Fine Mendelian Stuff

They're finally getting respect....

FINE MENDELIAN STUFF 3, 179 words

By David Perlmutter

I.

It was the middle of winter in the sector where the Mendelians dropped Pataki off to perform her appointed duties.

But she didn’t mind.

Being away from Earth, for her, was not a huge loss, ever since she had been recruited by the aliens as a courier. However, the climate of the distant planet where the alien race hailed from was far different from Earth’s, and that included not having anything remotely resembling winter as part of the forecast.

Fortunately, Pataki had managed either to scavenge the clothes she would need (illegally, by the terms of Earth) or had told her superiors what she might need in that way to assist her on this particular mission. Therefore, she was ready and prepared when they dropped her off at the appointed time, in the snowbound northern United States she had once, reluctantly, called home.

Dressed in self-warming, insulated thermal pants, an outer jacket made of heat-absorbing fiber, a thickly knitted sweater, a round toque resembling a wooden yarmulke, and ankle-high boots made of the finest leather available on the planet Mendelia, Pataki took a moment to take in the surroundings.

Being as it was late December, in the lazy do-nothing zone between Christmas and New Year’s Day, there was little traffic, and very few pedestrians, so she had not been observed at the time she had been placed on Earth by the aliens’ sophisticated matter transmission transporter.

That was a good thing, for, if people had seen her as she touched back down to Earth, her cover would have been blown, and it would be lights out, not only for her, but the numerous other human child couriers the aliens counted on to perform the errands that had been set aside for them to perform on Earth.

Having fully absorbed the chill of the winter wind, despite the best efforts of her alien clothing to resist it, Pataki muttered a chilly expletive under her breath and moved on, as her long blonde tresses, sticking out from either end of the toque, caught the snow as it came down upon her.

II.

The Mendelians were a race of aliens who were unable to set foot on Earth themselves, so they had never been seen there, although their reputation on the planet was considerable and fierce enough that terrestrial domestic intelligence agencies across the planet were as on guard for them as they were for the rest of their standard terrorist-of-the-month targets. The reason they had never set foot on Earth was not because they sought the residents of the planet were beneath them (as their enemies were quick to attest) but because they literally could not breathe the planet’s very air. Mendelia’s air was based in carbon dioxide, whereas Earth’s was based in oxygen, and, therefore, despite failed attempts to create a breathable portable atmosphere source, Earth was a no-go area in terms of mobility.

The complication came in the fact that the Mendelians, like all alien species, coveted the bounteous commercial creations which Earth seemingly produced with ease, in a way other alien species deeply envied. So they had a problem. How were they to buy (which was highly unlikely anyway, given their reputation on the planet) or, more likely, steal such goods to satisfy their needs?

The answer came in targeting a specific specter of Earth’s population, one which had no social or emotional connection to the mainstream, and, thus, no shame or guilt felt when said mainstream was royally ripped off. Criminals. Or, more specifically, that particularly young and feisty type long known to the public derisively as “juvenile delinquents”.

The Mendelians did this because they valued their own young highly. They had a biological structure that allowed them to mature physically and mentally at a much faster rate than any Earth human possibly could, and they resented the fact that Earth could not show the same level of respect to their young as Mendelia did to its own. What was the matter with them, classifying all the youth of certain age as being the “same”, in their educational system with its arbitrary system of “grades”, when it was clear that only some of them were worthy of holding honored positions in the larger community and others, by Mendelia’s standards, deserved to be executed because they were mentally “worthless”?

They particularly felt sorrow for those termed to be “delinquents”. Why, they wondered, did Earth consider these creatures “bad” for performing acts that had simply become necessary to their survival, particularly those in impoverished circumstances? Did they not understand the psychological guilt they were putting the children through by labeling them as “criminals”? On Mendelia, crime was a philosophical concept and not a legal one; a simple, fair accounting of the facts on both sides was used, not the heatedly personal system Earth seemed to favor. The aliens favored allowing those among them to prove their worth to the larger society rather than imposing unrealistic punishments and imprisonments. Therefore, they sought to “correct” the mistakes made by Earth’s legal system by employing these discarded “delinquents” with work for which they and the aliens would be well compensated, in more than one way.

Since they could not enter Earth’s atmosphere themselves, the Mendelians developed a class of robots that could breathe oxygen to disseminate their message. They went wherever the delinquents of Earth were said to “hang out”: orphanages, broken homes, pool halls, arcades, shops that served as prime targets for petty thievery. Terms and conditions were outlined to potential candidates, and many accepted. Some were attracted by the fact that the weather on Mendelia was warm enough that they could play their favorite summer sports and do their favorite summer deeds on a regular basis during their off-hours. For others, it was simply the kindness they felt the Mendelians were offering them by offering them food, room and board and a regular paying job for the first time in their lives, since neither family, so-called “friends” or the institutions of commerce and law where they hailed from had given them neither respect as human beings beyond seeing them as part of larger stereotypes and categories. Either way, it worked. Soon, the Mendelians had a dozens-strong network of couriers, travelling clandestinely into Earth’s urban center, and robbing the commercial businesses of their stock of goods, the better to be enjoyed by their “pals”, the Mendelians. A win-win situation for all involved, except the adult Earthlings.

Which was precisely the point of it all.

III.

So Pataki was part of a thing larger than her, and one that would be completely understanding of things were she not able to accomplish her goal, given the circumstances and peculiarities related to both of their situations. But she had not failed a mission yet, and she was not about to disappoint her patrons-her only real friends in the world, she believed- by not coming through again.

She made her way up the deserted, snow-covered streets of the small town until she arrived at the place she was supposed to “knock off”: an upscale men’s clothing store. This was part of the plan: get the delinquents to steal things the Mendelians needed and wanted, like fine Earth clothing, and they would give the delinquents fine Mendelian equivalents of the same material in turn. The delinquents, having come from deprived backgrounds, were genuinely delighted to receive anything as a show of love or respect as a ”gift”, since they had been given none before. Pataki was particularly taken with the gifts given her, as, while they weren’t entirely up to the superior standards of Earth, the emotional worth much outweighed the actual physical objects in her mind. Besides, they were much better than the knuckle sandwiches she had once received as “gifts” from her overbearing, alcoholic parents, and was now accustomed to giving as “gifts” to the few of her peers who dared cross her now.

On arriving at the shop window, she bluntly cursed. The place was locked as tight as a drum. Getting out her Mendelian cellphone, made from some of the planet’s finest ebony, she hit the speed dial and got her masters immediately.

“I made it,” she hissed into the phone, softly, in the exceedingly rare case in this situation that she might be overheard. “But the place is shut. No way of getting in or out easy. What’d you think I should do?”

“It’s a shop, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Has it got one of those big picture windows up at the front?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I think you know what to do.”

Pataki slapped herself on the forehead with her free hand, in a gesture that implied that she could’ve had a V8. “Of course! Man, I am such a bonehead.”

“You devalue yourself with such comments, Pataki.”

“Let’s not get into that again, okay? I’m fine with who I am, and you are, too. That’s all that the both of us need. I’ll let you know when I get out with the stuff.”

She signed off and put the phone back into the pocket of her pants. Then she looked around the area near the sidewalk, searching for the particular object she would need to execute the burglary she and the Mendelians planned for. Was there such an object on the ground?

Yes. Yes, there was.

Only she didn’t realize it until she kicked it and hurt her foot, which encouraged her to do another round of cursing, unprompted.

It was a rock. A rock that was frozen onto the ground, and one that took several attempts and most of her strength to pry loose. But it was worth it. It was about the exact size and shape of the baseballs she was used to hurling around with in games with her peers back on Mendelia. So it was no problem for her to wind up and let it go into the window. The giant picture window with the business’ name on it in gold plated lettering splintered easily, creating a hole wide enough for Pataki’s entire diminutive body to enter and exit, unannounced. And she did proceed to enter it, unannounced.

Working stealthily, she pulled out some plastic bags, and swiftly began to put suit jackets and pants, white shirts, ties, socks, underwear and shoes into them, as much as could possibly be held within the limited confines of the bags. It was all done without comment or reflection. Despite her youth, Pataki was a seasoned veteran when it came to thievery of all kinds, which was precisely why she had been approached by the Mendelians in the first place. Unlike many of her peers, who had been branded “delinquents”, and therefore, criminals, on the basis of petty, fabricated or flimsy cases or evidence, Pataki had an actual “record”, and was more than willing not only to perform her own duties, but assist others who seemingly had troubles with theirs.

Work done, she then prepared to go. But then….

Somehow or another, she tripped over the wire that triggered the store’s alarm system, which proceeded to bellow loudly as if all hell had broken loose.

“Damn it!” Pataki cursed to herself. “I gotta get out of here.”

So she did.

Unfortunately for her, the alarm was loud enough to cut through the night like a knife, even if she hadn’t busted the window. And, in these places, news and events travel fast on the rare occasions they actually happened there. She ran as fast as she possibly could, but her burden conspired to wear her down long before she arrived at the arranged rendezvous point. And so, the local police- what there was of such an institution in such a small place- abruptly found and caught her.

IV.

In other circumstances, human beings blessed with being gifted with alien technology might have gained superhuman strength, magical powers, or other means to defy the logical order to things on planet Earth, and therefore to defy and counterattack the way the law worked there.

Pataki was not that lucky.

Her cellphone, despite it having the same abilities as any other phone of its kind in the galaxy, was just that, and her alien clothing was not the kind that granted superhuman abilities to the wearer- not unless above-average protection from chilly winter winds counted.

So she had to sit and take it as the local authorities poked and prodded her about things for a while. Her standard response to each question posed was either “I ain’t saying nothing!” or telling the asker of the question to perform sexually-based acts that are technically impossible to perform. And so, it was necessary for the local authorities to defer to a higher power as to what could and should be done.

All that needed to be said was the fact that a young girl wearing Mendelian clothing was apprehended in such and such a town on such and such an evening at such and such a time, and soon all manner of federal investigators and authorities, all with conflicting agendas and intentions for speaking or dealing with the “alien”, had descended, unannounced and uninvited, on such and such a town.

It did not matter to Pataki if the various interrogators she faced in the following hours were FBI, CIA, Homeland Security or some other U.S. government alphabet soup cabal. She gave them the same “I ain’t saying nothing!” or profane responses in turn individually for several hours. Any threats or enticements they gave to her she brushed off. The Mendelians could punish me worse or reward me better than that, she said. Much better.

They kept at it, now together in the same room with her, trying to figure out why in the world she would betray the planet she came from, the planet that had raised and nurtured her to her current state of being, that she finally exploded. She got up and smacked the table in front of her with two balled fists, creating a powerful bang noise that terminated the interview in its tracks.

They tried to speak again, but she cut them off.

“God damn it!” she roared. “Shut up! Just shut the hell UP! I told you a million fucking times already. The Mendelians are my friends. They gave me all this shit I’m wearing now, and plenty more besides back where they come from, and I do, too, now. Fine Mendelian stuff! Stuff that ain’t worth a piss in the toilet compared to anything else from HERE! So, unless you got some stuff with some actual sense to it to ask me about why I’m schlepping around some inferior crap from Earth to earn my goodly-compensated keep on Mendelia, get the fuck out of my face and let me go back to my real home!”

They wouldn’t- not yet, anyway. The Homeland guy was furious, calling her a “fucking bitch” who needed a “damn good whacking” to see the error of her ways. Fortunately, the other agents pulled him out of the room and locked him out of it before he had a chance of acting on those threats.

The FBI agent, a woman, tried a softer tactic with Pataki. How was it, exactly, she wanted to know, that she got into this mess? Not the relationship with the Mendelians- that was very clear and well-defined from the outset. What was life like for her before then?

“You really want to know that?” Pataki asked. “I mean, really?”

She received an affirmative response.

“It ain’t pretty,” said the girl. “I had the bad luck to be the child of a couple who were the least qualified people to be parents in the world. And it was just them. No siblings, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents- nothing; if I did have ‘em, they were persona non grata in my parents’ lives long ‘fore I arrived. They were lushes. Always with the friggin’ bottles and glasses within reach. I’m lucky I didn’t end up with brain damage or something like that. So, as soon as I stopped being a stupid baby toddler type and got my own mind and feelings, I knew I had to go. I left as soon as I could, and the stupid bastards probably didn’t even notice I was gone.

“I learned how to handle myself right away. Never had any of that fancy book-learning since I was too much on the move to pursue stuff like that in one place. But I knew how to steal. And to fight if somebody already stole the stuff I wanted to steal. That’s how I got what I needed. Food, clothes, you name it. Sometimes I might crash in some orphans’ home for a while, but those places are run with such tight-assed rules that you can’t really be yourself. Besides, what was the point if I was just going to be assigned to some family out for themselves I happened to momentarily charm and beguile into adopting me? And who’d disown me the exact New York minute I turned eighteen, and kick me out just as soon as they turned me in? No fucking way. So I was in and out wherever and whenever I wanted to be. Sure, I got caught a couple of times, but you law and order folks are so sympathetic to making sure we kids get treated “fairly” that it was just slap on the wrist stuff, nothing else.

“But then, here’s the kicker. Here’s this notice, see, that I find posted up around one of the places where I’m hanging around, and it says that they want to hire people who can steal. Better yet, they want kids like me, rather than adults or teenagers, who the paying jobs go to. Better yet still, they are willing to pay me for it, and give me an actual home on a lovely planet where you never have to deal with shitty cold weather like this, and gifts of things like the stuff I’m wearing, just for showing up and being me. That’s a hell of a lot more than anyone on Earth ever gave me, I’m telling you.

“And you all got the nerve to tell me that Earth is my real home, just ‘cause I happen to be a human being? Fuck that! Home is where you’re appreciated for who you are and what you can bring to a community. The Mendelians can’t come down to Earth to do their shopping ‘cause they can’t breathe Earth air, and most people think here think bad of them anyhow as it is. But they ain’t bad, at all. They’ve been a ton better to me and my fellow couriers than any goddamn people on Earth could ever be.

“Now, I’m getting sick and tired of this interrogation bullshit. So, unless you all want to get socked in the jaws real good, you better get out of my way and let me go back to my real home. Understand?”

They did, completely, and let her go home.

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