“You said the EDA was formed over four decades ago. So we’ve known this alien invasion was coming for that long?”
He nodded. “Since the mid-seventies,” he said. “That was when the EDA first began using certain elements of pop culture to subliminally prepare the world’s population for the invasion. That’s why the EDA secretly poured billions into the fledgling videogame industry back then—they recognized its potential military training applications.” He smiled. “They helped get Star Wars made back in 1977 for pretty much the same reason.”
“Pardon me?”
Ray held up three fingers—Scout’s Honor. “I didn’t believe it either, when I first found out. But it’s true. Star Wars was one of the first movie projects the EDA helped finance, because their think tanks told them its unique subject matter could help the war effort. George Lucas never even found out about it. He always thought Alan Ladd, Jr., deserved all the credit for green-lighting Star Wars, but in reality, the EDA put up a large chunk of the budget through a bogus network of film and television financing companies that could never be traced back to—”
“Hold on. You’re telling me that Star Wars was secretly financed by the Earth Defense Alliance to serve as anti-alien propaganda?”
He nodded. “That’s a gross oversimplification, but yeah—more or less.”
I thought about the timeline my father had made in his old journal.
“What about all of the other science fiction movies and shows released over the past forty years?” I asked. “You’re telling me they were all created as anti-alien propaganda, too?
“Of course not,” he said. “Not all of them. Just certain key properties, like Star Wars, which played a key role in the militarization of science fiction films, TV shows, and videogames in the late seventies. Space Invaders came out the year after Star Wars was released, and humanity has been fighting off videogame aliens ever since. Now you know why. The EDA made sure of it.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” he said. “All of the recent Star Trek reboots and Star Wars sequels were a key part of the final wave of the EDA’s subliminal preparation of the world’s population. I doubt that Viacom, Disney, or J. J. Abrams ever knew what was really going on, or who was pulling the strings.”
I was quiet for a long time as I took all of this in.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me about any of this?” I finally asked.
He gave me a sad smile. “Sorry about that, Zack,” he said. “It wasn’t up to me.”
That suddenly drove it home. I had known this man for over six years, and that entire time he had been lying to me—probably about everything, including his identity.
“Who are you? Is Ray Wierzbowski even your real name?”
“Actually, no,” he said. “My real name is Raymond Habashaw. I borrowed ‘Wierzbowski’ from one of the Colonial Marines in Aliens.”
“I mentioned that once, and you told me it was a fucking coincidence!”
He shrugged and looked sheepish. It made me want to strangle him.
“I was given a new identity when the EDA stationed me in Beaverton in the first place—to keep an eye on you.”
“To keep an eye on me? Why?”
“Why do you think?” he said. “You possess a very rare and valuable talent, Zack. The EDA has been tracking and profiling you ever since you first played a videogame online. That’s why I was assigned to watch over you, and to help facilitate your training.” He grinned. “You know, sort of like Obi-Wan, watching over Luke while he was growing up on Tatooine.”
“You’re a bold-faced liar like Obi-Wan, too!” I shot back. “That’s for sure.”
Ray’s smile vanished, and his eyes narrowed.
“And you’re being a whiny little bitch, just like Luke!”
The other two EDA agents snickered—they were apparently listening after all. I shot them a glare, and they conspicuously returned their attention to their smartphones. I glanced down at the devices they were holding, wondering how they were even getting a signal up here. Each phone was slighter larger and thicker than a normal mobile phone, and hinged so that it opened like a portable gaming console. One of the agents appeared to be playing a game of some kind on his, but I couldn’t see his display well enough to tell what it was. I looked back up at Ray.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that. I just thought you’d be a little more appreciative, that’s all. Do you think I enjoyed living in Beaverton all this time?”