In the third year of the 21st century, strange signs of activity began to appear on the fourth planet from the Sun, Mars. This activity coincided with the extraordinary phenomenon of a closer dance between the great planets of Earth and Mars than had been known since the pause between Ice Age 3 and Ice Age 4, when Homo misnamed sapiens began to rise to what passes for consciousness. Early in the summer, and strangely unreported in the press, due to the usual glut of war news and pictures of semi-clad semi-famous women in the papers of record, brief flashes of light appeared on the surface of Mars. A flurry of e-mails among eminent astronomers, many of whom had been burned in the previous year's comet hitting Earth story, eventually discounted the flashes as aberrations in the main telescope on Mt. Palomar observatory that had been the telescope of record. Curiously enough, a folk musician with a side hobby in astronomy, had also, the same night, wandered out into his backyard while the song circle of which he was a part was mangling "The Water is Wide", and seen the strange flashes in his souped up reflector, which he put down to dope.

The government of the United States, somewhat paralysed by the stupidity of its senior leadership, though informed of these events, was ordered to "stay on message", which did not include Mars. As Secretary of Secrets, Dafft McDafft said at the time: "We have no information at this time that Mars has links to Al-Qaeda, which you must admit makes it somewhat unique on Earth." When informed that Mars was, in fact, not on Earth, Mr. McDafft merely responded: "Whatever."


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August 7. Daybreak.

"Marge."
"Mmffmm?" Marge had trouble getting up early in the morning. This was her one complaint about farming, except for the fact that she was the breadwinner in the family, given the state of farming.
"Ain't never seen anything like it. Must be some kind of meteor. Just crashed in down along the back 40."
Marge took a sip of her coffee. "How about a light plane, one of the Kennedys maybe?" She was an avid reader of every grocery store tabloid.
"What would a Kennedy be doing in Iowa?"
"Howard Dean is here, anything could land here. Early primary, you know."
"Well, I don't know."
"Of course it could be those Martians."
"What Martians?"
"You see, Ty, that is what comes of your not keeping up with current events. If you read the National Sleaze, you would know better."
"Was that the smiley face on the moon issue, or the one with the cucumber with J-Lo's behind engraved on it?" Ty was not one for tabloids.
"Shows. Shows. I will have you know that there has been an extensive correspondence in the Letters to the Editor in the National Sleaze between the leader of the Martian army and various concerned American citizens for months now."
"'Bout what?"
"Concerning" -- he hated how she tried to improve his English during conversations -- "Concerning their preparations to engage in a pre-emptive strike against what they see are Earth's buildup of weapons of mass destruction. They think Earth is proposing to take over the solar system."
"Are we?"
"We launched 4 satellites in the last 3 months heading for Mars. Xanthrobbl, their Fearless Clarboth, believes them to be spy satellites for a future Earth invasion."
Ty scratched his head. "And you believe this stuff?"
Marge looked at her husband, considered the ins and outs of divorce yet again, put it back in the pending bin, and replied: "Xanthrobbl seems to mean business. Of course, there are some doubtful parts to his story."
"Such as?"
"He wants Julia Roberts as a hostage."
Ty looked at Marge, and then out the window. In the distance, a thin trail of smoke could be seen rising from over the waving fields of genetically modified corn. It was probably time to see if there was anything in this.
"Well, better go have a look. Want to come along?"
"No, got to get the kids ready for school. If it is Martians, Ty, be sure and get a picture. National Sleaze pays big dollar, and we need big dollars right about now."
She was always bitching about money, sighed Ty to himself. He went out to the den, got his camera, kicked the dog, and headed out.