Short, Light, Free

“What do you think faith is?” the president returned the question.

After some thought, Gerard answered, “Faith? America is faith. War is my faith. Victory is my faith.”

“He wants eight men who can teach them what faith is. Can I count you in?” the president asked.

“If it’s for America, it would be an honor.”

“No, I can’t let you go or Star Wars is really going to happen.” The president shook his head helplessly.

“What do you think faith is then, Mister President?” Gerard asked again.

With a bitter smile, the president answered, “No idea. I’ll launch a meeting with the United Nations. I’m sure other countries know of this matter as well.”

The president shut his phone and Gerard looked up at the spaceship with a grave expression on his face.

“Faith?” Gerard mumbled to himself.

“Do we await orders or withdraw, Officer?” a soldier asked.

“Withdraw. Leave the rest to the president,” Gerard instructed.

The next morning, president’s office.

A hundred and ninety-four monitors with faces on them.

The monitors were of different sizes, closely placed before the president’s seat.

The biggest screens were a meter long; there were only six of them.

The smallest ones, about ten of them, were only about the size of a palm.

There was a country flag on the top right-hand corner of each monitor.

The president started, “I’m sure you guys already know of this?”

The presidents of one hundred and ninety-four countries started nodding their heads.

The United Nations had a hundred and ninety-three member countries and two observing members.

The discussion was lively at this point.

Through his earpiece, the president was bombarded with all kinds of translated content.

Nevertheless, half of all talks were meaningless since countries were merely promoting their faiths.

Frustrated, the American president slammed his fist on the table, effectively shutting the crowd.

“There are so many religions but I only need eight representatives!” he said helplessly.

A commotion burst out again.

The American president continued, “Regardless of disagreements, they have requested eight people from us. What are you guys chit chatting about? It’s of no use. Since this happened in my country, I’ll make the decision.”

The crowd went wild again.

The American president cut off all connecting lines before taking his earpiece down.

What all these people did was just talk about their own cultures.

He pressed a button on his telephone.

“Call in a few professors,” he ordered.

Twenty minutes later, three professors entered.

“Read this and share your thoughts,” he said, handing over a document with the alien’s photograph in it.

They read through the document and kept quiet for a long time.

“So what are your thoughts?” the president asked.

The younger one among the trio spoke up, “It’s not the aliens’ first time visiting our planet. According to him, we are always undergoing reincarnation. If that’s the case, it really doesn’t matter who’s to be sent over, does it?”

Looking at the professor who spoke, he continued, “What kind of people should we present to him then?”

“Logically speaking, religious representatives should be sent over. A Christian priest, monk, witch, Daoist priest, prophet, shaman, and so on,” the professor enumerated.

Another professor interrupted, “Or a scientist, athlete, chef – all of whom are contributing to the progress of mankind.”

“Then why not present to him a criminal, nutcase, depressed individual, elderly suffering from dementia, and a mentally deficient child for them to study,” the third professor suggested.

Dead silence.

“Basically, the selected few pose no effect or whatsoever on this world?” the president questioned.

The three professors exchanged glances and nodded.

With a wave of his hand, the president sent them away.

The next day, he sealed the whole national border.

All armed forces were assigned along the borders of all fifty-six states.

Those without America’s passport were kicked out and even Americans weren’t allowed to return at the moment.

Even passengers who’d landed were forced to return to their point of departure with all connection cut off.

Upon receiving his mission, Gerard had confirmed it thrice before locking the whole of America down.

The president started a live broadcast, connecting to every television channel.

It was a major amplification and glorification of the matter.

After an impassioned speech, the president coughed a little before continuing, “Our time will restart over and over again; we are trapped in this endless cycle. We have a chance now, however. A chance presented only to America. At 12 in the afternoon today, every registered mobile phone will receive a message. Only eight names will be chosen to visit Planet Resplendent in exchange for a chance of change,” the president finished, leaving the whole America fired up.

Television programs resumed. The president wiped away the sweat from his forehead while asking the cameraman, “Is my speech successful?”

With a thumbs up, the cameraman responded, “Even more exciting than your election.”

…

Everyone waited anxiously for their messages.

One minute to twelve.

Five seconds… three seconds.

Two, one.

Messaging ringtones rang simultaneously.

“You are not chosen.”

…

I’m a fresh graduate. That day, I was lying on my bed, reading the newspaper.

I was searching for a suitable job and god knows how many CVs I’ve already sent to companies all over.

I glanced over at my phone when it rang.

“You’ve been chosen to visit Planet Resplendent. Please head down to your nearest police station or court.”

Planet Resplendent? I threw my phone aside.

Mom walked in.

“Did you receive the message, son? Probably a pointless question but I’m still curious. After all, only eight have been chosen,” she asked.

“What?”

“The president has picked eight people to visit Planet Resplendent. Wonder who are the lucky ones…” she explained.

“Mom? You’ve been watching too many dramas.” I stood up, looking at her.

She came over with her phone. “Something like this.”

I looked briefly at the message.

I picked my phone up and looked closely at the message. “Only eight names?”

“Why, silly son? Don’t tell me you got it,” she rushed over, staring at my phone screen.

I dashed over to the nearest police station.

Holding my phone up, I looked eagerly at the police on duty.

Half an hour later, a Lincoln limousine appeared before the station’s entrance.

Mom was there when I got escorted into the car.