Free The Coming by Joe Haldeman

shop. Small's Jalousies and Windows? Government's gonna try to scare us, spend tax money protecting us from these goddamn things. But it's bullshit. You know? If they wanted to get us, they would've snuck up on us, right? A burglar doesn't ring the bell on his way in, does he? I think it'll be real interesting."
    "Thank you, Mister…"
    "Small, Ed Small. Small's Jalousies and Windows." He leaned toward the camera and waved. "'When you think of windows, think Small.'"
    A few people had stopped to watch the interview. Dan zeroed in on a woman with her son, eight or nine years old.
    "What do you think about all this, young man?"
    "About the monsters?"
    "Le … roy," his mother warned.
    "You think they'll be monsters?" Dan asked.
    "They're always monsters," he explained patiently.
    "He watches too much cube." His mother glared at the camera.
    "Mother. They're always monsters because that's what people want. The guys who made this up know that."
    The mother stared at her son. Dan cleared his throat. "So you think it's all made up?"
    "Well, it's on the cube," the boy said, explaining everything.
    Dan laughed unconvincingly. "Do you share your son's skepticism?"
    "Not really, no. I'm hoping it will be something … really wonderful. What the man you just talked to said, that's true. If they meant us harm they wouldn't have announced they were coming."
    "You don't think it could be a hoax?"
    "No—it's already too big."
    "Well, I think it's a hoax," the man behind her said. He was ebony black, shimmering skintights like rainbow paint on a weight-lifter's body. "They had it orchestrated months in advance, maybe years."
    "Who are 'they,' then?"
    "Well, who do you think has the money? If it's not the federal government then it's a group of conglomerates working together—assuming the last act of the farce will be a spaceship landing on the White House lawn."
    A live one, Dan thought. He made the hand signal that instructed the camera to move in tight. "And what will the government or conglomerates gain?"
    "More and better control over us. Thought control!" He held up both fists. "Watch and wait. These aliens will be presented to us as unassailably superior savants. What they say is true, we will have to accept as truth. Who could argue with creatures who came umpty-ump light-years to save us?"
    "You have it pretty well thought out," Dan said.
    "I used to be paid to think," he said. "Dr. Cameron Davisson, at your service. Ex-professor of philosophy at this august institution."
    "Um … what do you do now, Dr. Davisson?"
    "I try to serve as a bad example."
    "Ah…" Out of the corner of his eye, Dan saw a vision of loveliness. "Ma'am? Pardon me, señorita?"
    The woman stopped and looked at him. She was a classic Latin beauty—statuesque; haughty, aristocratic features. Ebony hair and skin like dark honey set off by a simple white dress that loved the flesh it clung to and partially exposed.
    "I'm interviewing people here about the Coming."
    "The aliens? I think it's marvelous. Have to get to work." She turned and walked away and even the camera stared at her. I wouldn't mind going to work with you, Dan thought, but he didn't know half of it.
     

Gabrielle
    She'd forgotten to take the gel home with her and so that meant an extra fifteen minutes without pay at work, feet in the stirrups. So it didn't make any difference that she'd worn underwear. She couldn't have worn this dress without underwear, anyhow, and it was a hot-weather favorite.
    Two blocks into campus, she turned into the building discreetly labeled IISR , the International Institute for Sexual Research. What a joke.
    She took an elevator to the top floor and went into Lab 3 and locked the door behind her.
    "Gabby? You're early." A bald man looked up from a machine.
    "Forgot to take the gel home. Afternoon, Louis."
    "Hi, Gab." A young man lounged by the window, naked, scanning a magazine about popular music. There was nothing unusual about him except for the length and breadth