By John Cosper

And to think people once got upset about the Indians.

The FTA team took only minutes clearing the shelves at the back of my store. Where once sat the city's most diverse section of science fiction movies, I saw mostly empty shelves. A few titles remained: Flatliners, Timeline, Logan's Run, Terminator. Well, at least a few good titles remained.

The blonde kid with the crew cut approached his superior. "Sir, all contraband is now locked and secure."

The chief's green antennae twitched. He stroked one of his long facial tentacles and turned his gaze to the comedy section. "You forgot one section."

Crew cut and his fellow grunts moved quickly, removing the offensive materials from comedy: Mars Attacks, Spaceballs, both Men In Black films. I found it amazing that none of the customers nor employees paid any heed to the representatives of the Federal Tolerance Administration, especially their non-human commander. The whole process took less than fifteen minutes from the moment they walked into my store.

Efficient. Those green boogers pride themselves on always being efficient.

Satisfied that all the offensive materials were now in his possession, the chief turned his red eyes on me. He clicked a few buttons on his electronic clipboard, then handed it over with green, fuzzy hands. "Sign, please."

I sign some of my favorite movies away on the touch screen as the chief's antennae flicked in a pleased motion. "Thank you. This video rental outlet is now in full compliance with the Federal Tolerance Act of 2012. You can expect quarterly surprise inspections to ensure compliance continues. First offense is punishable with a five thousand dollar fine. Second offense may result in forfeiture of your business license."

"No one wants that," I assure him.

The green man signaled the blonde kid, who touched the ignition button on the mobile incinerator. It only took seconds to turn over two thousand dollars in inventory - not to mention great movies - into cinders. Soon as the green button lit to signal a successful operation, the chief walked for the door, followed by his team.

"Good riddance!" My co-worker Jamie had held her tongue during the entire FTA visit, though I knew her remarks were not for the FTA. Jamie was a bright, beautiful girl with one flaw: she hated science fiction with all her heart.

"It's not right," I answered. "It's censorship and political correctness run amok."

Jamie shrugged. "Yeah. Still, better your movies than mine."

"One day the broken hearted will rise up against romance films, and on that day, we'll see what you have to say!"

The remark earned the laugh I anticipated. I needed it as much as she, having seen so many of my favorite films destroyed. At least I still had my private collection at home. Star Wars, Star Trek, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Alien, Buckaroo Banzai, Plan 9 From Outer Space, War of the Worlds, The X-Files, V... I could make thousands if I put them up on the black market. But why would I give up my favorite movies?

Why? Because someone had to come from a planet far, far away and take offense.

How did we get to this point? It was just five years ago they landed, refugees from a solar meltdown that left their home world destroyed. It was the Chinese, not the West, that took the few pot shots at their flying saucers as they came to land. When the peaceful intentions of our "new allies" became known, the entire world community scraped and bowed for forgiveness, knowing that by doing so, they would gain access to thousands of millions of years worth of technological innovations.

It wasn't enough we had to kiss their butts, grant them citizenship, give them the state of Oregon, and even elect a few into office, where their efficiency cut through miles of red tape to actually get things done for the good of America. Having looked into our history and seen other racial groups gain reparations, the aliens decided what was good for one oppressed group was good for another. Aliens and alien sympathizers began speaking out against the film and literary world. Humankind was guilty of pre-hate: hatred towards an unknown, yet to be discovered racial class. And being found guilty, something had to be done/

"How dare we assume that aliens would come as vicious, deadly killers bent on destroying the human race," a sexy blonde on my college campus cried out during an anti-sci-fi protest. "Our alien siblings have come bringing love and technology. And they have brought us shame for our paranoid, alienphobic hate!!"

Thus, the International Tolerance Treaty was signed at the United Nations in 2011. By 2012, the Federal Tolerance Act was signed into law. Less than a month, the fires began. Books, videos, posters, toys, T-shirts, comics, video games, and anything else that might conceivably portray aliens as less than the peace-loving, green techno geniuses we all met that fateful day.

I stood beside my English professor Dr. Moore three days before my college graduation as our campus succumbed to the alien bonfire craze.

"You know," she said, "Another group of people burned books a century ago. They were called Nazis."

No one seemed to hear or care. I guess torching Planet of the Apes wasn't perceived to be a threat to civilization.

I left work that night around seven, driving my classic '06 Charger the opposite direction from home. I felt pretty secure no one would be following me, else they might have found it suspicious that a video store owner would visit another establishment dealing videos. In this case, however, the store in question sold clothing, and few knew about the secret room downstairs.

From her post behind the sales counter, Miriam beamed her bright smile as I walked in the door. "Can I help you?"

I nodded. "I was just came down from Toshii Station to pick up some power converters." The code phrase wasn't necessary because I came here enough, but it was just too fun.

Miriam pressed a button under the counter, unlocking dressing room number three. I walked to the door and pushed it open, then pushed through the beaded curtain at the back.

The rear room of Outer Limits was dimly lit. A small TV in the corner played an old episode of The Twilight Zone. It was one of my favorites that day, the one with the "disfigured" woman receiving plastic surgery. Beside the TV, my buddy Tyler was totally engrossed in the show.

"You got my message," he said.

"I did," I answered. "Where is it?"

Tyler leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "You signed the FTA's dirty little contract today. It's online, time coded and everything."

"You think I had a choice?" I replied. "I have ten employees to think of. I can't be taking crazy risks."

Tyler hesitated a moment, still feeling me out. These were dangerous times, and violating the FTA was incredibly risky. Likewise, the rewards offered for ratting out violators were terribly attractive. Just to show I'm serious, I bring the wad of cash out of my pants pocket, and set it on the counter.

"If I give you this," said Tyler, "And you know how priceless it is, what assurances do I have you won't incinerate it?"

"Tyler, it's me," I said. "Besides, if I destroy it, you have collateral."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my rare, custom Diana action figure from the old TV series V. I set the figure on the counter, as Tyler's eyes dazzle.

"Yeah," said Tyler. "You're still one of us." He reached under the counter and pulled out one of the most offensive movies ever made, per the FTA.

"Predator," I said.

"Hi-Def, widescreen," Tyler added. "And the last thing in the world you want your greenie neighbor to see. They hate that one."

Boy did I know it. Arnold Schwarzenegger was a simple vote in the Senate away from having the Constitution amended so he could run for office. Then THEY came, and the great thespian was sent into exile on Oahu. There were others, of course. Lucas, Spielberg, Sigourney Weaver. One could only imagine the kind of home movies that were being made on the Hawaiian island.

"Not to worry," I said. "The greenies are not that bright. I've got one down the hall, has no clue the kind of movies I watch every night."

"You're kidding!" said Tyler. "One's in your building?"

"I know," I said. "The world's getting a little too crowded."

The truth was Athor was not a bad neighbor. He was quite friendly, and respectful of those humans not "enlightened" enough to be totally accepting that he kept out of there way. It was quite refreshing given the "We're green, on the scene, so don't be mean" activist line heard too often these days.

I stopped to pick up some dinner on my way home. The food bag provided adequate cover for the movie as well. It proved to be a smart call, as Athor was taking the garbage out when I arrived.

"Hi neighbor!" He beamed a happy, green smile at me flourished with a wave.

"Athor, how are you?"

"Oh, same old, can't complain. The sun isn't boiling away, and I'm glad to be alive." Athor fancied himself to be quite funny, but mostly his jokes were a subtle reminder that he wanted pity for being a refugee from a dying world.

"Yeah, another beautiful day in paradise," I said. I juggled my keys in one hand, searching for the apartment key. Athor followed me up.

"So how did your inspection go?" Athor asked. "You had your visit from the FTA, right?"

I nodded. "They were quick and efficient."

"Oh, I expect they were," Athor buzzed on. "They've been kind enough to let our people lead those inspection teams, and that's what we do. We're technically advanced, and we're efficient!"

"Yeah," I say. "I believe it."

What happened next, I still wish I could tell accurately. Dinner and a movie were in one hand, the hand closest to Athor. As I reached the top of the steps leading to our floor, Athor fell - or did he jump? Regardless, his head connected with my bag, and everything hit the stairs.

My heart stopped.

"Much apologies, friend!" Athor picked himself up quickly. "Here I brag about efficiency and technology, and I can't manage the primitive tool called steps."

He moved so quickly - and yes, efficiently - down the steps, gathering the torn bag, the box of food and--

"Friend... what's... what is this?!?!?"

"Athor, I can explain..." I couldn't, but what else do you say at a time like that?

"You signed the agreement! And you come home with this?"

"That's not mine!"

"It fell out of your bag!" Athor was waving the movie in my face now. "Where did you get this?"

"No where," I insisted.

Athor grabbed me by the arm, man-handling - or whatever it's called when a green alien handles you - me into his apartment. He slammed the door behind him and pushed me into a rather uncomfortable plastic chair, directly across from his technologically advanced tri-d television.

"Shame on you!" Athor screamed. "Shame on your children, should you be fortunate to have them as so many of my relatives never will!"

I was not in the mood for an alien pity party. "Athor, it's only a movie. We never knew you all then!"

"You just assumed we would be terrifying creatures with a blood lust! That all, right?"

"Come on!" I stood up now. "You're telling me that you never made movies on your home planet about hostile aliens taking over your planet?"

"No!!" Athor shouted. "First of all no one would want our planet. And second, we always hoped aliens would be friendly and save us because, oh yeah, our planet was doomed!"

He looked down at the video. His antennae pricked up as he looked back into my eyes. "You have more, don't you?"

Aw crap.

Athor was in the hallway quickly, scooping my keys off the floor as he headed for my apartment. "I hope I don't find what I think is in here, friend!"

I rushed into the other room, knowing full well I was screwed. My movie collection was hidden, but it was too large to hide well. Athor was on a crusade. Maybe it was a set up; it was all too fast to tell. My only concern now was talking Athor down, saying what he wanted to hear, and keeping him from reporting me to the FTA.

A mournful cry rose from the bedroom. He found it. A stash of over one hundred great movies highlighting evil aliens, invasions, body snatchers, apocalyptic weapons, and intergalactic Armageddon. Athor was slumped to the floor, a sobbing mess, betrayed by a neighbor he loved.

"How could you? Knowing I am only a few steps down the hall."

I could play this game. "Athor, I know the law, but I never realized how much... this hurt!"

An orange tear swelled out of his eyelet, then rolled down the tentacle growing out his left cheek. "We love you. We are so grateful for your kindness at giving us a new place to live. And yet, you harbor such ill feelings."

I sighed. "It's not a personal thing, Athor. These aliens..." I picked up a sample movie box. "These are not you. If anything, they might be a common enemy we face together one day."

His lip quivered, his antennae drooped miserably.

"But I can see that's not so easy to understand."

"Apparently, the suffering of my race is equally hard to grasp."

The words sunk deep in my heart. In a blink of an eye, I was no longer trying to say the right words to get my way. I was beginning to understand.

"I guess it is hard," I said. "You come here, you find out we've been dreaming about you for years, and most of our thoughts have been violent."

"And we abhor violence," Athor said. "The world we came from was a violent rage of fury, victimized by a sun in it's death throes."

"Athor," I said. "I've never really thought about it from your side. Believe me, I really don't mean to hurt anyone."

Athor wiped the orange liquid from his face. "Prove it. Destroy these films."

I looked at my treasure trove. Could I really love this creature enough to destroy my favorite possessions?

"And another thing," said Athor. "Whoever your supplier is, they must be reported."

Tyler? Miriam? I couldn't. "Athor--"

"They are friends. I understand." Athor stood up. "We are friends, are we not?"

"I'd like to think so." I meant it.

"Then you have three days. Seventy two hours exactly. I will not go to the FTA if you go first. Turn in your supplier, and destroy your tapes. Please, for the future good of both our races."

And he left.

What a choice. On one hand were two friends - human friends - whom I had known most of my life. They trusted me, and somehow... I was on the verge of betraying them. There was a reward for turning them in. But how could I accept money for that?

On the other hand was Athor. He was new. He was different than I. But was that enough to choose against him? Add to that he had the law of the land - of the world - on his side.

Jamie could tell I had something on my mind the next day at work. She always saw through me on my darker days. "What is it?" She finally asked, hours before my deadline.

"Nothing I can talk about, Jamie," I told her.

She nodded. "Whatever it is, follow your heart."

I looked at her, curious to know the origin of that advice. She went back to her work. "That's what my grandma always says to me. Follow your heart."

Truth be told, my heart told me aliens were no good from day one. I had seen enough movies to know how evil they could be. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe I was conditioned by hate-filled films, not unlike the ones Himmler made that led to the rise of the Nazi party. Perhaps I was wrong, and, like Christian slave holders in the nineteenth century south, it was time to confess my sin and repent.

I left work early, eager to set things right. That, and I was afraid that too much thought might lead me to rationalize my evil bias. I knew I would have hard nights, wishing to see Princess Leia strangle Jabba the Hutt one more time. But in the long run, I would be the better person.

Athor called from inside the apartment when I knock. "Who's there?"

"It's me, Athor," I said.

"Oh hey! Hold on a sec." I held until he beckoned me to enter and make myself at home. The place was neat, as usual, and the tri-d was on. I saw an alien face I didn't recognize on the paused display, and a small, spinning icon at the bottom of the screen. It was an all alien channel, which was news to me. I'd never known there to be an aliens-only channel, so I figured I would give it a whirl.

I unpaused the television.

"...reports from the western spiral settlers are very positive. The people of Earth, as they call it, proved to be easier to manipulate than even our best experts predicted."

What?

"As planned, the settlers have convinced the Earthlings that they are refugees from a dead planet."

The crowd gathered to hear the speech laughed. This broadcast was coming from Athor's home world... and it looked anything but boiled to a crisp.

"The settlers have also played on the bleeding-heart, liberal sentiments of some Earth people to eliminate all anti-alien propaganda in their culture."

I look behind me, making sure Athor's not creeping up with a laser gun to do me in. The alien politician continues.

"We knew the Earth people were ready for a hostile alien takeover, but their senses are dulled. In a matter of weeks, the settlers will strike, and then we can begin colonizing our new community on Earth."

The truth was out. So what was I to do with this new information?

"Follow your heart." The sci-fi hater was right.

I made sure the receiver was recording. It was. By the time Athor came out of his bedroom, I had the technologically-advanced receiver unplugged, lifted over my head, ready to crash down on his green head. I kicked his limp body a few times, but Athor didn’t love. One swing, one blow and Athor was dead, proving once again the incomparable efficiency of the aliens and their technology.

I left the apartment building and headed out, debating whether to go to the authorities with this new evidence, or the anti-alien underground. Maybe the lying greenies would conquer Earth. Maybe we'd stop them. Facing the sunset, I only knew one thing for sure that day.

Come hell, high water, or invasion, Tyler and Miriam and I were watching Predator that night.

Copyright 2005 by John Cosper