The Twiller
by David Derrico

Free Excerpt (Part IV)

    The Twiller let out a low, keening twill, and Ian followed the direction of its gaze. The landscape was pretty, here in Bez Erkeley, with mountains to one side and a great bay to the other. There was a colossal bridge that spawned the bay, leading off into the gloom. On and above this bridge, the aircars appeared to be as immobile as those in El Leigh. Ian distantly wondered why the aircars didn't simply cross the bay at some other point, but he surmised that they had to pass through the stack of tollbooths that rose interminably from the bridge's surface up into the thick layer of clouds above.
    "Sign my petition?" shrieked a nearby alien, startling Ian and sending the Twiller zooming behind his shoulder for protection. The alien stood in front of a long table covered in posters and bumper stickers that read "Vote YES on Prop 17."*  "Will you sign?" the alien asked again.
    "Uh," Ian stammered, "what's it for?" He wondered how much influence his signature would have in a realm where he was not a citizen, did not vote, and had not lived for more than an hour.
    "We're trying to pressure the university to refuse to allow some blockhead - this Dr. Furbar - from giving a speech denouncing Proposition 17. I mean, what kind of Nazi bastard could possibly be against Prop 17?" The alien gave Ian an incredulous look, which was completely lost on Ian, who was staring at the creature's dozens of nostrils.
    Ian braced himself, feeling helpless to escape or avoid the alien's tirade. He sighed. "And what's Prop 17?"
    "You don't know?" (Another wasted look of incredulity.) "Prop 17 guarantees and expands on one of our most fundamental rights - the right to free speech! Without it, democracy as we know it will crumble, our most basic freedoms will perish, our intellects will stagnate..." The alien paused in his diatribe. "You do have free speech on whatever backwater planet you're from, don't you?"
    "Yes, of course," replied Ian, insulted.
    "Good - then you'll sign the petition?" The alien waved an electronic clipboard in Ian's face.
    Ian reached for the clipboard, but drew back in a moment of clarity. "Wait a second - what is this petition for again? Supporting Prop 17?"
    "Well, of course," said the alien. "Not directly, of course, but we're aiming to prevent Dr. Furbar from spreading his lies and propaganda attacking and denouncing Prop 17."
    "So... you're actually trying to prevent him from speaking...?"
    The alien gave Ian a condescending look. "How can we protect the freedoms and liberties we hold most dear - the freedom to hold and express a viewpoint different from what THEY want you to believe - if we have government puppet propagandists like Furbar out repressing freedom of thought by spouting his silly nonsense to brainwash free-thinking people? Is that what you want?" The alien's glare on Ian grew cold. "Do you want to live in a world where everyone thinks exactly the same way? Where people fear expressing their own opinions and their own voices in support of Prop 17? Is that what you want, man?"
    "I... I just want to go home."
    "Fine!" shrieked the alien. "Bury your head in the sand! You're one of THEM, I see. You're against us! Against free speech! Against equality! You support the rich and powerful, the machine trying to repress us and keep us down. You're just a puppet, rattling off the same propaganda you all do!"
    "Good luck with your petition," said Ian, trying to disengage and back slowly away.
    "Hey - hey!" called the alien. "What about your friend?" He looked to the Twiller. "Will he sign?"
    The Twiller sped away ahead of Ian, and Ian hurried to keep up.

*  I just picked the number 17 out of thin air. Don't go looking it up.

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