Well, it happened to me the other day and what I did was nothing.I just stood rooted to the spot, speechless with terror.
It was during a Sunday excursion on a mountaintop in the Porto Yermano area. I had become separated from my companions and was picking wild anemones when I suddenly heard a swishing sound. There, only a few yards away from me, was this flying saucer looking like a rounded Porsche 924 with a plastic dome. The dome opened but no little green men came out of it. Instead, I saw four tentacles lift the dome and set it to one side. Then the tentacles gripped the sides of the cockpit and what looked like the head of a giant octopus came into sight. It fixed me with pale, translucent eyes. Still immobile and speechless, I thanked my lucky stars and my geriatric procaine pills that I was not struck down then and there by a massive coronary — so great was my fright.
The creature had a sort of mask attached to its beak and a stream of what looked like soap bubbles was coming out of the cockpit. Obviously, the earth’s atmosphere was not suitable for it and it was breathing whatever they breathe where it came from.
Next thing I knew, abstruse mathematical formulae were streaming through my mind. I realized the creature was trying to communicate with me in the universal language of mathematics. And it was doing it by telepathy! When it got no response, it shot another stream of mathematics at me and I think I recognized Ε = mc2.
‘Look here old boy,’ I thought to myself. ‘If you think you’ve found another blinking Einstein, you’re sadly mistaken. Try again.’
When we got down to the value of pi and when I was able to communicate the information that the square of the hypotenuse of a right-angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares of the other two sides, the octopus seemed satisfied. Γ felt rather mortified that it should think man’s mathematical know¬ledge had not advanced beyond Pythagoras and I tried to communicate the fact that it was I who was the dum-dum.
It shot back at me the information that it knew man had advanced to the point of nuclear fission but that it had been assigned this area and wanted to discover more about it — what it was called, the number of inhabitants, whether it was a separate country, the location of its borders, its relation to other countries, and so on.
When I had answered all these questions to the best of my ability and the telepathic bombardment had stopped for a while, I felt it was my turn to ask for a little information. It turned out the octopus had come from a planet in Alpha Centauri where its species had evolved a superior intelligence and had mastered the art of space travel. It was a member of a scientific mission that had been observing our planet for a number of years. The time had come for them to go home and each space pilot had been ordered to bring back the most important and most intelligent human being in its area for further study.
I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘You realize, of course, that I am not the specimen you are looking for,’ I communicated to the space creature.
Ί realized that from the very beginning,’ it said. ‘Who is your ruler?’
It then struck me that the fate of one of my fellow Greeks depended on my answer and I was nonplused. The octopus could read my mind like an open book.
‘Don’t concern yourself about that. Just answer my question,’ it said.
‘Well, we don’t have a ruler as such. We have a President who is the head of state, and we have a Prime Minister who is the head of government,’ I explained.
‘Who is your President?’
Ά man called Constantine Tsatsos. but he won’t do for you,’ I hastened to add.
‘Why not? Is he not important? Is he not intelligent?’
‘Oh, yes. He’s very important and very intelligent but, but — he gets very seasick on space ships and he’ll never make it back to Alpha Centauri.’
As I said this I convinced myself it was the truth and the octopus seemed satisfied with my explanation.
‘What about this Prime Minister. What is his name?’
‘Constantine Karamanlis. But he won’t do either, I assure you.’
‘Why not, is he not important and is he not intelligent?’
‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘He is very important and very intelligent and he saved the country from chaos three years ago — but, but — you see, his mind is on other things these days. He won’t help you at all.’
‘What is his mind on?’
‘Oh, various things. He likes to play golf, you see. And when he isn’t playing golf, he likes to go to a seaside restaurant and eat seafood.’
‘Seafood? What kind of seafood?’ This question was shot at me with such force that I nearly fell over.
‘Well, he likes to start with fried squid and boiled octopus, seasoned with oil and vinegar and a little oregano…’
‘He eats octopus?’ This question came at me with such force that I did fall over. This was going a bit too far. I didn’t mind answering his questions but I resented being bowled over by them.
Of course he eats octopus, Ί replied angrily. ‘Every Greek eats octopus. It’s one of our favourite dishes.’
The pale translucent eyes had grown wider and I thought I detected a hint of horror and revulsion in the creature’s hitherto expressionless face.
Next thing I knew the tentacles had grabbed the plastic dome and slammed it shut. The head withdrew and with another swishing sound the spaceship soared aloft and was out of sight in the twinkling of an eye.
I realize, of course, that nobody is going to believe this story but I don’t care. I am happy in the knowledge that if Karamanlis is the saviour of Greece I, in a way, am the saviour of Karamanlis. And for me, that is duty well enough done.
