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The trouble with running a successful bar is sometimes you have to deal with people you don't like. I don't mean maudlin drunks crying over lost loves - they're easy ; the smartass 'you're just the help' types have been known to wilter with one look, and the bigoted big city rednecks get the 'take a hike' message real quick. I'm talking the people who for no discernible reason give you the 'creeps'. Sounds silly, doesn't it? But you know its true - most people have felt this at one time or another. It could be the woman who sits next to you on the bus, the all-American kid who hands you the burger or that old guy who lives next door. They've never done anything to you or anyone else - no justification for your fear , but for some reason your skin crawls at the sight of them. Someone one once told me it has to do with reincarnation - that in a previous life you and that person were in someway involved and they had done you grievous harm.........yeah, well....maybe. It's an interesting concept, and one I'd freely debate anytime, but not now. I'm still goose plimping over the bloke from last night.

It was a quiet night. The weather change had kept most people indoors - unfortunately it wasn't my doors they were staying behind. I'd sent Jeff home early - there wasn't enough custom to warrant the both of us. I was idly polishing the bar top and considering turning the TV on to catch the late news.

I keep a small television behind the bar. It's the only one you'll find here. If you want to watch the football on the big screen TV; this isn't the place to come. The only reason I keep the portable is I like to know what is happening out there in the world - though I can always rely on my customers to bring me up to speed.

The moment he walked in I smelled him - and I don't mean the cigarette that was dangling from his lips. On the surface there was nothing particularly menacing about his appearance, but the guy radiated villainy.

He took a seat at the far corner of the bar, ordered a scotch. I poured it and when and occupied myself with menial tasks and chatting to the other customers . Unfortunately there was little of either, and 20 minutes later I found myself back in his corner. He signalled for a refill, I poured it and then turned on the TV and settled down to concentrate on the news. It appeared I wasn't the one experiencing a slow night - every news item seemed to be a re-hash of the week's stories. Still, I kept my attention on the broadcast for the next hour, breaking only to ply my trade. The one item in the newscast was one of those 'alien abduction' stories you hear so much of these days. The reporter & the news anchor treated the whole tale with disdain - and I have to admit the couple's story was a little far-fetched.

A snort of amusement came from behind. It was the first sound I'd heard from him since he ordered his first drink. For the first time I really looked at him - gray haired, 60s, no distinguishing marks - expect, maybe, the ever present cigarette. If he ever smiled he might even be pleasant looking - though I doubt this guy ever smiled...at least not what you or I would consider a smile.

The vibes were still bad, but I couldn't help myself,

"You don't believe their story?"

He barely shrugged, "Small towns, small people, small minds - all they want is their 15 minutes."

"You think they made it up so they could be on TV?"

"It's the great American dream isn't it?"

"That's a very cynical view."

"It's the truth. Notoriety is the public's religion."

"You really believe people will give up credibility for a 10 second spot on the late news?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe - it's what they want to."

He stubbed out another cigarette - there were at least 15 butts in the ashtray (I've seen some chain smokers in my time but this guy looked like champion class). My neck hair was rising, but still I asked, "What do you mean 'what they want to'?"

He took in a drag of smoke and held it - it was like watching a spider play with a fly - finally he released his prey and spoke, "Look around. Fifty years ago it was the battle of nations that kept the world's interest, now it's just which Hollywood wannabe is sleeping with a has-been. Religion is wallowing in it's own juices - you're either fanatical or totally indifferent. For the simple price of turning on the TV the criminal justice system is sliced, diced and exposed for the mockery it is. The public schools spend more time searching their students for drugs and weapons than actually teaching them," he gestured towards the television, "War is coloured coded, itemised and packaged in neat little compartments, according to the number of bodies. Thanks to the media there is very little to romanticise about."

Harsh words, but unfortunately there was ring of truth to them.

"You're saying that people believe in aliens because there is no fantasy left. If that was true, why do they always tell horror stories about being experimented on?"

"Justification."

One word - but I knew what he meant. I've wondered myself why the victims of alien abduction always seem to be Joe Public. If I was in charge of some kind of planetary recognisance mission, I'd be after the brains of the planet - not literally you understand, but the people who have the intelligence to comprehend. After all, we all have the same basic body structure - why take John Doe when you can have Lawrence Krauss. I emptied the ashtray, poured him another scotch and treated myself to one.

"That explains yarns like that," I jerked a thumb at the television, "But it still doesn't explain why the myth exists."

"The myth exists because of necessity"

"Necessity ?- The public needs fairytales? As what, a relief valve?

He shrugged , " It protects them. Reality is more complex than they could ever understand . The public embraces science as the truth , but few actually understand it. Drive-by shootings they can relate to - you ask anyone in this bar for a definition of Einstein's General Theory of Relativity and most will give you blank looks."

"E=mc2."

"Yeah, but do you know what it means?"

"Energy equals mass plus the speed of light squared."

The smug smile didn't disappear his face but I think I surprised him. I went served my few remaining customers. When I came back to him he was lighting up yet again.

"The world is a complex place Terry. I have seen things that would astonish and frighten."

"Such as?" I asked, wondering how he knew my name.

He took a long drag of his cigarette, then released the smoke into cloud that surrounded him like a fog.

"I've watched presidents die."

So have I. Dallas 1963." I gestured towards the television, "In living colour."

He sneered, "You saw what you wanted to see, what was necessary to see."

A very odd comment. The guy was giving me a serious case of the creeps.

"You sound like one of those conspiracy theorists - the ones that spread stories about the grassy knoll." Thinking about it, it wouldn't have surprised me if he was the unknown assassin.

"They have their place in the scheme of things."

"More myth making? That almost sounds like there is something to hide. It would make sense wouldn't it - to allow wild stories of secret deals and extraterrestrial visitors to persist. Gets the heat off the real story. And continual denial only adds weight to the belief. The more the government disclaims any knowledge, the more people will go looking for Area 51, while the real truths are played out elsewhere."

"You sound like someone I know."

"Oh...cynical?"

"He believes the government has something to hide."

"Didn't you just admit that?"

He stubbed out another cigarette. I noticed he only seemed to smoke about half of it - as if by time it burned to the middle the kick was gone and he had to light another to get that first nicotine rush again. He lit up again.

"No, I said conspiracy theorists serve a purpose. They keep the people happy."

"Happy?" I snorted, "By having the public believe the government is cheating them? That's not what I would call effective management."

"It's not about management - it's about belief. As long as the public has something to believe in they're happy. Religion doesn't work, the law is laughed at - bagging the government is the one thing everyone has in common. It gives them a sense of unity."

I was beginning to get the feeling that this conversation was going around in ever tightening circles. For the first time in years I actually felt as if I was losing the thread. I poured myself a drink and tried to get the conversation back on track.

"Having the public believe the government is plotting against us is a little more extensive than complaining about rising taxes. And, if believing in little green men was the key to happiness, wouldn't the world be one big Star Trek convention?"

He actually chuckled at that.

'That just proves my point. There are thousands of Trekkies.."

I interrupted, "Trekkers. Star Trek fans do not like being called Trekkies."

He shrugged and continued. "..Thousands of *Trekkers* in the world. Why? Because they all want to believe in Gene Roddenberry's vision of a united universe."

"I would hardly consider the Klingons, Romulans and Cardassians evidence of a united universe.....and what about the Borg?"

"Again that proves my point - in an ideal world there must be something wrong to make the other appear right. And besides..." He stubbed out his cigarette, "The Klingons have been allies since the Khitomer conference in 2293."

The last got a smile from me.

"I can understand the need for opposition, but why would the government allow itself to appear the bad guy. And all those alien abduction stories still portray the ETs as the villains. The two ideas practically cancel each other. There is no logic to....."

Suddenly I stopped. There was logic in the concept....twisted logic, but logic nevertheless.

It is has become a part of human nature to question the decisions of authority. The more the government denies corruption and secrecy, the more acceptable the idea becomes. Watergate proved that those in control are not infallible. It is commonplace now to suspect anything said by the our nation's leaders.....but it has become a comfortable suspicion....a bunny rug for the masses.

In the same way, alien abduction stories are now a part of the collective consciousness. We've heard the same tale so many times we only have to heard the words 'there was a bright light in the sky....'and we can fill in the blanks. Between the two we have been lulled into a false sense of security....of complacency.

I looked at the Chain Smoker. He was watching me. I didn't like the smile on his face.

He stood and reached for the cigarette pack.

"It all depends on what you believe in."

He turned and walked away.

I watched him leave then walked towards the rear of the bar. A few framed photos filled a corner near the store-room. In one of them, taken about 30 years ago, a group of men were seated around a table - unaware they were being photographed. The man who just left was one of them. I studied the photo for a moment then looked back towards the closed entrance.

"Or what you want us to believe."

THE END