Max

By Barry Friedman

Max Aries is a skinny, twenty-seven year-old who appears from nowhere to convince the coach of the Cincinnati Rams, a mediocre professional football team, that he can perform feats that will make them Super Bowl champions. Although he falls victim to a series of obstacles, he manages to live up to his promise. Little does anyone know that Max, or Xam, his real name, was sent from heaven. Not the heaven we all know, but the distant planet Oh Ess Yew.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barry Friedman
• Release date: Apr 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458120410

Barry Friedman

Barry Friedman holds the Jacob D. Fuchsberg Chair at the New York University School of Law. He is a constitutional lawyer and has litigated cases involving abortion, the death penalty, and free speech. He lives in New York City.

Book preview

Max

A novel

By Barry Friedman

Copyright © 2011 by Barry Friedman

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Prologue

Xam was locked onto the screen. For hours he had been watching the contest they called Monday Night Football. Several hours before, it had been called Sunday Night Football.

A voice over his shoulder said, I suppose they also have Saturday Night Football.

Xam turned. No, Ling, Saturday night is something they call ‘Live.’ It’s not football.

Do you have any idea what they’re doing?

Sure. Xam pointed to the screen. This guy pulls a brown thing called a football from between the legs of the other guy bent over. Now, see he’s looking for someone to throw it to. Oops… that’s called a sack.

Ling said, I thought a ‘sack’ was what they called a bag.

Xam stared at Ling for a few seconds. "This is too complicated for you. Why don’t you go back to piloting this ship?

Ling walked back to the controls of the spaceship shaking his head. Crazy humanoids.

Xam leaned back, thinking about the game he’d been watching. Looked easy. Why couldn’t he…?

A few minutes later, he clicked off the viewing screen, and ambled to the Command Center. He fitted his ID card into a slot and a door slid open revealing a cavern-like room. Seated at a desk in the center of the room was Commander Loto. Like Xam and Ling, Loto was tall and thin, with red hair.

Xam flopped into a chair in front of the desk. Commander, he said, I’d like to ask a favor.

Loto grinned. Half a dozen times before, Xam had come to him requesting permission to land on the planet inhabited by creatures identical to those of their own planet.

Xam would not be the first visitor to Earth that Loto had set down. Others had spent periods of a few months to a year, Earth time, living and working among Earthlings, observing their habits and customs. Eventually, they would return their home planet. One alien always remained and was responsible for maintaining a base on Earth until relieved by a fellow visitor.

Still want to go there? said Loto.

Xam nodded. We look like them. I’ve studied their language. I’m sure I could get away with it.

I’m sure you could. But what would be the purpose?

I’ve been watching re-runs of a game they play. I’d like to try it. To see how our skills match up to theirs. We’ve always thought we were superior in all ways.

That’s true, said Loto. We’ve been able to monitor their activities; they don’t even know we exist. He gazed down at his desk, then brought his head up. It’s an intriguing idea, Xam.

Xam gripped the arms of the chair. Then you agree? I can go?

Loto took in a deep breath. You know the risks and the rules.

Xam put up a hand. I know. I know. You can be sure, Commander. They’ll never know. He smiled. I don’t think they have the intelligence to even suspect I’m not one of them.

Loto raised a cautionary finger. Don’t underestimate them. There may be a few who suspect that forms of, what they call life, exist outside their planet. But even those few only think of us as enemies who are interested in destroying them.

Crazy idea, said Xam. Why would anyone get that notion? They haven’t even found ways of communicating with us.

Loto pressed a button and a large map appeared on the wall-sized screen behind his desk. With a laser pointer he indicted a spot on the map. This is where we’ll put down. He handed Xam a plastic card. An address was printed on one side. Here’s your key to where you’ll be staying. We call it a ‘safe house.’ You’ll find clothing, money, a vehicle and other items, everything you’ll need. Kentu is your contact. He’s already there but is scheduled to return to home planet. You’ll be his replacement.

He reached into a desk drawer and withdrew a small phone. Here’s your link with us. You know how to get us, but remember, only in an emergency.

Loto glanced at the dialed object on his wrist. It’s their summer. You have until early their winter, understood?

Xam saluted smartly. Aye aye, sir, as they say.

* * *

At 2 a.m., a large, saucer-shaped object slowly floated down from the sky, and landed in a field about fifteen miles from Cincinnati.

In the control tower of Cincinnati’s airport, a radar operator pointed to his screen. Hey! We don’t have a flight due in now, do we?

Sam Stone, the chief air traffic controller, seated at a desk in the center of the control tower, shook his head. Nothing’s due in until 8 a.m..

Well, something just came into our sector. The radar operator pointed to the screen, and Sam rolled his chair to the scope. The two watched as a blip appeared under the sweep arm.

I don’t see its data tag, said Sam. Commercial aircraft were equipped with a responder that identified it on the radar screen.

Maybe it’s a UFO.

Sam smiled. "An unidentified flying object? Sur-r-re. We’ve got invading aliens. Come on, Jim, you’ve been reading too much Science Fiction.

Suddenly the blip disappeared from the screen. Sam leaped from his chair. Uh-oh. Whatever it is just crashed! Call highway patrol. Have them send a car out to investigate. He read off the position.

Back in the deserted field, a hatch of the spaceship opened. From it emerged a tall, red-haired man, wearing a backpack and pushing a motorcycle. He donned a helmet waved to the spaceship and gunned the cycle toward a dirt road a few yards away. A moment later, the spaceship hatched closed and it rapidly rose into the night sky.

In the control tower, the radar operator gazing at the screen, saw what appeared to be a flash of light. In a second it was gone. He shook his head and muttered, I’ve gotta see about getting my eyes examined. I think I need new eyeglasses.

Sam said, Did you say something?

The radar operator shook his head. Just talking to myself.

The motorcyclist watched the spaceship soar into the night sky, then sped down the dirt road until, reaching a paved highway, stopped. The driver removed his helmet, consulted a map he removed from his pocket and took off again toward Cincinnati. The cycle rounded a curve, then was gone from sight.

Moments later, a highway patrol car pulled up at the site from which the motorcycle had left. An officer got out and with a flashlight examined the surrounding area. He spotted the dirt road, got back in his patrol car and slowly drove down the dirt road until he reached a large open field. He spoke into a radiophone. Car 26 calling control.

Twenty-six, this is control.

I’m at the field you directed me to. I don’t see anything that looks like a downed aircraft.

Roger that, twenty-six. I guess it was a mistake.

At 3 A.M., the motorcyclist drove slowly down a street in a suburban area of Cincinnati. The plain, frame houses on both sides of the street were dark, the street deserted except for a few cars parked in driveways and at the curb. After glancing at a slip of paper on which was written an address, the cyclist killed the engine and walked the machine up the driveway of one of the houses. From his backpack, he retrieved a remote and clicked open the garage door. A Buick sedan occupied one side of the garage, a lawn mower, other garden tools and a bicycle took up some of the remaining space. The cyclist maneuvered his machine to an empty corner, parked it and placed his helmet on the seat.

As he closed the garage door with the remote, a door at the back of the garage opened and a smiling figure appeared at the opening. Xam! Welcome to Earth—and Cincinnati!

He threw his arms open and gave Xam a bear hug.

Good to see you, Kentu,