is morally bankrupt.”

   "But I got a much better report for the homeworld when I joined a book club."

   “Say what? I thought you had already read every book available.”

   “It wasn’t the books. Your literary works are obsessed with themes of killing one another and the beginning stages of the reproductive process.”

   “Are you referring to romance novels?”

   “Yes. I confess I don’t understand the prolificness of these pre-reproductive stories. No, it wasn’t the novels studied in the book club that changed my mind about humans. It was the individual units of your species. The people, members of the club. They were very kind. They gave me rides, helped me to understand things, and baked brownies.”

   “You can eat brownies?” Why didn’t he order the lava cake at the restaurant? I could’ve kept my burger and fries!

   “Dark chocolate ones. They do remind me of the taste of Saturn soil.”

   “Didn’t the book club members think you were, ah… different?”

   “Oh yes. They thought I was either Autistic or a Comic-Con fan. I was also in New York City at the time.  I fit in fine there.” He turned to look at me to say, “And no, individuals with Autism are not Martians or other scouts. They are a new evolutionary thread in your line. Your future I project. So I made it a point to research and report on people. But not politicians,” Gorn quickly clarified. “They are not very representative of the average member of your species. I didn’t understand the word ‘irony’ until I studied politicians.”

   “That is the reason I met you. To further my examination of subsets of humans and their activities, I infiltrated your university. I have taken multiple classes with you.”

   “I never noticed you.”

   “No, you seemed preoccupied with the females in the room. Or ill—many days you showed up with red eyes.”

   “What did you learn in my classes?”

   “What is the saying?  Youth is wasted on the young, and…”

   I held up my hand and shook my head no to stop the alien right there. I didn’t want to hear his opinion of my generation. Especially if he was basing it on his impression of me.

   “I was just going to point out the peculiar preoccupation with violent games and sports.”

   “Why don’t you tell me about your species? Like how come you never take a crap?” I had to stop several times to use the restroom but Gorn remained seated in the car every time.

   “My suit removes body waste, refines, and recycles it. You’ve heard the term, zero waste, I believe? I am not to leave behind any DNA evidence that might uplift your gene pool.”

   “You mean taint, don’t you…”

   “Justin, my home world civilization was in place already hundreds of thousands of years when your progenitors were still swinging in the trees. We are quite advanced.”

   “Yeah, but you haven’t figured out a way to raise your vibrations. I know of a spiritual group that has simple spiritual exercises that do that.”

   “Similarly,” he went on ignoring my jibe, “I am not permitted to say much about my world to avoid influencing your evolution.”

   “But you’ve revealed to me that you’re from Saturn, and other information about your species and the others in our solar system. And I’ve seen some of what your technology can do. Who knows what I will do with the information? Maybe write and publish this whole adventure…”

   “I’m counting on your over-use of alcohol. Alcohol is a neurotoxin that can disrupt communications of the brain. It also affects the functions of brain cells. This can lead to intellectual impairment, headaches, memory loss, slowed thinking, slurred speech, and also trouble with balance and coordination,” Gorn recited as if reading from a short stack on the net. “You will likely have a bender, as you call it, and think meeting me was a bad dream.”  

   Dang, I hate it when aliens are right.

   We drove on for quite a while in silence. Gorn simply looked ahead. It was dark by now.

   “Do you want to stop for the night, or keep going? I mean, do you need to sleep… or plug yourself into an outlet to recharge or anything like that?”

  “I have periods of rest, yes.” 

   Around midnight, I used my phone to locate a no-tell motel and booked a single room with two double beds. I brushed my teeth, then laid down on one of the beds. Gorn methodically removed his shoes and socks, placing them neatly in front of the nightstand. He stretched out on top of the other bed. I noticed he had three well-spaced toes on each foot and felt sorry that he couldn’t hang out much at the beach.  He touched another button on his belt and his entire body was enveloped in a blue light that lit up the entire room. Eventually, I fell asleep.

   I was up at the crack of dawn and secured a biscuit and sausage sandwich, eating it before returning to the rented room. I wanted to avoid a joint dining scenario. Gorn was still on the bed. At exactly 7:00 a.m. the blue light shut off and he opened his eyes and got out of bed.

   “Did you sleep well?” Gorn asked politely.

   “I had trouble falling asleep. They say too much blue light before bed, well, you know…”  I didn’t finish the sentence because of not wanting to hurt his feelings--if he had feelings. “What’s with the blue light?”

   “The low vibrations of this world are hard on my body. The blue light repairs my body’s cells and molecular structure while I rest. Earth has the lowest vibrations of all the planets in the solar system.  Well, Pluto might beat you out by a hair.”

   “Don’t you have to recharge your belt buckle?”

   “It’s nuclear and has a longer operational life span than you.”

   “You’re carrying around a nuclear device?” I gasped. “Does that mean if we’re in a car accident, there could be a nuclear explosion?”

   “Yes, that is a possibility. You should drive carefully.”

   I rubbed my forehead with both hands. “Are we being irradiated or something? Can I still father children—if I want them later?”

   “The device is safe. The components are surrounded by a special casing composed of elements that refocus the emissions back to the nuclear material. It’s complicated. We have more advanced technology than you.”

   I sighed out loud. “Do you need ‘breakfast’’’ I enquired with fingered air quotes. I offered to find a bait and tackle shop stating that once we headed into desert territory I might not be able to find his preferred protein snack food.

   “I’m good, thank you.”

   “Then let’s get on the road.” 

   I drove us onward. After a bout of silence, Gorn said: “I’ve been honest with you about my scout mission, and where I’m from because even if you tell others about me, few will believe you. Just like no one believes people are taken up into spacecraft and experimented on.” He quickly added, “By the way, we don’t do that. That’s the Martians,” he proclaimed emphatically.

   He had a point there. If I shared anything about this caper I’d be branded a nut case. 

   We crossed into Utah before midday. The alien routed us to Bryce Canyon Park. The reddish spiral rock configurations sculpted by water, wind, and time looked, well, alien and other-worldly to me. This was confirmed when Gorn serenely said:

   “I feel so at home here. Utah is so much like home! Thank you for bringing me, and for your company.”  He asked me to drive down a service track that wound its way through the rock structures. “You can drop me off here.”

   I looked around. There was nothing here but rocks, sand, and more rocks and sand. Gorn got out of the car. I opened my door and got out, calling to him—

   “Hey, before you go, can I get a selfie?” I held up my phone. Gorn nodded. We stood side-by-side for the pic. I checked my photo album to make sure the pic was there. Gorn, with his eyes the color of the clear sky behind him, and me. 

   “I will have a good report this week, thanks to you. Live long and prosper. I’ve always wanted to fit that into a conversation!” he beamed.

   He walked a few steps, turned, waved to me, then proceeded into a canyon. I got back into my car and sat for five minutes, thinking he might change his mind and return to the car. He didn't. I drove away. I must have driven twenty miles but then had second thoughts. Gorn had no "food" or water with him.  Night would fall soon. Sure he had his blue light to protect him, but would that stave off a wild beast, rattlesnake, or scorpion? I turned the car around and drove back to where I had last seen him. I got out of the car and hiked to the split in the rocks where he disappeared. It was a narrow space between two giant rock outcroppings. The fissure led to a mini canyon hidden among the rock towers. I spotted something near a rock. Parked neatly at the base of a scrub bush was a pair of shoes with socks folded carefully inside. No onesie, belt buckle, and no Gorn in sight. No three-toed footprints leading away either. I sat on a rock warmed by the sun until darkness enveloped me. I looked up at the night sky, wondering which point of light was Saturn. Wherever Gorn went off to, I wished him well. Maybe he self-destructed like his ship. For some reason, I felt compassion for him, though I think he was proud of being a scout and performing his Earthly mission.

This is the end of my tale. And I swear I wasn’t taking anything medicinal or recreational. Everything happened just as written. Sadly, the selfie of Gorn and me must have been accidentally deleted during a beer pong contest with my buddies when I got back home. But I still had an expanded view of our solar system, and the infinite array of universes, beings, and the different rates of vibration separating them.  Some things just aren’t taught in classrooms. They have to be experienced.