Coffee is without a doubt a taste of the divine. This morning I was savoring the aroma, sipping with delight, taking in my potent elixir in small increments of pleasure, and for just a few moments setting aside all the cares of the day. It isn’t a habit that I would willingly break, not because it is or may be intrinsically addictive, but because it’s the one habit that as far as I can see has done me no harm, and it brings mostly good and pleasant memories.

I sipped my coffee, while scanning the paper for any news of interest. Stocks were doing well on Wall Street with nearly every exchange reporting gains. The bull seemed well fed. Congress was mouthing platitudes about tax cuts while hiding budget increases behind rhetoric and doublespeak. Nothing new there. About the only thing worse than a felon with many convictions is a politician without any.

I checked my watch and realized that I had nearly sat too long, and quickly drained my cup. I left the open paper on the table, and put on my coat, grabbed my briefcase and ran from my apartment, slamming the locked door behind me. I rushed downstairs hoping I hadn’t already missed my bus. My lean frame was a distinct advantage to me where I lived, for I’m still in excellent physical condition, and I could still give a teen a good workout though I’m over twice that age.

I have several flights of stairs to go up and prefer using them even though there is an elevator. I think nothing of attacking them with gusto two at a time all the way up. Now however I was doing the opposite. I held on to the banister and used it to guide me in a controlled fall taking the steps rapidly down two at a time. It took me less than 30 seconds to fly down several flights of stairs, and it was much faster than the old elevator.

I arrived at the bus stop just as it pulled up to my kiosk. I noticed one of my ads on the side. A cute kid gleefully hugging a scruffy dog saying, "Now I can hug you all I want 'cuz your fleas are gone!" The picture said it all. The ad had been running successfully for almost a year now and had brought the company at least seven other clients. Yeah, I know it’s corny, but right now corny sells products.

It must have been on the bus for a while because it’s edges were tattered and the logo for the flea repellent was missing. Alert to opportunity, I decided that here was a chance to improve our image. We usually follow through on all our clients as a service to both of us so that we can have some additional benchmarks to determine our success.

When the bus stopped at my downtown office building, I quickly swiped my transit card through the meter and got off. I hadn't been paying much attention to my fellow passengers, but one of them had been paying a lot of attention to me. I entered the revolving door at a brisk pace, as I loved to do if no one was near, and left it spinning in my wake like a leaf caught in a whirlwind. I nodded to the receptionist in the lobby as the door continued to spin, disgorging a neatly dressed and slightly flustered elderly man. I had already made it to the elevator, catching the door just before it made its return trip upwards, pleased to have the compartment to myself for a change. Had I not been in such a hurry to get to my office, I'd have heard him asking for me, and being given directions to my suite.

My secretary, Sharon Gantry, greeted me inside with a smile and reminded me to attend a lunch engagement with a co-worker. Still full of fresh ideas, I thanked her and went into my office closing the door, not taking time to socialize as I usually did.. After sitting down, I exited the screen saver and brought up the menu on my terminal. I always reviewed the E-mail first, then checked the inter-office memos. There wasn't much worthy of note in the E-mail. A few innocuous messages and follow-ups from previous correspondences, as well as the usual assortment of spam that managed to bypass the filters. As I scrolled through the inter-office memos my buzzer sounded. Sharon announced that I had a visitor, and asked if I had time to see him, or should she make an appointment.

Though nothing was pressing I had a curious reluctance to meet my guest. My brainstorm on the bus needed to be followed up on, and I wanted to give it some uninterrupted time. Besides that, I had a feeling that this was going to be a little out of the ordinary. Something in the tone of Sharon’s voice gave me a cue, but what she was picking up on she either couldn’t or wouldn’t say.

Sharon made a valiant attempt to get the old gentleman to come back later, but he would not be put off. She buzzed back a few minutes later to inform me that my visitor requested to see me urgently. She said he claimed to have come a long way and couldn't afford to waste the time and expense he went to in order to see me. He wouldn't state the nature of his business. I've wondered since if it would really have made any difference if I'd refused to see him. I told her to usher him in, and waited to see what it was about.

The door opened and she led in a distinguished looking, white haired elderly gentleman and introduced him as Mr. Gerald Whittleby. He was dressed in a modest, but expertly made tailored jacket. He looked well manicured, carried himself erect with dignity, and the look in his eyes conveyed a strong sense of self confidence, and the wisdom of his years. Though he was white haired, and had a few facial wrinkles, his age was impossible to determine at a glance. He could have been sixty or a hundred and each would have been as believable as the other. We shook hands, introduced ourselves redundantly, and sat down to get acquainted. Sharon went back to her desk, closing the door behind her. She seemed quietly apologetic as she left.

"I understand that you've traveled a long distance to see me. What can I help you with Mr. Whittleby?" I gave him my most winning smile, the one I woo all my prospective clients with, and sat back comfortably to help put him at ease.

"I need your services as an advertiser, and an excellent judge of human nature. I'm involved in a highly sensitive public relations project and I believe you’re the most qualified man to take it on." He sat there with a hint of a smile on his face, fingering the seam of the upholstery on the arm of his chair.

"You're trying to flatter me. What type of P.R. do you have in mind? Are you here on behalf of a private agency, a charity group, government project or what?" I asked.

"Let's just call it a consortium of independent regulatory agencies dedicated to furthering interracial harmony."

"I'm afraid you lost me on that. Are you sure this isn't a government agency you represent?"

"It’s hard to explain, but in that some governmental agencies will benefit by what I want you to do, yes. Why do you ask? Have you something against the government?" He looked slightly uncomfortable, but revealed little of it on his face.

"Not at all. What governments are we talking about?" I sat up a little straighter. I didn't know where he came from, but I could tell he was used to playing his cards close to his chest.

"I'm not yet able to tell you that, nor am I free to divulge more details about my purpose here until I have your assurances that regardless what you hear today, you won't reveal the details until given liberty to do so by the parties I represent. This must be kept totally confidential. More than a business account hinges on this."

I sat back in my chair and looked at him for a moment, as if I could discern without speaking the nature of his purpose. Nothing emanated from him. His body language was almost impossible to read. He had the most perfect poker face I've ever seen. He sat there as calm and secure as a fortress on a sunny spring day, without a seeming care in the world.

"Suppose I agree to this, and then don't like the details and decide to back out. Do you trust me enough to tell me knowing I might refuse you after I hear you out?"

"Yes, I do trust you. We've seen you operate and believe you to be a man of integrity. I'm sure if you agree to keep this confidential, you'll do so."

"We?"

"Myself and the consortium I represent. We've been evaluating potential candidates for this position for years. You are the most qualified." He sat back in his chair and regarded me thoughtfully. He had a gentle expression, but the most piercing gaze I'd ever seen. Somehow I felt that he knew even more about me than I was willing to admit to myself.

"Could you at least tell me the name of your consortium?"

"Not until I have your word, your oath of confidentiality."

I thought for a moment and then asked , "I don't have to agree to anything but silence, unless I take the job? Are there any further stipulations should I decide to accept it?"

"Yes, but I'll reveal them as the need arises." He sat there idly stroking the chair upholstery again, apparently relishing its feel.

Curiosity is truly one of the most motivating forces mankind possesses. It has the power to liberate mankind, or overpower him with forces he can't control. I had no idea where my curiosity was going to lead me, but I wanted to go there if only to find out why this old man was sitting so serenely in front of me.

"OK, I'll agree to keep anything you tell me absolutely confidential, on the understanding that I'm under no further obligation at this time. Is that satisfactory to you?"

"Yes, that will do nicely. Before we start, would you please ask your secretary not to interrupt us? This could take a while and I'll need your undivided attention."

"Certainly, I'll be glad to." Reaching over to the phone, I paged Sharon and asked her not to be interrupted until we were done. I turned off my monitor so it wouldn't be a distraction and made myself more comfortable in my chair.

"OK, go ahead and tell me about it.".

What followed was one of the most incredible conversations I have ever held in my life. At times I was tempted to pick up the phone and call for some mental health professionals. That I did not is a real testimony to the power of Mr. Whittleby's persuasive manner. He apparently believed every word of what he said. That and the proof he offered changed my life forever.

Mr. Whittleby sat there a moment as though to collect his thoughts and then settled in his chair a little more comfortably. "To start with, I'm not from your country, and neither is the consortium I represent. It's composed of an international group of financiers, industrialists, and governmental bodies of various nations. All of them have one thing in common: they want to do business with your country and its people. We believe that a relationship with your nation as an international participant in our consortium would be beneficial to us all."

"Two things come to mind immediately. First, you still haven't named your consortium, and second... why me? Trade relations are a matter for international diplomats to hammer out. You’d be better off seeking out the World Trade Organization. Are you implying you want me to promote trade relations as a product in itself?”

"I'll answer your second question first. True, in theory the ultimate work of decision making in international trade is done by diplomats, and politicians. But we've noticed that they can be swayed by popular demand and by public opinion. All we want you to do is have a hand in shaping that opinion until the time is right. Indeed, you would be an ambassador in the sense that you'd be representing us to your country and its people. You'd likewise be your nation’s representative to our consortium. You'd most likely know how to present us in a manner acceptable to your people within their cultural framework."

"I sense an implication that it might be a difficult task to convince people that we should be a part of this." I toyed with my pen, wondering why he had really chosen to come here. I wasn't at all sure that our company should be getting into politics at this time. He sat there in front of me still giving me no hints in his body language.

"Ok, if I have this right,” I continued, “you want me to represent your consortium to America so that our people see it in a favorable light, and our government is interested enough to become involved in it. Correct so far?"

"That's pretty close. We also want you to act as a liaison between us and your government so that we can keep our lines of communication open, and hopefully avoid some of the pitfalls of misunderstanding that give rise to enmity."

"You still haven't told me the name of your consortium."

"We're called Intergal Traders. I've been with them only about forty years or so, but I know their inner workings about as well as any, and have been chosen to be their representative for this mission because I speak your language so fluently."

"In forty years you should know the consortium inside out by now. I must admit though, I've never heard of Intergal before."

"That's no surprise. Intergal has never been here before." He looked amused.

"No, I don't just mean here. I mean everywhere. Forgive me, but I've been around. We have quite a few international accounts, but I have never seen Intergal on anyone's stock portfolio or business listings." I felt a little more comfortable now, being in more familiar territory.

"That's because Intergal isn't a company in the sense you're used to. It has more in common with a guild than a modern day corporation. It is made up of myriads of enterprises and agencies, both private and governmental. And, if I may add, you haven’t been ‘everywhere’ yet."

"Ok, that's starting to sink in. Can you tell me some of the governments involved?"

"Well, let's see. There's the Polaris Council of Federations, the Betelgeuse Republic, The Grand Empire of Sirius, the Reformed Monarchy of Deneb, and the Peoples Democracy of Alnilam to name a few." He sat there with a deadpan expression on his face again, as though to gauge my reaction objectively.

For a half minute I just sat there. I couldn't believe he was serious. The trouble was he sounded serious. I didn't dare open my mouth for fear of saying the wrong thing. At first I felt angry at having my time wasted in such a ludicrous fashion, then I began to feel sorry for the old man. Up until now he'd been making such perfect sense, but obviously somewhere on the path of life he'd left reality behind.

"I can see this is a shock to you. Up until now everything has been logical and well thought out, but now you're confronted with a possibly senile old man and you don't know what to do." He had a smile on his face, and gave me a look that was both knowing and compassionate, convincing me that he not only knew what he was saying but understood its effect on me.

"Listen, you can't really believe these are real places. This has to be a joke." I felt exasperated.

"I assure you I'm not joking. You wouldn't happen to know anything about astronomy would you?"

"No, I don't. The only thing I know about stars is that I can see them at night sometimes if it isn't too cloudy or smoggy. I know what the Big and Little Dippers look like. Why are you changing the subject?"

"I'm not changing the subject. It's a pity you don't know more about the stars. Are you familiar with the North Star by chance?"

"Yes, it's the tail end star of the handle of the Little Dipper. Why?"

"Do you recall its other name?"

I had to think for a moment while wondering where this insanity was leading. “Uh... yeah... it's uh... Polaris."

For the second time in five minutes I was utterly speechless as I realized the implications of Mr. Whittleby's questions. "You can't be serious. Are you trying to tell me that each of those names you gave me is the government of a star system?"

"Indeed I am. It quite explains why you haven't heard of Intergal Traders before. Intergal stands for Intergalactic and has no registry on this earth yet. And lest you think me totally insane let me assure you that I can furnish the proper credentials at the right time." He looked totally serious.

"I already think you're insane. No one could be as well spoken as you are and actually believe in this stuff unless he was out of his mind. As far as your credentials go, anyone in this day and age can have a phony I.D. printed. It'll take more than fancy artwork to prove your case. I must be crazy myself for continuing this discussion. I'll have my secretary show you out."

As I reached for the phone, Mr. Whittleby reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a device about the size of a small solar calculator, with fewer buttons on it. At first I was startled when his hand went for his jacket. My first thought was, "Oh no, he's got a gun! I hope security can get this kook out of here without anybody getting hurt."

I began dialing the outer extension as he pressed a button near the top and the end nearest me began to glow faintly violet. I finished dialing the number and realized the phone wasn't ringing or doing anything. I looked at my watch to see what time it was, so that I'd know if Sharon was still here or out on her break and my crystal was blank. Nothing registered on the LCD.

On a hunch I turned on the PC monitor and it too was on the fritz. Looking below, I could tell the server was down. My communications were effectively cut off by a loony old man sitting across from me using a device that resembled a fancy TV remote. I had no doubt that he was responsible for it. He and that little high-tech gadget he had activated. I set the phone receiver down on my desk without hanging it up, and sat back in my chair.

" I don't know what kind of prank this is, but I'm getting annoyed. I hope you're willing to leave quietly and not require me to have our security officers escort you from the building."

I tried to sound confident, but inside I was anything but confident. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that the old man had a few more tricks up his sleeve. Also, his little device had aroused my curiosity. The more I looked at it, the more I wanted to know about it.

"Come now, you really don't mean that. You'd miss out on the opportunity of your life. Do you honestly mean to tell me that you haven't the slightest interest in what I hold in my hand, and what I just did with it?"

"I'd be lying if I told you any differently, and you obviously know it. Unless I miss my guess, you can use it to counter certain types of electromagnetic radiation. That doesn't necessarily prove extra-terrestrial origin. It looks like an ordinary enough device to have been manufactured anywhere on earth, and the technology while high tech may not be as advanced as you'd like me to think. We've been able to eavesdrop electronically for years just by analyzing residual electromagnetic radiation given off by computers and high tech communication equipment. It wouldn't be any great leap to find some way to nullify it."

"You're right of course, and I shouldn't have expected to convince you so easily on such a feeble demonstration. I did need to get your attention quickly so that you would at least listen a little while longer before you make your choices. Think for a moment where I could have gotten a device with these capabilities in the first place. You mentioned your government is involved in electronic eavesdropping. You're correct, but consider this: why would I be in possession of a device that exceeds the capabilities of your government's best intelligence agencies?"

He held it up for me to see it more easily. "If your government had such as this, even on a small scale, its existence would be a very secret thing, and someone just walking in off the street is highly unlikely to have possession of the technology."

"OK, you've got a good point. Still, it could have been produced here by some private company. Security agencies all over the U.S. sell their electronic gadgets to the highest bidder. It wouldn't be the first time our government failed to recognize a good thing when it came along."

"True again. Would you like to see some of my other credentials?"

"I'll play along for now. I wouldn't mind a crack at working on an ad for your nullifier thing. Mind you, this doesn't imply that I believe a word you've told me. It's just that you have obviously gone through a lot of trouble to sell me a good line, and I'd like to see where it leads." I thought it was too far-fetched for the device he'd shown me to be anything but man made, and wondered where he'd really gotten it. Perhaps if I kept him talking long enough he'd let something slip.

"Excellent!", he said cheerfully. "You give me hope!"

He leaned forward in his chair and pressed another button on his device. Instantly my monitor came back on and the system began to boot up as though it had experienced a temporary power outage. I realized that I was hearing a dial tone and reached over to hang up the phone with my left hand. I noticed the display on my watch was back although it needed to be reset. As I reset my watch, he began to speak again.

"You've seen me interrupt your communications equipment by creating a counter field of exactly the same type and intensity as your equipment uses. My nullifier, as you called it, has other abilities as well. It can also pick up, analyze, and record all types of electromagnetic activity. Once recorded, it can play it back using any medium the user should choose. For this demonstration, I think holography and sound would be the best."

I had just finished resetting my watch. I looked up in time to see him press another button and a glowing cubicle appeared in front of me. He pressed another button and Mr. Whittleby himself took shape accompanied by Sharon entering my office. The details were in perfect color, three dimensional, and as solid appearing as real matter. The scene was from my perspective. I heard Sharon introducing him. He pressed another button and the scene fast forwarded. He stopped fast forwarding after a moment and a new scene appeared. I saw him removing something from his pocket and heard myself saying "Oh no, he's got a gun! I hope security can get this kook out of here without anybody getting hurt." The scene panned across the room and stopped at my desk. I saw my hand appearing reaching for the receiver and heard numbers being spoken out loud. Mr. Whittleby pressed another button and the hologram shrank into a tiny cube and vanished entirely.

"I hope further credentials are unnecessary."

I couldn't answer him. All I could do was sit there and stare at a device the size and appearance of a small T.V. remote with the power to bring nations to their knees. An indisputably alien device, capable not only of reading a mind selectively, but projecting it for all the world to see. I knew in that instant of realization that my life would never be the same. If that simple but complex gadget made it into the wrong hands, our world would literally be turned on its ear.

To this day I don't know how I found my will to move. I saw myself reaching for the phone as though I was in a lucid dream and calling my secretary.

"Sharon, would you please cancel my lunch? As a matter of fact, would you mind asking Jack to take my accounts? I'm afraid I'm going to be very busy for a while."