He Knew the Place Existed Somewhere

At that time long ago, before the first meteorite destroyed ninety percent of life on Earth, they buried their spacecraft deep in a mountain in France. It emitted a frequency that communicated with the human mind as well as the Venusian one. It just so happened that the transmission penetrated the Earth on its way to Venus at exactly the location of Golem’s hut.
These souls could not be tempted to return one day to Venus. The virus they carried would decimate any Venusian who then one day put on a body suit to holiday in Thailand. Life in other galaxies would be decimated.
And now these humans were only a millennium away from intergalactic travel. The experiment had to be ended before it was too late. That is if this sect of the Venusian race was to survive. Even amongst Venusians there was good and evil. The good were very good and the evil were very evil. May have been an institution like Heaven and Hell.
Yet, he would miss the beaches of Thailand and intercourse with the humans. He would exist once again in the sky and sand and water as a reference to spirituality for those who looked or asked where we came from or why we are here. This lengthy holiday in Thailand was good, and at times he fell dangerously close to falling in love with the humans as a few of his ancestors had done so long ago. Yet, the fallen angels reminded him of consequence. He slept with them, but did not allow much time with any individual for fear that he would not be able to execute his mission. The virus was far along, but had not yet reached critical mass. These rascally humans wanted to hang on for as long as possible. They seemed to be saying, each and every one of them, “I want to live forever.” The Venusian knew that forever was a very long time. People loved a physical existence and so did he, but he remembered home and of not having to labor for the fruits of existence. He pressed on. He kept an eye on Golem. There was something going on.
He had spied Golem the other night drinking his eighth light beer and heard him mumble … eight killed by nineteen-year-old in mall. He thought he saw a tear. He was looking into his mind. Golem was thinking that if someone walked into congress and let off a hundred rounds, he wouldn’t care. They were the ones who seemed to think that assault rifles should be stocked on shelves in the Seven Eleven and who built room additions on their houses with money from the NRA. He wondered if any of them ever saw the blood that originated in their hands. He knew if they were the ones being shot at a law would be passed tomorrow. It would be a hundred rounds fired in retaliation for forty thousand gunshot deaths each year. The government would have to take responsibility for its actions.
The amount of blood being shed in his nation made him think of a bottle of blood that had been attached to him once. He in no way saw himself as God, yet he did think that if we looked at life as a creation and a beautiful thing created in wisdom than we had to feel pain when we saw the destruction of it. The thing that had bothered him about his stay in the hospital when he had his operation was the small Nerf-sized football shaped bottle with flat ends and the words Redon Vacuum written on it. It was attached to him and each day a slow and steady flow of blood dripped into it and the depth of the blood in the bottle increased. He was okay with intravenous tubes attached to his hand, but this part of him was attached to him with a tube that was inserted into the wound and went deep inside his scrotum. It was as if the bottle itself was a part of him like an organ in a canopic jar, it contained his blood and was not a transfusion. Everywhere he went he carried the bottle with him in his hand. He carried a bottle of his own blood with him. For several days when he got out of or into bed he would pick up the plastic bottle or place it hanging from the rail of the bed or sit in a chair with the pet bottle of blood on the floor beside him. He felt as if it were his friend. It didn’t really matter where the bottle was as long as it sat beneath the level of that where it was attached. The thing that most kept his attention was that he could not go home until the flow of blood in the bottle stopped.
About the only place safe from the Venusian plan would be a place where there were no birds. Golem thought of those words and in what place there were no birds. Recently, while he was teaching a class a bird flew across the room and missed his head by an inch. He ducked in surprise and looked at the students. It was gone in a flash. Was it trying to tell him something? For an instant he thought that maybe this place of no birds existed only in the mind, but he could not be convinced that that was the case. He knew the place existed somewhere.