"What is that noise?!" Slowing finding his way out of a deep sleep, Robert was greatly irritated by the annoying whirrrrr of what sounded like a small motor or something. When the sound subsided, he would drift back into the peace of a profound sleep, but then that damned sound would start whirring away again - bringing him to that level of consciousness where one doesn't really know if one is asleep or not. He wasn't really completely aware of his surroundings, or even if his eyes were open or not. Maybe the whir of the motor was part of a dream he was just leaving - or maybe the beginning of a fresh, new, and annoying dream. More like a new nightmare, thought Robert as the rhythmic cursed noise started once again. He doubted he was completely asleep - his thinking was too clear, too lucid and logical to actually be dreaming. The whir escalated from a mere annoyance to a downright distraction. Again, his curiosity shouted, "What is that confounded noise?!".

As quickly as the whir had started, it abruptly stopped again. The welcomed fuzziness and ambiguity of the dream state eased it's way back into Robert's being and he felt that relaxed floating feeling you can only feel when sliding into the deepest of sleeps. He welcomed the silliness of the dream-images flashing across the cinema screen of his totally surrendered mind, no inhibitions or logic present to sap away the enjoyment. Floating and entertained by the cinema in his head, he almost didn't hear the voices. They weren't constant, nor were they loud. These voices are not inside of my dream, they seem to be coming from the exterior - outside my dream. Robert wondered if maybe it was someone else's dream. Could it be possible that the dream-world was like a giant room where everyone who was dreaming at that moment from all over the universe would visit? Maybe sometimes in this non-physical world dreams would collide violently, causing nightmares, or blend harmoniously and cause this wonderful sensation of floating silliness. Maybe it was true. If it were true, wondered Robert, who's dream was he sharing? Was it a lawyer, a doctor, an astronaut like himself? What if the person was not like him at all? Someone from a different world, physical or metaphysical, someone who it would be impossible to meet any other way may be the dream-blender on the other side. Perhaps it was a penny-less, homeless person whose only relief and enjoyment in life came in dreams.

Robert's thoughts were interrupted by the far-away voices once again, and he listened intently to decipher just what they were saying. He could hear words clearly, but he could understand none of them. They were speaking in a language he did not recognize. He had no clue as to what was being said, which struck him as odd. The melody of the syntax was very strange, in a sing-song kind of way. The tone of the voices sounded masculine, but it was hard to tell. In the Academy and even as a boy, he h Even his precious, patient wife would tease him, and warn him about his curious nature. It just didn't seem like an Ambassador should be like he was.

Suddenly, and without warning, a flash of white went by. Some kind of light - but brighter than any light Robert had ever seen. It left him with a strange feeling, not quite fear, but very disturbing. The floating sensation seemed to be increasing, if that was possible. The voices got louder and then faded, like the horn or siren of a vehicle when it goes by really fast. Then the shrill, high pitch of the whir returned. This time it was really loud. The louder the whirring, the higher he seemed to float in this dream room, the lighter he felt. Again, the light flashed by - not once, but three times! The whir was close now. "What is that sound?!", his curious mind demanded an answer. No answer came, only two more flashes of white light. Robert instinctively looked around the dream room. Strange, there was no light, yet it was not dark at all. He could see nothing, yet could sense everything. The voices came back, their tone excited as they jabbered back and forth among themselves. Robert tried to make sense of their jabbering, but to no avail. The excited jabbering somehow reminded him of his own children. How long had it been since he had seen them? His travels as Ambassador, although fulfilling his personal needs, had this one great downside. He would go long periods of time without seeing his little ones. Little ones! His oldest was how old now? He would be going into the Academy himself soon. Seemed like just the other day the kid was crawling around, and now he is about to go to the Academy. All four of them, including the twins, would be so big and grown-up like when he returned.

Suddenly, Robert grew slightly confused. Returned. Returned from where? In this profound sleep, for the life of him, he couldn't remember where he was! Imagine that. He had navigated and piloted since he was a young lad, and now he can't remember where he is. Must be this dream state, he thought, taking assurance that when he awoke - all would be normal. He tried to remember yesterday. Where the hell was yesterday?! His mind would only bring up a blank when he tried to remember. How long ago was yesterday? How long had he been asleep? Still drawing blanks, Robert began to worry. Again, he looked around his dream room. White flashes hurried past his line of vision. The voices louder, he became determined to remember. Anything. Yesterday. The day before. The floating sensation would not go away and Robert began to despise this dream-world. This place, if it even was a place, was beginning to feel more like a prison than a pleasant nap and dream. The whir had started again. If he could just get to the whir - maybe it was outside of this dream-world and he could use it as a focus to follow to being awake, to escaping this horrible sleep. "I must wake up. What is that noise? I must know."

Robert concentrated on the whir. As he floated he turned toward the noise and felt as if he had turned completely around. He laid there, horizontally and face down. He had not even realized that he had been lying, as it were, horizontally and face up. From this new angle, it was a little easier to see. There seemed to be lights just below him. Everything looked as though it were enveloped in a dark mist. The voices were coming from the lighter area of the mist. Robert thought that if he could stretch out his hand - he could actually touch the source of the voices. Figures were moving in the dark. Every few seconds he would see the flash of white - lighting everything up so bright that he could almost make out the silouhettes which seemed to be the fount of the voices. The light was too bright, however, and so very short-lived that darkness would flood in before his eyes could adjust, leaving him in the desperate mist, unable to focus well on the figures below.

Whirrrrrrrrr! That strange shrill again. It was also coming from the lighte planets in many solar systems before. When they came to realize what he and Zilbota had to offer, they would come around. The primitive, aggressive planet called Earth had depleted almost all of its natural resources, had divided the tiny planet into warring factions they called countries and nations, and even those nations were divided among skin color and languages. The earthlings had not yet learned to tap into the energies innate in their solar system, and had thus made the mistake of using their own planet's natural resources for energy. As a result, they were millennia away from true space travel. Perhaps that was best for the rest of the galaxies and solar systems. If intelligence reports were correct about the condition of Earth and earthlings, they definitely were not ready to explore space and beyond. But Robert had negotiated and cajoled the Assembly into letting him go there. As always, with charisma and his famous passion, and grand speeches about the intrinsic goodness in all beings, and the incredible display of compassion for primitive cultures, Robert had convinced them. And now, here he was, falling into planet earth.

White flashed and more memories flooded into his mind.

The atmosphere was just as predicted and reported. Breathable, but toxic. The misuse of the natural resources had poisoned the air so bad that it had been about six thousand years since anyone had lived more than a hundred or so earth years. The atmosphere itself was slowly killing away an entire planet and culture. Ironically, the ship had landed in one of the few rain forests left on the planet. He remembered being astonished at how bad the air was - even in that dense forest. He also remembered how his heart filled with purpose and compassion, for as bad as the environment on this planet was, his polycorder had the simple answer. He would present and demonstrate its simplicity and power. An idea that was right under their noses had escaped the earthlings for so long. According to predictions, using this new energy source would clean the environment in just twenty earth years. As a result, ninety-percent of what inhabitants of earth called "incurable" diseases would naturally disappear. The rain forests would renew themselves, the ozone layer problems would be remedied. Food, vegetable and animal, would be more than abundant. This little planet had real potential. Robert's feet were standing on planet earth and it was not too late. They still had not destroyed themselves. All estimates by the scientists on Zilbota, Earth had maybe one earth century until it would be uninhabitable by any living creature earthling or otherwise.

The white continued to flash and the dream-room was definitely getting clearer. He could just about make out four figures standing around the table with white coats on. Someone else appeared to be lying on the table.

Another white flash brought a bitter, unpleasant memory that caused Robert to flinch. He had not been on earth for an hour when he heard the helicopters circling overhead. Within minutes, he could distinguish the distinct sound of boots crushing the tropical vegetation, coming his way. He would greet these earthlings with his hands raised high in the air, as that was a definite sign of surrender in this culture. Robert had done his homework. That's when he felt the sting in the middle of his thorax. As he fell to the ground, the hope and passion for earth also seemed to fade. His four legs had just given out under him.

The horror of what had happened began to dawn on him. He had been somehow tranquilized and taken captive. Human beings were worse than he had imagined. What would become of the information on his polycorder that could save the Earth and its inhabitants? What if these violent creatures unlocked the secret of his spacecraft and began to embark on space travel? Would they try to communicate with him? Surely he could find a way to communicate peacefully and effectively with human beings. < before him. The sound began to fade into the darkness and ignorance of the dream-room. The white light became bigger and brighter, enveloping, caressing his being. Robert welcomed the brightness of death into his soul and floated away to his well-earned reward.

####

"Looks like we've lost it." said Dr. Robertson casually, as he stared emotionless into the faces of his fellow scientists. They slowly glanced at the grotesque creature lying lifeless on the operating table. One at a time, they removed their latex gloves with a snap. The younger scientist had never seen anything like this before and just stood there, entranced. Finally, he shook his head as one does when awaking from a quick nap and declared with a decidedly oriental accent, "It is all for the best. Can you imagine what kind of harm and damage a creature like that could do to our planet?"

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