THERE IS A SANTA CLAUS!

POE JNR. sat in a bar deep underground. He had left the meeting in a state of shock. His hosts had bid him farewell for a while and he had decided to wander the corridors of their world. His plan was to collect his thoughts, soak up the atmosphere and plan his next move.

Back on Planet Earth it was Christmas but up there you’d never have known. Poe walked down the red corridors, then the green, past a tiled arc with strange motifs and into a large enclave with a vast floodlit roof. Gentle waterfalls splashed down mossy, glassy walls. Hundreds of see-through people in all shapes and sizes, young and old either swam around madly or gently sat and lazed around the warm waters of an artificial lake.

A rather attractive waitress came by and gave Poe his third drink. Poe had no money but, as no money was being asked for, he sipped contentedly. The soft-tasting blue drink reminded him of Pernod but with a hint of oranges and lemon. The subtle effect of the other-world liquor made Poe feel strangely distant yet peaceful. He decided to let the alien ambience wash over him and he relaxed, sat back and contemplated.

Number one, nobody seemed to be looking at him or giving any sign that he was out of the ordinary. Maybe they had all seen humans before. If so, when and whom? Number two, was he really necessary to their plan? Why not just arrive with a ship load of instruments and give them away? In the middle of his reveries a distinguished see-through male sat down beside him. Wrapped in a rough-hewn towel, he reminded Poe of an old jellyfish with faded yellow tufts of dried, sponge-like hair. The gentleman stuck out his hand. “Professor Poe, very nice to meet you, my name is Retura and I am what you might describe as the leader of this planet.”

Maybe because of the drink, Poe didn’t seem at all surprised. Why not, he thought? Poe took another sip and eyed his visitor over the glass, with its little umbrella sticking out of the top. “Why didn’t you meet me when I arrived?” asked Poe.

“Why should I have? It is not my show. It would be a sign of lack of respect for your hosts, this is their strategy and they have our full backing.”

“Don’t you think that your plans are rather nasty and unethical?” asked Poe, abrasively. “Ethics are very subjective, Professor. By our standards we are being ethical. How can you lose? We would find a place for all you peoples, somewhere that suited all your nations’ requirements, rich in life-enhancing flora and fauna and one that might give you a chance at interacting, at last, with other habitants in our spacious galaxy. And more than that a chance to observe and possibly learn from a planet with an infinitely older and more technologically advanced system than your own.”

Poe looked deep into his glass. For no reason that he could identify, he saw the image of a Christmas pudding, flaming on the post-dinner table. He snapped out of that reverie with the thought that this host certainly had the rhetoric of a born politician. All he needed was a soap box, but they probably didn’t use soap.

“Professor,” he said to Poe, “let me ask you something. You see these people here today. Are they having a good time?” Poe looked at the maze of splashing see-through people, some reading from plastic plasma screens, children creating miniature mossy, green buildings at the shore’s edge, some adults floating past with ample stomachs swaying above the water line. He looked at their contented faces. “Yes, I suppose they are,” he answered.

“Poe, let me explain our social ecosystem to you,” the leader pleaded. “In many ways we are more lucky than your race as we can live up to five times longer, which allows us a certain degree of latitude. This fortunately gives us an ability to learn and relearn, to make mistakes, to have the time to find our true vocations. People that are by nature lazy, we encourage to be lazy and then when they are bored by this type of existence, they may metamorphose into another mode of behaviour. If not, well, never mind. People that are artists, we help to become great exponents of the form. People that hate art or lack the commitment or talent, we encourage to be demolition experts or critics. People that display leadership potential, we encourage in that direction. If somebody wants to rule the planet, for whatever motives, then good luck to them, they can stay at the pinnacle of their dreams for as long as they want.” Poe burst in. “Your thinking is very unfair to critics, as some have taken the form to great heights offering witty and deflating insights to pompous egotistical works, written in-depth articles revealing powerful insights into the various genres, uncovered and nurtured blossoming unknown talents and on the whole acted as guiding lights to good art and taste. I know that some can write up the most sycophantic puff at the merest hint of free lunch, but they are surely in the minority? “Furthermore, on the leadership issue, what if two or three people want to be leaders at the same time, how do you get around that one? There’s only one Santa Claus.”

The old see-through leader smiled and offered his response to Poe’s outburst. “I hear and respect your opinion on the first issue and as for the second they will share power for a while until one tires or until we can find a new idea or cause worthy of such a person’s talents. And as for Santa Claus, you know he really does exist. You see, Poe, this planet is full of varying degrees of imagination and invention – varying degrees of missions and campaigns. Some ideas will work and some will not, but life will go on. And ultimately we create our own limits.”

“Are you saying,” asked Poe “That if this idea of taking over earth doesn’t get off the ground then you don’t really mind?” “What I am saying my dear Professor is that our civilisation will go on regardless, but yours in the fullness of time, and maintaining your present planetary habits, may not. In the meantime, let’s have some fun. I do believe it’s Christmas and you’re due a present.”

And with that he handed Poe Jnr. the most extraordinary piece of equipment he had ever seen. Poe’s mouth dropped open.

It was Christmas alright . .

• Next issue: Poe Comes Around.