A large gray alien landed his fist in the face of a smaller dark-green alien.
The smaller alien flew backwards, crashing into the lockers behind him. Before he could steady himself, he found another gray fist crashing into his face.
For a while, the small alien wobbled back and forth across the hallway. He then plopped against a wall.
The gray alien marched forcefully toward him. Grabbing his smaller prey by the head, the gray alien slammed him into the wall. As the gray alien grunted furiously, he revealed curvy-pointed lower teeth, like those of a warthog.
Large gray fists flew again and again, and the head of the smaller alien flew back and forth.
Finally, the little one found himself on the floor, groaning weakly. Struggling to lift his head, he watched as the large gray alien walked away. Once his attacker was gone, the smaller alien plopped his broken head back down on the floor and passed out.
Imagine the voice of Rod Serling.
"The attack you just witnessed is unusual in that it was not a physical attack. This attack took place in the mind of a student. That student's mind now lies in ruins, much like a campus that has been turned to rubble.
"This mental attack has taken place at a new school that is in its early experimental stages. Three different alien species are trying to learn about each other, to learn how to resolve conflicts. One wrong move, one bad decision could bring interplanetary war.
"In regard to that potential conflict, one school leader is about to make a disastrous decision. The consequences will play out in 'The Twilight Zone.'"
You hear the music sting from the end of the theme for "The Twilight Zone." As tinkling music plays, we fade into a scene in a large school hallway where a green alien lies on his side groaning. A tall skinny alien with a gray bald head runs toward him.
When he found Curtron lying on his side, Frederick quickly rolled him over and lightly tapped his green face.
"Curtron, what has happened?" he asked.
Curtron wasn't quite able to focus his purple eyes on the Student Commander.
"A mind-attack," the Elrysian groaned. "Matroy beat me up. In my mind."
Frederick caught a mental glimpse of Curtron's mental state: the little dark-green alien lay among rubble, his face blackened and his tentacles all twisted.
"We'll get you to a doctor," Frederick said. He summoned campus police; they quickly transported Curtron to a med-center. There, a doctor-droid quickly strapped the patient to healing devices.
Members of Curtron's race were able to heal quickly, at least physically. Complete mental recovery could take much longer. Once he got the initial treatment he needed, Curtron was quickly released.
Later Curtron met with the Student Commander in his office. There was no need for Curtron to describe the attack: he simply showed the Stu-Com a mental image of it. There was the Zeltron using his giant fists to land one damaging blow after another.
Once he experienced it, Frederick joined his two large tentacle-hands together.
"It is very important that we keep this quiet," Frederick said.
Curtron, having previously had his head bowed, now looked up. "Of course, Student Commander. We will simply...get some kind of help for Matroy. He seems...very angry. He…attacks people for no apparent reason. If we get him some help, he'll be all right then. We'll be...all right."
Curtron's head wobbled up and down as he spoke in a halting hesitant fashion; Frederick did not seem to notice.
"We must keep this quiet," the Stu-Com repeated. His face was very grim and very serious.
With his head trembling a little and his purple eyes all wide, Curtron nodded.
In response, the Student Commander frowned deeply. Though the college was not strictly a military academy, the leader of the college was given the title "Student Commander" as part of Dogon tradition.
It was also typical of a Dogon to repeat himself for emphasis.
"No one must know about this," the Student Commander said firmly as he narrowed his eyes.
Curtron responded with a gentle grin. "I don't see how...anyone could know of it. The attack took place...in my mind. It is hard for others...to understand that, whether they are...Dogon or Zeltron."
"That is exactly the point." As the Stu-Com rose, he towered over his desk. Peering down at Curtron, he spoke in his most authoritative voice. "I do not need an incident that will set off inter-species conflict. We must not have even a hint of conflict. Do you understand?"
"Understood….tudent Commander." Curtron gulped a little.
Frederick tightened his chin as he offered a look that was either disdainful or dismissive.
"I am about to face a very important political appointment." The bulging chin shot up.
Curtron nodded his chin. "I understand, Student Commander. In fact, this is a...wonderful opportunity. What has happened...could help you...with your appointment."
Frederick almost glared, his tentacle hands under his chin. "Help? How?"
Curtron put his own tentacles under his chin. "This other student seems very...troubled. If you could get help for him, it would...help you." The purple eyes of Curtron lit up as he waved a suctioned tentacle hand. "If you help Matroy,...it could help you...with your appointment."
The bright green eyes of Frederick widened slightly then turned red as he glared down at Curtron.
"I have the appointment well in hand. What I don't need is this unnecessary conflict." First, he waved a tentacle then he gave Curtron a skeptical look. "Besides, you don't look seriously injured."
"No, sir. The effects...of a mental attack...don't show up...as physical injuries or 'ow-ies.' It is just hard to...think or….talk." Curtron looked a little confused. "I will...recover in time. But Matroy can't...go on the way he is. You must...get help for Matroy."
Frederick scowled. "My responsibilities are quite heavy. Do you really think I have time for that?"
The grin of Curtron widened, though maybe it also flickered a little.
"It would take...very little, Commander. Maybe a little understanding. Maybe…a few words of comfort. A little bit of kindness. You wouldn't even...have to...do anything yourself. You have experts...on campus...who can help...Matroy."
Once again, Curtron lit up as he waved a tentacle. "You have Gorgas! He would be...a big help. Just take a little time to...turn Matroy over...to him. The rewards would be so great! You would...eliminate a threat to other students, to the campus, to all our people. To both our peoples!"
The Stu-Com snorted. "I do not think you understand the situation. Diplomacy is required. If I go to a Zeltron student and suggest something is wrong with him, his people would take offense. It could set off interplanetary war."
Curtron almost laughed. "I don't see how. It would be…very kind and caring."
"That shows how little you know," the Commander sneered.
Once again, Curtron gulped. He then struggled to speak.
"I may...very well be...ignorant, Commander. I have undergone...a mental attack. I may not...think or...speak as clearly as I once did."
The hostile look on the Commander's face softened. Only for a moment.
"Yes, it is too bad about your condition. But here is the situation: If I were to confront Matroy about his problem, the Zeltrons would think I was calling all of them weak."
"He is not weak...just because...he needs a little help. We all...need...a little help...now and then." As he struggled to get the words out, Curtron had a look of confusion on his face.
"You understand nothing," Frederick retorted.
A moment of stunned silence followed then Curtron shrugged his slight shoulders.
"I could...tell someone else about this. I guess."
"No!" the Stu-Com shouted. "You will not. You will talk to no one."
Curtron had already started to rise. Now he sat back down.
"I must...tell someone. Matroy needs help. I must...tell someone...who will help him."
"I cannot allow you to speak to anyone. I will place you in a detention lab where you will be programmed to remain silent."
Now Curtron looked very frightened, and his face wrinkled up.
"Please...do not...do that. The consequences,,,could be…very grave."
The Commander blinked then glared.
"Are you threatening me?" he said. As he spoke in a grim voice, he pressed a button on his desk.
For a long while, Curtron silently struggled to form thoughts; the struggle was seen in his face Finally, with the Commander glaring at him all the while, Curtron managed to get these words out:
"There will be consequences."
The student bowed his head. Clacking noises on linoleum indicated campus police had arrived.
"I can...do something…to you," Curtron mumbled. "Not...very much. But I can do it. It will be…the least of your problems."
Towering over his desk, Frederick pointed with a long suctioned tentacle.
"You have heard it yourselves: this student has threatened me."
"We're sorry, Curtron." The officer sounded apologetic; this was ironic because the officer was a robot, all shiny metal and long wiry arms.
Curtron gave the Commander a look as he tilted his head toward the officer. "The machine…shows... more compassion...than you."
The towering figure of the Commander stood close to tiny Curtron.
"You have threatened me, a student-commander, and there are witnesses. You are sentenced to the slave labor camps. There, you will be too busy to 'tell anyone.' And you will not be able to speak once the detention lab is done with you."
Curtron struggled until an electronic voice said, "Do not resist." Holding still, Curtron glared up at the Commander.
"You might be...surprised...what I can do. Even from...a slave labor camp."
"More threats! You increase your sentence!"
The robot officers hauled Curtron away, with the student yelling every stepf of the way, The office doors slammed shut.
Frederick quickly banished Curtron from his mind. This was, after all, for the sake of interplanetary harmony. For the greater good.
For Frederick, Curtron did not come to mind again until some years later.
During those years, life went on as normal for the Student Commander. He got his appointment; he became High Leader of the School.
For Frederick, each day was spent enjoying the privileges and benefits of his position. In his view, he was entitled to those benefits; he had done a great deal to get them.
There was one day, however, when he walked into his office, and lightning flashed, and everything around him turned gray.
Suddenly, in his mind, he was back on the playground, and Curtron was there.
Just as suddenly, everything changed. He was at Prom, dancing with Sheryl Louise, and there in the background was Curtron, tentacle arms folded in front of his torso. Bathed in gray light, the grim-faced Curtron glared at the Student Commander.
On Last School Day, Curtron was there with all the happy graduates in their robes and caps.
The happy graduates were replaced with screaming soldiers. While these soldiers scrambled across the battlefield amid explosions and gunfire, Curtron stood in the middle of it all. With his tentacle arms still crossed, he stood impassive and unyielding.
As Frederick lectured in the auditorium of the School, the students quickly changed in front of him, different classes of students as the years went by. Still and silent, Curtron stood directly in front of the podium. As the students behind him changed rapidly, Curtron remained the same. All the while, he glared at the Commander.
"What is this?" the commander shouted.
While the students simply stared, Curtron explained in a low grim voice.
"You may have robbed me of speech but I can still communicate to your mind. I can do even more than that." He lowered his head as he focused his glare. "While not every member of my species can do this, I have the ability to invade your mind and take it over."
Curtron grabbed the Student Commander and wrestled with him. As they spun around while grasping each other by the shoulders, they moved across the stage of the classroom auditorium. As they did, students screamed as they sharply jumped to their feet.
The two fighters then maneuvered across a battlefield where they dodged explosions but then collided with young men in tuxedos; the young women, clad in their colorful sparkling gowns, scattered.
As they continued to spin around, Curtron roared loudly; the Commander simply yelped. As little kids stared, Curtron pinned Frederick down on the playground.
The Commander grabbed Curtron by the shoulders and succeeded in rolling both of them over.
The witnesses continued to stare: soldiers in uniforms, young women in gowns, and children in colorful play clothes. While they stared, Frederick jumped to his feet and gave Curtron a mighty kick, sending him flying.
"Get out of my head!" the commander roared.
Abruptly, he was back in his office. After he spent some time gasping loudly while he adjusted mentally, Frederick quickly ran to the office of Grogas. That person was the school's expert on the three alien races.
Once he heard about the situation, Grogas responded calmly while he continued to shelve books in his office.
"That is a rare situation but not without precedent. If you find this student in your mind again, you must draw on your happiest best thoughts." He raised a long gray finger. "But not your memories. Someone like Curtron can create illusions based on facts. Think about your dreams for the future instead."
"No facts," Frederick muttered as he nodded his head. "Dreams of the future instead."
Frederick kept this advice in mind.
One day as he walked into his office, there he was back in the gray world of memories. Curtron was there. Immediately, Frederick thought of all the greatness he would enjoy in the future.
He pictured himself as a great World Leader being cheered on by a massive crowd. That crowd was below him as he stood on the balcony of a magnificent mansion; a lovely adoring wife was at his side.
Once Frederick pictured all that, his enemy vanished, and all the dreary gray with him.
After that, Frederick was constantly on guard but there seemed to be no further mind-attacks.
The years went by.
Three years after sending Curtron away, Frederick heard that Matroy had graduated, and he was really making something of himself as head of a giant military plant. The student-commander congratulated himself on his great wisdom and his policy of non-interference; his skillful handling of diplomacy had preserved peace between the three races.
More years went by. Frederick rose higher and higher in prominence, his lovely wife by his side. (No children, no time for that.) One day he stood on the balcony of his large beautiful mansion and surveyed all that was his.
That was when another mind-attack took place.
It began simply enough with simple gentle words.
"Hello, Commander."
A flash of lightning briefly illuminated Curtron. Afterwards, he was awash in gray light. He looked no older but much more grim and angry.
In this mental confrontation, the Com towered twenty-feet over him. "Get out of my mind."
Curtron stepped forward. "Make me," he said.
There was strain in the Commander's face as he tried to picture his ambitions for the future. But what more was there to achieve?
Frederick sagged as his opponent stood very close to him. Curtron put his head very close to the bulging nose and eyes of Frederick; half of Curtron's face was in gray-light, half in darkness.
The former student spoke in a very grim tight voice.
"I've been saving up over the years, Commander. Or may I call you 'Jerk-Moron-Idiot?'"
The last three words were a rough translation of far more insulting terms; Curtron said them in Frederick's native language.
The Commander's face flashed red.
"How dare you disrespect me!"
"What of the massive disrespect you've shown me? Years of slave labor just for standing up to you a little. Wasn't it enough my mind was already diminished as well? Then you had to take away my power of speech!"
Frederick scowled. "You needed to know your place! And you were threatening to upset the delicate balance of power in the universe."
"Having someone as arrogant as you involved in planetary relations also threatens things like balance."
"I know what I am doing!"
"Ah, yes. The all-knowing Commander. But you didn't know I was probing your mind in the first few years after you exiled me." When Curtron moved in just a little more, his entire face was visible, and that face bore anger and wrath. "You've never once felt a moment of sadness for what you've done to me."
"Of course I did! I love you and your people. That's why I did what I did. For the greater good."
Curtron snorted. The purple eyes narrowed. "Ah, yes. The more someone professes great love for another species, the more you can be sure he's full of hate. Or full of something anyway."
The High Leader sneered.
"What kind of mind-attack do you think you can conduct against me now?"
"Oh. It is already done."
Now Frederick blinked in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"You think you have spent all these years living a wonderful life, enjoying great success. Even Matroy turned out well! Thanks to you. You think. But, in fact, some years ago you went insane and lost everything. Your position, your wife, your home. All lost. Since then, everything you have experienced is an illusion. You've been living in an insane asylum."
The Leader gaped. "That is not possible. According to my expert, someone with your ability is only able to create illusions based on fact, what already exists."
"You believe so strongly that you deserve success that it was easy to treat that like fact." He grinned. "Besides, your expert was me. Another illusion. An easy one. Even while I was weak."
The walls dissolved, and Frederick found himself lying in a bed, surrounded by other people in beds. A man hovered over him, a bald man, very large with a mustache and a bulging chin and a rather unhappy look.
On his white coat was a badge ID. It said "Doctor Zerner."
Frederick sat up and gasped.
"Doctor, is it true? Have I been in an insane asylum for years?"
"Fourteen years," the doctor mumbled without looking up. He pushed buttons on a tablet. "But don't worry. We'll take good care of you."
Frederick looked back and forth.
"Who are all these people?"
"Victims of the War. The Zeltrons were so outraged by your injustice they declared war on all your people."
"My injustice?" Frederick sputtered.
The doctor nodded as he winced slightly; this might have been a look of disapproval.
"The student, the one you refused to get help for. Matroy. Eventually he went on a rampage and destroyed the minds of dozens of students. Didn't take much. Most of them were education majors."
Frederick tossed back and forth; he discovered, to his horror, he was restrained. "No," he said in a weak raspy voice. "This is not so."
"You're lucky you went insane and retreated into a fantasy world. You missed the War. When the Zeltrons learned you failed to give one of their own a better future—they could, in fact, see that future—they declared war on all your people."
Frederick felt the need to retreat into a happy memory. So he recalled the graduation of Matroy.
Oh, how happy Matroy looked, all beeping and cheerful smiles and multiple dimples and ripples.
But it wasn't real.
The happy illusion slipped away, and Frederick was back with the doctor listening to more unhappy news.
"Most of your people are now like zombies, and the school is a pile of rubble."
Frederick felt it in his mind, the agony of destroyed minds. As Frederick gasped and trembled, the doctor turned his tablet around and showed him a video. The video showed several Dogons all wide-eyed with mouths agape; these Dogons staggered around a pile of rubble. Next to that pile of rubble was a sign for the School.
The doctor's form dissolved, and all the other doctors and nurses changed with him. They were all Enrysians.
Their patients were all Dagon.
As Frederick stared in horror, the voice of Rod Serling was heard.
"In trying to prevent interplanetary war, a school leader became the cause of such a war. A tragedy that could only play out this way in one place: 'The Twilight Zone.'"
A footnote:
The Elrysian doctor in front of Frederick changed form.
Curtron smiled at him.
"Welcome to your new home, Commander," he said.