© 1987 J. B. Chevallier THE R-RUH-RUH The R-ruh-ruh woke up on the Eiffel Tower. It was not the sunlight, but the thrilling density of carbon monoxide which called it into activity, as crowds of cars came into Paris, soon after sun-up. "Merde!" Jean-Pierre Delssange was making his morning coffee. Having set the filter full of ground coffee into the machine, he flicked it on, and then turned to his radio to catch the news. As he switched it on, he was met by a high-pitched wail. Changing stations, he heard such unpleasant sounds that he twisted the knob until he found silence. He glanced over at the coffee, already dripping, brown and fragrant, into the glass pot. Then he noticed a pulse, not quite a sound, coming from the speaker. As he strained to make it out, the odor of coffee weakened. He looked back at the pot. The liquid had gone completely clear. In a few seconds, even the odor was gone. An extremely fine thread of some 100 meters long, the R-ruh- ruh's physical body was hung like tinsel across the girders towards the top of the structure. Its color was cousin to silver, but only the most observant human eye would have caught the scattered glints of sun whose broken trail betrayed the sinuous visitor's form. No human eye and few human instruments could detect the fields of energy which made up the greater part of the creature. These were as different in kind as heart and liver, or as spleen and lung, and were disposed as neatly about the physical body as human organs about a spine. Invisible though they were, these 'organs' were not without effect. At present, only those TV and radio stations which transmitted through the tower were affected. For several hours now, none had been able to broadcast anything comprehensible, as the alien radiations randomly interacted with their carrier waves. In addition to the crackling, screeching and clicking of normal disruptions, other distortions occurred. Perfectly harmonious tones were felt, not heard, by their listeners. The usual blurring, flickering and speckling of TV screens gave way to deep, three-dimensional perspectives. More than one early riser was hurt trying to reach into their (still perfectly solid) TV screens. Already, before dawn, engineers were at the tower, checking the connections and running measurements on central screens. But nothing they found made sense. Then the R-ruh-ruh woke up. 'Waking up' for an R-ruh-ruh is a kind of tuning process. Each of the 'organs' which make it up - that is, each field of energy - is contracted and expanded across the appropriate spectrum. If these movements were converted to sound, human ears would hear a descending and ascending scale, harmonizing, at times, with itself. These extra-terrestrial aerobics serve a simple purpose. In its 'sleep', the R-ruh-ruh slackens the tension on its internal structure, so that impurities and worn-out nodes may be cast off. Returning to an active state, it must test each of its energy types across the full available range. So, like a violinist warming up, the R-ruh-ruh verifies its intonation by running through the basics. For human beings, however, the simplicity of this bit of inter- galactic hygiene was not apparent. The already complex side-effects of the R-ruh-ruh's 'snoring' escalated to the unimaginable. What had been a relaxed, aimless movement now took on intensity and precision. Each touch that the R-ruh-ruh tested translated into a deformation of the neighboring radio waves. Many of these had no perceptible effect. What effects occurred, however, were enough to upset the already irritable Parisians. Every café in Paris found it impossible to make coffee. The expresso lost its flavor and ran clear. Those wearing make-up now found themselves smeared with eye-catching, indelible colors. The transvestites returning from the Bois de Boulogne did not mind this; however, stylish businesswomen preparing for work were less amused. Anyone brushing their teeth found a viscous mass fixed to the enamel. Lit cigarettes gave off an odor of ammonia. These mishaps only struck those near radios or televisions. However, few made the connection quickly enough to shut off the offending receiver. By then, for many, the damage was done. Phones to most public agencies were soon ringing off the hook. Some calls were made to the National Aerospace Agency, but only because it was in the phone book. Nobody had considered that the problem might be extra-terrestrial in nature, except some members of the Society to Welcome Our Alien Friends - for whom any unusual event was due to off-Earth intervention. The waking alien's warm-ups went on, with effects not always perceptible to human beings. Amoebae and other simple life forms experienced a form of microscopic nausea. A science student at Jussieu, one eye on his microscope, was astounded to see paramecia go into convulsions as he twisted the dial on his FM Walkman in search of some good rock. When he pointed this out to the monitor, he was thoroughly dressed down for letting impurities get into his solutions and, grumbling, dumped the batch and started over. Then the creature switched to yet another set of frequencies, and humans again took notice. Pert and lithesome, Monique Dupré was strolling by a hot dog stand on the Rue D'Abbesses. The owner, a fat, sleepy man, was preparing for the rush of tourists, laying out strings of frankfurters. He turned for a moment to dial in his favorite accordeon music, as Monique stepped closer to his stand, avoidng a leering clochard who stood in her path. She and the owner were equally surprised when, still moist and uncooked, the pink hot dogs leapt one by one from the stand and stuck firmly to Monique's always attractive, and now magnetic, form. She tugged frantically at the sleek tubes, but they squirmed across her dress with a life all their own and would not be removed. Along the same street, filled with food shops and flower stalls, shouts were now heard from butcher shops as their owners found themselves assaulted by steaks, lamb chops and, in some cases, whole sides of beef. This sudden intimacy with their product was ghastly enough, but it was made worse by a slithering movement which accompanied the meat's new-found magnetism. One butcher began to apologize to his meat, to pitifully murmur pet names for lambs, cows and even goats he had met when a farm boy. Several began to froth at the mouth. More than one, when the morning's events were done, sold his shop and became a vegetarian. Similar situations could be seen on market streets all over Paris. In those supermarkets where radio music was piped in, customers contemplating the meat section found themselves tearing off cellophane- covered calves brains and chicken livers, all in motion under their wrappings. Most fast food places were spared, but in one, a busboy clicked on the radio to hear the lottery numbers and found himself covered in writhing hamburger patties. By now, an emergency had been discretely recognized and the military had intervened. Several vehicles had now converged at the base of the Eiffel Tower, and instruments were being assembled and connected. Inside one dull grey van, a small team of Army engineers was watching a screen which showed the result of a computer's analysis, as advanced equipment worked to make sense of the random patterns of energy picked up from the Tower's surface. Against a phantom outline of the the top of the Tower, the screen showed a series of pulsating lumps, some in sharp focus, others half-visible. These were the creature's 'organs', fields of force incompletely detected by the truck's equipment. The four engineers watching the screen were silent as the image appeared, listening as a pulsing sound same from a speaker by the screen - 'r-ruh-ruh, r-ruh-ruh'. One of the engineers mouthed the sound, giving the creature what it had never had: a name. When, at last, an engineer took a guess at what the image might represent, he was immediately contradicted by the others, who then contradicted each other. Several thought it reflected an abberation in the Tower itself, though they disagreed as to its origin. Only one timidly suggested that they might be viewing an unknown lifeform. The others were loudly shouting him down when their leader came in from outside. It took him a moment to restore order. "I don't care what it is - be sure we keep it in sight!" He then questioned each individually, while the others watched the screen. Meanwhile, the R-ruh-ruh, completing its tune-ups, was oblivious not only to human reactions, but to individual humans. On the interstellar scale of its habitual environment, it was itself no more than a microorganism, and its capacity for curiosity was in keeping with this status. Its virtually immortal life was spent in drifting between galaxies, waiting until it encountered one of the numerous energy sources which its peculiar structure allowed it to absorb. During these light-year long voyages, it was dormant. Only the presence of an energy source would tempt it into activity, and make it assume the form which now appeared on the engineers' screen. The R-ruh-ruh had detected a high concentration of energy on Earth, and in Paris in particular. In neighboring solar systems and on other planets, it had found many familiar forms of energy - nuclear, luminous, thermal. It had feasted on them and now, bloated, had been about to launch itself out of the Milky Way. Then, it had sensed an unfamiliar flavor, a rare and tantalizing form of energy: that given off by intelligent life, the psychic residue of the thought process, be it that of a scientist or a street cleaner. A bouquet that renewed its appetite, that tempted it again to stop and feed, to greedily take its fill of this exotic food. But first it needed to adapt its organs to digest this exotic food, to subtly modify its make-up to take it in. The R-ruh-ruh was preparing to ingest every mind in Paris. Watching the screen, one of the engineers suddenly sat up and tapped a teammate on the shoulder. The other, about to light a Gauloise, dropped it as he saw the screen. The series of lumps on the side of the Tower was starting to move downward. The R-ruh-ruh was going for a stroll. Among the experts who now crowded around the Tower, none noticed the silvery slithering which was the only visible evidence of the creature's descent. On their instruments, however, digital displays flickered and throbbed. More than one felt a violent nausea as the creature's incorporeal organs brushed them. In its random encounters through the Universe, the R-ruh-ruh had yet to encounter water. Had it not surfeited itself on other forms of hydrogen, it would now have been preparing to devour the Seine. As it was, it merely detected the ions above the water's surface, which it found as pleasing as a pup might a grassy path. And so it undulated down the stairs to the quai, and onto the water's surface. All around Paris, radios began to sing and chatter once more, while telvisions again came into focus. Applause was heard from cafés and apartments, and then the Parisians returned to their blasé routine of moping and complaining. Phones rang less at government offices, though elegant ladies in indelible orange make-up continued to call, irate, and, if they were in the political opposition, screaming that this was one more example of the government's incompetence. Butchers' relatives were still awaiting ambulances when they saw dripping meat, again inert, drop to the floor, no longer magnetic. Nonetheless, most still required sedation. Among the barges and the bateaux-mouches filled with tourists, the uneven agglomeration of forces which made up the R-ruh-ruh weaved without hurry down the Seine, in the general direction of Notre Dame. Its miniscule thread of a metallic body wavered loosely some meters above the water, but went unnoticed in the sun`s reflection. For a creature accustomed to light-years, the R-ruh-ruh had the very convenient faculty of being able to adapt its speed to its neighbors, be they raw masses of matter or sophisticated life forms. Now it matched its pace to that of the cars on the quais and the passing boats. The large bateaux-mouche, approximately as long as the visitor itself, was of more interest than the barges. The concentration of excited, if not always strong, tourist minds tempted its new digestive organ. It was not yet ready to dine. But the proximity of a potential meal piqued its appetite. When the boat reached Notre Dame, the R-ruh-ruh inadvertantly consumed another form of energy, provoking surprise and some indignation. With admirable if unjustified optimism, each tour boat's passengers inevitably used flashes to photograph the church. This, despite the fact that it was broad daylight and the church was at any rate too far away to be lit by these puny lights. Futile as this effort was, the R-ruh-ruh now rendered it all the more useless by snapping up every burst of light as it left the flash. Frustrated curses rang out on all sides. But only the owners of instant cameras had a further shock - uneven colored patterns were imposed on their pictures of Notre Dame. They could not know that they had captured the very small part of the R-ruh-ruh's spectrum which was visible to film, if not to the naked eye. The truck which held the force detector was making its way laboriously through the traffic on the Right Bank, trying to keep the incomprehensible object on the screen. The engineer who had insisted this was a living creature looked smug. The others stared pointedly at the screen, directing the driver from time to time through an intercom. Their departure had been delayed by the tangle of equipment and human beings around the base of the tower, but they had managed to get the creature back in sight just as it rippled down the stairs to the quai. Taking the east bound highway on the Right Bank, they had started to tail the invisible creature. At the request of their leader, a helicopter now hovered discreetly overhead, in radio contact with the truck. In one of the lofts behind the Bastille, Le Thing was waking up much earlier than usual. His reputation as a rock star was already growing, helped greatly by his choice of a stage name that most Frenchmen had to struggle to pronounce. When a lycée student said, "I went to hear 'Le Ting' last night", there was always another ready to show off his or her English by saying, "Pas 'Le Ting' - Ca se prononce, 'Le Theeeng!". This morning, Le Thing felt GOOD. ALL RIGHT. READY TO ROCK AND ROLL. This was as much due to the delayed action of some orange pills he had ingested before collapsing on his waterbed, as it was to the residual excitement from his previous night's concert - and to his eagerness to try the new toy his record company had obtained for him from a Japanese electronics corporation. The latest in synthesizers. A soundmaker to end all sounds. A chorus of angels in a keyboard. A demon machine. The ultimate in ultra-sound. His, to use as he wished.... The Machine. Trembling, he clung to his sink long enough to run some hot water, mixed it with half as much Nescafé, and prepared to turn on the Machine. Having followied the length of the Seine down past the Ile de la Cité and the Ile St. Louis, the R-ruh-ruh now turned up into the canal by the Bastille, sensing the open tracks of the metro at the canal's end. The combination of electricity and a dense concentration of human minds was almost more than it could bear. But it had already fed on other forms of the first, and it was not yet ready for the second. So it waited. Above the metro, another strong, stimulating odor came through: carbon monoxide. The crush of cars about the weathered green column which held the 'Genie' of the Bastille was like a field of lavender to the R-ruh-ruh. Its filiform physical body slithered up a wall and towards the traffic circle. Heading off the quais, the driver of the engineers' truck tried frantically to keep up with the instructions being shouted from the rear of the truck. The engineers, having tacitly agreed that this was a living creature, were horrified to see it approach the metro. If the creature liked radio waves, how would it react to a direct dose of power from the tracks? They were relieved, then, when it veered to the right, apparently uninterested. Unfortunately, its shape on the screen was now obscured among the obstacles formed by the Bastille traffic. Overhead, the helicopter followed still, guided from the ground. Initially, the R-ruh-ruh had to weave among the cars. But nothing it had encountered elsewhere had prepared it for Parisian traffic. Soon it rose, floating on the heavy air of the pollution. Le Thing was now as awake as he ever got and, his heart pounding, began to flip switches on his amplifier, enhanced power supplies, re-amplified speakers and - the Machine. The truck had again located the R-ruh-ruh and was describing its position above the cars to the helicopter pilot. The creature had now crossed the traffic cicle and continued up the Rue de la Roquette. Wary of the traffic - which it perceived as single, threatening organism -, it let itself go higher and began to skim the rooftops. All the while it had been traveling, first beside the bateau- mouche and then through the traffic circle, it had been absorbing the residue of human mental energy and slowly adapting a suitable part of its multi-functional force to handle a great quantity of this new food all at once. But first, the new, temporary organ must be tested. Le Thing now had power enough for a concert hall behind each key on his new keyboard. Despite the fact that he was the only one in his building, neighbors along the whole block had frequently complained about the volume of his practice sessions. Recently, he had restrained himself. But this morning was special. It wasn't enough just to hear the Machine. It had to be felt. Its sound had to be lived in. It had to be breathed. Dodo, an agile, but not very bright, burglar, was at that moment clambering across the mansard roofs not far from Le Thing's loft. He knew a lot of musicians lived on the area and was planning to steal some guitars and perhaps a synthesizer. He suddenly stopped, touched both by fear and a very physical nausea. The fear was due to the helicopter he heard hovering nearby. The nausea, though he did not suspect it, was provoked by the proximity of the R-ruh-ruh. Sitting down, he tried to be inconspicuous until the helicopter had gone. But as he did so, he was stretched upright and held taut, as his head gave off a platinum flash. Then he collapsed, and slid to the edge of the slanted roof, before falling to the courtyard below. The R-ruh-ruh had had its first taste of a human mind. And right away, it wanted more. The helicopter pilot, who had been scanning the area below, saw the flash about the thief's head, and the dramatic reaction which accompanied it. He duly reported this to the team leader, who was horrified. He knew the mysterious visitor had caused this dramatic death. But how, he had no idea. Nor did he know how to stop the creature from doing it again. The R-ruh-ruh was now slowing down, and beginning to prepare itself for a more thorough tasting. This, though the creature could not know it, would decimate that large portion of Paris' artistic community which lived in the lofts by the Bastille. Just as it was preparing this next test, an awful sensation overcame it. Piercing frequencies, conflicting with each other, but locked in a pointed intensity, wracked a whole range of its own wavelengths. Directly after, another pair of frequencies struck, these accompnied by contorted electromagnetic waves. Then a set of resonances were set up, feeding off of each other, and refusing to stop. Le Thing was ecstatic. Enthralled. Engraged with joy. He had split, stretched, scattered, scratched, slaughtered sound, with a few strokes of his keyboard, a few modifications of frequencies he could not even hear, and several simultaneous settings on the Machine's sequencer, which re-played the same pattern of notes. Sound this distorted was no longer sound. It was thin metallic threads through human veins. It was uranium sunlight. It was riots by anti-molecular demonstrators. It was the Creation re-played in slow motion, and then speeded up into one unbearable blur. At this point, several of Le Thing's neighbors were on the phone, speaking urgently. But they were trying to make themselves understood to hospitals, not the police. None had thought to complain about Le Thing`s music, because none had even remotely imagined it was music. The R-ruh-ruh had never heard music, and wouldn't have recognized it as such if it had. But it knew what it didn't like. And this was definitely it. Desperately compressing its energy-organs, it tried to avoid the assault which seemed - to its non-analytical intelligence - to come from the planet itself. Its new mind-sucking organ did not survive this frantic regrouping and, in an instant, became an ineffectual mass of shuddering waveforms. As this process took place, the helicopter pilot was finally able to see something. The fine gleaming of the R-ruh-ruh's body was now surrounded by a flickering webs of unstable color, as the chaotic clustering of the creature's organs provoked conflict and combustion among incompatible forms of energy. The pilot saw this length of half- visible fireworks curl in on itself, and roll back toward the Rue de la Roquette. Below, the truck finally got the creature's image back on the screen as it moved towards the street, and the engineers listened breathlessly to the pilot's report. They focussed the image and watched the creature's convulsions, fascinated. The driver was complaining about an awful racket coming from the street, but they i