large the practice went unchallenged.
G ENERALLY SPEAKING , M UNT -Z OLDARIAN’S VICTIMS did not help their own causes. This was particularly true in Maude Anat-Denarian’s case. Maude might have chosen to focus on her well-established, almost comical, caution as a driver to develop the operative hypothesis that she had not been the cause of the accident. This might have led her to realize the Ben-Zantarian in front of her, which appeared to be stopped in the road, was in fact stopped in the road and not just traveling slowly, as its driver contended. It might have emboldened her to challenge the conclusory and one-sided report prepared by the investigating police office. It could also have led her to investigate, or at least have prompted her attorney and insurance carrier to investigate, the rather suspicious intergalactic driving record of Nelson Munt-Zoldarian.
Instead, Maude developed the operative hypothesis that the accident had indeed been her own fault. Honest woman that she was, Maude recognized she had been rather upset over the news regarding her son, her husband’s absence, and the ordeal at the Trader Planet. All of this had led her to focus too intently on the gardening program on the radio and to fantasize about the possibility of good results in her garden. Rather than defend herself, Maude concluded she had caused the accident, in whole or in part, by daydreaming about broccoli.
5
I THINK WE’RE ALONE NOW
T HE EVENING FOLLOW ING THE day aliens made first contact with humans, Ralph Bailey stood outside the White House anxiously waiting to begin his first date with Jessica Love. It was crowded on the street, but once Ralph spotted Jessica, he could not take his eyes off of her. Pennsylvania Avenue became, in essence, a long runway, which Jessica traversed in a brimmed red beret and overcoat, which she wore to combat the chill of the autumn air. Several men checked out Jessica as she walked, but she did not notice. She had only Ralph on her mind. When she spotted him, she accelerated her pace. He beamed as she drew near.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“This was a good place to meet.”
“I’m glad it suits you.”
“So where are we going?” she asked playfully.
“I thought we would just stay here.”
“You mean outside the White House?”
“No,” he said, gesturing toward the presidential home. “I mean inside the White House.”
Jessica’s face lit up. “This is so cool,” she said. “You arranged an after-hours tour?”
“A personal one,” Ralph said. He felt mischievous.
R ALPH LED J ESSICA TO the West Gate security checkpoint. As they approached, a Secret Service agent said, “Good evening, Mr. Bailey.”
“They know you?” Jessica asked.
“They do.”
“Do I need to show identification?”
“Just a photograph,” Ralph said. “The rest has been taken care of.”
The agent asked, “Are you Jessica Love of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania?”
“I am.”
“May I see a picture identification?” Jessica produced her driver’s license, which the agent ran through a scanner. He watched the results on a computer.
“You’re clear to proceed.” The agent passed Jessica’s bag through a metal detector and handed her a visitor badge. She thanked him.
“A pleasure, ma’am. Have a great evening.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Ralph said.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
“I’m flabbergasted,” Jessica said as they walked across the front lawn. “We just walked in the main gate of the White House. He knew I was from Harrisburg before I even showed him my driver’s license.” Jessica pulled his arm. “Tell me,” she said, “what do you do?”
Ralph stopped and faced Jessica. “Look,” he said, “I expect you don’t like the President very much. The truth is I go back and forth myself. Is it okay, just for tonight, if I am a twenty-four-year-old kid who has access to a really cool place to take a girl he really likes?”
Jessica nodded. “That’s totally
G ENERALLY SPEAKING , M UNT -Z OLDARIAN’S VICTIMS did not help their own causes. This was particularly true in Maude Anat-Denarian’s case. Maude might have chosen to focus on her well-established, almost comical, caution as a driver to develop the operative hypothesis that she had not been the cause of the accident. This might have led her to realize the Ben-Zantarian in front of her, which appeared to be stopped in the road, was in fact stopped in the road and not just traveling slowly, as its driver contended. It might have emboldened her to challenge the conclusory and one-sided report prepared by the investigating police office. It could also have led her to investigate, or at least have prompted her attorney and insurance carrier to investigate, the rather suspicious intergalactic driving record of Nelson Munt-Zoldarian.
Instead, Maude developed the operative hypothesis that the accident had indeed been her own fault. Honest woman that she was, Maude recognized she had been rather upset over the news regarding her son, her husband’s absence, and the ordeal at the Trader Planet. All of this had led her to focus too intently on the gardening program on the radio and to fantasize about the possibility of good results in her garden. Rather than defend herself, Maude concluded she had caused the accident, in whole or in part, by daydreaming about broccoli.
5
I THINK WE’RE ALONE NOW
T HE EVENING FOLLOW ING THE day aliens made first contact with humans, Ralph Bailey stood outside the White House anxiously waiting to begin his first date with Jessica Love. It was crowded on the street, but once Ralph spotted Jessica, he could not take his eyes off of her. Pennsylvania Avenue became, in essence, a long runway, which Jessica traversed in a brimmed red beret and overcoat, which she wore to combat the chill of the autumn air. Several men checked out Jessica as she walked, but she did not notice. She had only Ralph on her mind. When she spotted him, she accelerated her pace. He beamed as she drew near.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hi.”
“This was a good place to meet.”
“I’m glad it suits you.”
“So where are we going?” she asked playfully.
“I thought we would just stay here.”
“You mean outside the White House?”
“No,” he said, gesturing toward the presidential home. “I mean inside the White House.”
Jessica’s face lit up. “This is so cool,” she said. “You arranged an after-hours tour?”
“A personal one,” Ralph said. He felt mischievous.
R ALPH LED J ESSICA TO the West Gate security checkpoint. As they approached, a Secret Service agent said, “Good evening, Mr. Bailey.”
“They know you?” Jessica asked.
“They do.”
“Do I need to show identification?”
“Just a photograph,” Ralph said. “The rest has been taken care of.”
The agent asked, “Are you Jessica Love of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania?”
“I am.”
“May I see a picture identification?” Jessica produced her driver’s license, which the agent ran through a scanner. He watched the results on a computer.
“You’re clear to proceed.” The agent passed Jessica’s bag through a metal detector and handed her a visitor badge. She thanked him.
“A pleasure, ma’am. Have a great evening.”
“Thanks, Tom,” Ralph said.
“You’re welcome, sir.”
“I’m flabbergasted,” Jessica said as they walked across the front lawn. “We just walked in the main gate of the White House. He knew I was from Harrisburg before I even showed him my driver’s license.” Jessica pulled his arm. “Tell me,” she said, “what do you do?”
Ralph stopped and faced Jessica. “Look,” he said, “I expect you don’t like the President very much. The truth is I go back and forth myself. Is it okay, just for tonight, if I am a twenty-four-year-old kid who has access to a really cool place to take a girl he really likes?”
Jessica nodded. “That’s totally
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