Now, it happened that one of Luther’s three vehicles was a
70s vintage Chevy pickup truck. From where he was standing he could see its rear,
with the tailgate flapped open. He hadn’t
left it like that. Then he noticed that it was sitting way down like it had a
heavy load on board. It created questions in his mind. Luther strolled over to take a closer look. It looked okay,
just loaded.
‘You have questions,’ he thought he heard outside his own
thoughts.
“You could say that,” returned Luther. “Why not,” he thought, sort of out loud.
‘I noticed that you were awake,’ it came again. This time for sure.
“Who are you,” said Luther getting right down to cases. “Yeah, I’m awake. Too awake to think I’m dreaming.”
‘Why don’t you call me Morgan? The name my mother gave me would be hard for you to say,’ said Morgan. ‘I’m here because you have become aware of a problem, and you are a man with initiative. We can work with a man with initiative.’
“Okay, back up,” said Luther. “Who are you means more than your nickname. Also, I’m not used to speaking to invisible entities.”
‘I can fix that,’ said Morgan, ‘but you need to prepare yourself. This might be more than you bargained for.’
Slowly, a large figure appeared to solidify, sitting casually at the rear of the bed of the pickup. He was roughly human, but hairier and unclothed. He looked like about 500lbs and maybe 8ft tall. A rather amused looking large face with a broad flattish nose regarded Luther, waiting to see his reaction to the revelation. Luther took it pretty well. He kept breathing.
‘We call ourselves something that translates roughly to dwellers. We’re here, there and everywhere, but we don’t let on much. We’ve always lived right beside you materialists. Most of you couldn’t see us if we did show ourselves. Your species is blinkered like nobody’s business. I think a bucket on the head would be less opaque.
We are one species, for lack of a better word, who are agents of the Maker here on this planet. Actually, our Maker, yours and ours, has heard your prayers and so, here I am. You have a big problem, and I have an answer, if you will it.’
“Alright, okay, I’m listening, weird as that is,” said Luther. “Tell me what my problem is then. If you know how to fix it, you must be able to tell me what it is.”
‘I see that you are no fool Luther,’ said Morgan. ‘To put it briefly, your species is infected. But you are not infected by a natural parasite or bacterium. Your problem is that this infection is manmade. It was made to destroy by the hands of your fellow men. Some of you have been able to stave off the effects of it, but not to remove it entirely. It is a wickedness unique in all the ages of man.
The changes in character in your children and your friends is a symptom of this wicked thing. The faint glow on your wife’s face and pillow show that she is infected and contagious. As a matter of fact, Luther, so are you,’ said Morgan.
Luther was looking at his own hands and wrists for any sign when Morgan stopped speaking.
“You seem to know your stuff,” said Luther to Morgan. “I have to assume you mean God when you say Maker. So, how can you, as an agent of God, help us? I’m serious. I don’t see a lot of hope, in the natural course of events.”
‘Here’s the plan Luther! We’re going into business! You and me!’
“You're going to have to explain that slowly,” said our simple farmer.
‘Listen Luther! I have a recipe. This recipe is for a bottled hot sauce that people will cry for it. They will buy any of it they can get. The really nifty thing about this sauce is that it has a secret ingredient, which when combined with normal hot sauce ingredients will utterly destroy the manmade horrors growing in the blood of whoever will use the sauce. You’re going to end up a very rich farmer Luther, and you will save your people. Those who will use the sauce, that is.’
“Listen, I’m not sure I can do this Morgan. I’m not a business man. I want to help the people, but maybe you picked the wrong farmer,” said Luther.’
‘Listen. Try it. I’ll give you the recipe. You make some and use it, get your wife to use it. See if it works. Pass some out in regular jam jars to those girls up at the potato shed in Burlington! Send some to your kids! What can it hurt? See if they improve! Hey, I’ll be around if you need backup. Luther! You’re the man, believe me!’
“Maybe, maybe. I’d like to believe. But, hey, what is this secret ingredient? Is it hard to source?”
‘Here sit down Luther and I’ll tell you,’ said Morgan, patting the bed of the pickup.
‘The secret ingredient is one reason why you are the man. It is a ferment of red Pontiac potatoes. That’s it. The secret is potatoes. But it has to be this variety and you are the only farmer in the Skagit Valley, or most of the world, who grows this old variety and is aware enough to see me and hear me and take my help to heart. That’s it Luther. Are you in? Do you want to save your foolish, relatively hairless people one red potato at a time?’ Morgan put his big hand on Luther’s shoulder as they sat there, and he waited.
“Alright. I’m crazy. But yeah, I’m in. Sounds like I have some preserves to make, er sauce. But tell me this. How do you do that invisible bit?”
‘It’s not very complicated. Some of the colors that we are, are invisible to you. I can kind of turn on the colors your eyes and brain can read, and then you can see me. Well, some of you can see me. Some of you won’t, no matter what I do. I could throw rocks and trees at them, and they still wouldn’t see me.’
“Yeah, sure, but how do you do that,” said Luther.
‘I hold my breath and count to three. I can’t figure any other way to explain it Luther. To disappear I do the same on an inbreath. It sounds awful to you guys! Now you see me. Now you don’t! It’s just like breathing to me!’
“You could say that,” returned Luther. “Why not,” he thought, sort of out loud.
‘I noticed that you were awake,’ it came again. This time for sure.
“Who are you,” said Luther getting right down to cases. “Yeah, I’m awake. Too awake to think I’m dreaming.”
‘Why don’t you call me Morgan? The name my mother gave me would be hard for you to say,’ said Morgan. ‘I’m here because you have become aware of a problem, and you are a man with initiative. We can work with a man with initiative.’
“Okay, back up,” said Luther. “Who are you means more than your nickname. Also, I’m not used to speaking to invisible entities.”
‘I can fix that,’ said Morgan, ‘but you need to prepare yourself. This might be more than you bargained for.’
Slowly, a large figure appeared to solidify, sitting casually at the rear of the bed of the pickup. He was roughly human, but hairier and unclothed. He looked like about 500lbs and maybe 8ft tall. A rather amused looking large face with a broad flattish nose regarded Luther, waiting to see his reaction to the revelation. Luther took it pretty well. He kept breathing.
‘We call ourselves something that translates roughly to dwellers. We’re here, there and everywhere, but we don’t let on much. We’ve always lived right beside you materialists. Most of you couldn’t see us if we did show ourselves. Your species is blinkered like nobody’s business. I think a bucket on the head would be less opaque.
We are one species, for lack of a better word, who are agents of the Maker here on this planet. Actually, our Maker, yours and ours, has heard your prayers and so, here I am. You have a big problem, and I have an answer, if you will it.’
“Alright, okay, I’m listening, weird as that is,” said Luther. “Tell me what my problem is then. If you know how to fix it, you must be able to tell me what it is.”
‘I see that you are no fool Luther,’ said Morgan. ‘To put it briefly, your species is infected. But you are not infected by a natural parasite or bacterium. Your problem is that this infection is manmade. It was made to destroy by the hands of your fellow men. Some of you have been able to stave off the effects of it, but not to remove it entirely. It is a wickedness unique in all the ages of man.
The changes in character in your children and your friends is a symptom of this wicked thing. The faint glow on your wife’s face and pillow show that she is infected and contagious. As a matter of fact, Luther, so are you,’ said Morgan.
Luther was looking at his own hands and wrists for any sign when Morgan stopped speaking.
“You seem to know your stuff,” said Luther to Morgan. “I have to assume you mean God when you say Maker. So, how can you, as an agent of God, help us? I’m serious. I don’t see a lot of hope, in the natural course of events.”
‘Here’s the plan Luther! We’re going into business! You and me!’
“You're going to have to explain that slowly,” said our simple farmer.
‘Listen Luther! I have a recipe. This recipe is for a bottled hot sauce that people will cry for it. They will buy any of it they can get. The really nifty thing about this sauce is that it has a secret ingredient, which when combined with normal hot sauce ingredients will utterly destroy the manmade horrors growing in the blood of whoever will use the sauce. You’re going to end up a very rich farmer Luther, and you will save your people. Those who will use the sauce, that is.’
“Listen, I’m not sure I can do this Morgan. I’m not a business man. I want to help the people, but maybe you picked the wrong farmer,” said Luther.’
‘Listen. Try it. I’ll give you the recipe. You make some and use it, get your wife to use it. See if it works. Pass some out in regular jam jars to those girls up at the potato shed in Burlington! Send some to your kids! What can it hurt? See if they improve! Hey, I’ll be around if you need backup. Luther! You’re the man, believe me!’
“Maybe, maybe. I’d like to believe. But, hey, what is this secret ingredient? Is it hard to source?”
‘Here sit down Luther and I’ll tell you,’ said Morgan, patting the bed of the pickup.
‘The secret ingredient is one reason why you are the man. It is a ferment of red Pontiac potatoes. That’s it. The secret is potatoes. But it has to be this variety and you are the only farmer in the Skagit Valley, or most of the world, who grows this old variety and is aware enough to see me and hear me and take my help to heart. That’s it Luther. Are you in? Do you want to save your foolish, relatively hairless people one red potato at a time?’ Morgan put his big hand on Luther’s shoulder as they sat there, and he waited.
“Alright. I’m crazy. But yeah, I’m in. Sounds like I have some preserves to make, er sauce. But tell me this. How do you do that invisible bit?”
‘It’s not very complicated. Some of the colors that we are, are invisible to you. I can kind of turn on the colors your eyes and brain can read, and then you can see me. Well, some of you can see me. Some of you won’t, no matter what I do. I could throw rocks and trees at them, and they still wouldn’t see me.’
“Yeah, sure, but how do you do that,” said Luther.
‘I hold my breath and count to three. I can’t figure any other way to explain it Luther. To disappear I do the same on an inbreath. It sounds awful to you guys! Now you see me. Now you don’t! It’s just like breathing to me!’
"You're a weird dude, Morgan," said Luther.
'It's a weird world, Luther, weird and in many ways unbelievable to us too,' agreed Morgan. 'But we have to do what we can to make sense of it and make it work somehow.'
They sat in companionable silence for a while in the bed of the pickup before getting to work on some potatoes and chilis and such.
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