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“Well, I'll just get you a little more water then,” and she was off for the water jug before I
couldgethertogivememybill.Thepeopleatthenexttablewatchedthiswithinterestand
smiled a smile that said, “We are completely off our heads. How are you?”
Afterwards, I had a walk around the town-that is to say, I walked up one side of the street
and down the other. For the size of the place it was a nice town. It had two bookstores, a
picturegallery,agiftshop,amoviehouse.PeopleonthesidewalksmiledatmeasIpassed.
This was beginning to worry me. Nobody, even in America, is that friendly. What did they
want from me? Up at the far end of the street there was a BP service station, the first one I
had seen in America. Feeling vaguely homesick for Blighty, I walked up to have a look at
it and was disappointed to see that there wasn't anything particularly British about it. The
guybehindthecounterwasn'tevenwearing aturban.Whenhesawmelookinginthewin-
dow he smiled at me with that same strange, unsettling smile. Suddenly I realized what it
was-it was the look of someone from outer space, that odd, curiously malevolent B-movie
smile of a race of interplanetary creatures who have taken over a small town in the middle
of nowhere as their first step towards becoming … Earth Masters. I know this sounds im-
probable, but crazier things have happened-look who was in the White House, for Christ's
sake. As I strolled back to the motel, I gave everyone I passed that same eerie smile, think-
ing I ought to keep on their good side, just in case. “And you never know,” I remarked to
myself in a low voice, “if they do take over the planet, there might be some openings for a
guy of your talents.”
In the morning I arose very early to a day that promised splendor. I peered out of my motel
window. A pink dawn was spilled across the sky. I dressed quickly and hit the road before
Littleton had even begun to stir. A few miles out of town I crossed the state line. Vermont
presentedanaltogethergreener,tidierprospectthanNewHampshire.Thehillswerefatand
soft, like a sleeping animal. The scattered farms looked more prosperous and the meadows
climbed high up the rolling hillsides, giving the valleys an alpine air. The sun was soon
high and warm. On a ridge overlooking an expanse of hazy foothills, I passed a sign that
said PEACHAM, SETTLED 1776 and beyond that stood a village. I parked beside a red
general store and got out to have a look around. There was no one about. Presumably the
people of Littleton had come in the night and taken them off to the planet Zog.
I walked past the Peacham Inn-white clapboard, green shutters, no sign of life-and
wandered up a hill, past a white Congregational church and pleasant, dozing houses. At
the crest of the hill stood a broad green, with an obelisk and flagpole, and beside it an old
cemetery. A zephyr wind teased the flag. Down the hill, across a broad valley, a series of
pale green and brown hills rolled away to the horizon, like the swells of a sea. Below me
the church bell tolled the hour, but otherwise there was not a sound. This was as perfect
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