THE MASTERS OF HYDE PARK
Sf Shorts
THE MASTERS OF HYDE PARK
Landing in the Rain
The sky above Hyde Park had the colour of an unresolved tax dispute. A fine London drizzle fell across the paths, lawns and sensor-controlled lampposts. The lights registered every pedestrian, analysed their movements and automatically concluded that nothing of importance was happening. At 9.47 p.m., a narrow crack opened in the air between two ancient plane trees. A black spacecraft slipped through it. It was barely larger than a delivery van, had no windows and displayed no visible engines. It landed so silently that only a nearby fox paused to look at it. The animal considered reporting the incident to the authorities, decided against the paperwork and disappeared into the darkness. A circular hatch opened. Three figures emerged. They were tall and thin. Delicate veins of light moved beneath their grey skin. Their heads resembled inverted drops of water, while four amber-coloured eyes observed different directions at once. They belonged to the Velkaar.
Commander Qivon raised a device no larger than his palm. It could decode every known language within seconds.
“Atmosphere acceptable,” the device announced in the voice of a bored BBC presenter. “Oxygen levels sufficient. Pollution elevated. Political common sense undetectable.”
“Is that dangerous?” asked Sevrak, the expedition’s chief scientist.
“Only in the long term.”
The third Velkaar, a young social analyst named Druul, studied the illuminated buildings beyond the trees.
“Our mission is clear,” he said. “We must identify the species that rules this planet.”
Qivon activated his dominance scanner.
The device analysed body language, hierarchy, ownership and rituals of submission. On Velkaar, it had once discovered that the president possessed no real authority and that the palace chef controlled the entire government.
“We observe,” Qivon ordered. “We do not interfere.”
A creature appeared on the path. It had four legs, black fur and a long nose. A glowing collar encircled its neck. A human followed behind it. The human held a lead and was being pulled through the park with remarkable determination. Druul pointed at them.
“The four-legged one is leading.”
“Clearly,” said Sevrak.
The First Ritual
The dog stopped beside a tree.
The human stopped as well.
The dog sniffed the trunk, raised one leg and urinated against it.
Qivon’s dominance scanner hummed.
“Territorial marking.”
“A public declaration of ownership,” Druul said.
“Efficient,” Sevrak added. “No forms.”
The human tugged lightly at the lead.
“Come on, Winston. We haven’t got all night.”
Winston ignored him.
“The servant has spoken,” Druul observed.
“The ruler has declined to respond,” said Qivon. “A clear display of absolute authority.”
Winston walked a few steps, turned around twice and deposited a steaming pile on the path.
The three Velkaar watched in silence.
The human removed a small plastic bag from his pocket, placed it over his hand and picked up the dog’s waste. He then carried it to a nearby bin.
Sevrak’s lower eyes widened.
“He collects the ruler’s excrement.”
“Perhaps it is a sacred relic,” Druul suggested.
“Then why place it inside that container?”
Qivon scanned the bin.
“The container holds the excrement of numerous four-legged beings.”
Druul froze.
“A communal archive.”
“Or a ballot box,” Sevrak said.
Qivon looked at her.
“What makes you think that?”
“This planet appears politically unstable. Perhaps the rulers vote through biological deposits.”
Winston barked.
The human immediately reached into his coat and produced a small piece of dried meat.
“Good boy.”
He handed it to the dog.
All three Velkaar stepped back.
“The human is paying him,” Druul whispered.
“For producing the sample,” Sevrak added.
Qivon’s light-veins pulsed.
“The hierarchy is almost confirmed.”
Servants of the Lead
More humans appeared along the path.
An elderly couple approached with a tiny white dog wearing a red waterproof coat. The man had no umbrella, although the rain was becoming heavier.
Behind them walked a young woman accompanied by a large brown dog attached to an electronic lead. Its collar transmitted heart rate, body temperature, mood, step count and possibly its opinion of Parliament.
“What does the device indicate?” Druul asked.
Sevrak intercepted the signal.
“The four-legged one must complete another two thousand steps today. The human is required to accompany him.”
“Forced labour,” Druul concluded.
The little white dog stopped.
The elderly woman stopped with it.
The dog sat down.
The woman opened a bag and removed a water bowl, a bottle and several handmade treats.
“Would you like chicken or salmon, darling?”
The dog turned its head away.
“He rejects the first offering,” Sevrak said.
The woman held out another treat.
“Cheese?”
The dog accepted it.
Druul raised both hands in wonder.
“He demands several meals and chooses between them.”
“A monarch,” said Qivon.
The man beside the woman sighed.
“Did you bring anything for me?”
“You can eat when we get home.”
The Velkaar exchanged glances.
Qivon switched off the dominance scanner.
“The device is no longer necessary.”
Another dog charged towards them. It was small, round and wore a jumper bearing the word BOSS.
“A surprisingly transparent society,” Druul said. “Its leaders are clearly labelled.”
The so-called Boss ran towards a hedge. His human followed, tripped over the lead and fell into a puddle.
The dog stopped and looked back.
“Boss!” shouted the man.
The animal barked twice.
The human immediately got to his feet.
“A direct command,” said Sevrak.
“And instant obedience,” Qivon added.
Covert Questioning
“We require verbal confirmation,” Qivon decided.
The Velkaar activated their camouflage fields.
Their bodies shifted into human forms.
Qivon became a thin man in a dark suit. Sevrak appeared as a tall woman wearing a silver raincoat. Druul transformed into a young man whose face looked convincingly human, though slightly too symmetrical.
They approached the owner of the large brown dog.
“Excuse me,” Qivon began. “We are conducting a social survey.”
The woman studied him.
“Are you from the council?”
“No.”
“Then you might actually be interested in the answer.”
Qivon pointed towards the dog.
“Who makes the most important decisions in your household?”
The woman smiled.
“Monty, obviously.”
Druul nodded with excitement.
“Could you explain?”
“He decides when I wake up, when we go out, which route we take and when I’m allowed to return home. If I work too long, he puts his head on my keyboard.”
Sevrak recorded every word.
“And you obey him?”
“What else can I do? He has that look.”
Monty stared at the Velkaar.
His gaze was calm, dark and entirely free of judgement.
Druul swallowed.
“Does he possess political power?”
The woman laughed.
“More than most politicians. People actually trust him.”
Qivon stepped closer.
“Are these beings elected?”
“No. They choose their humans.”
Sevrak made a quiet clicking sound.
“An unelected elite.”
“And yet popular,” Druul whispered.
Monty began to growl.
The Velkaar camouflage fields flickered.
The woman shortened the lead.
“Monty, be nice.”
The dog barked.
At that moment, Druul’s analysis device slipped from his coat. It landed on the ground, unfolded three small aerials and began flashing.
Monty seized it.
“No!” Druul shouted.
The dog ran.
The woman was pulled after him.
“Monty! Drop it!”
Monty had no intention of doing so.
The Velkaar raced through Hyde Park after him.
The Supreme Command
Monty tore across the wet grass, leapt over a bench and disappeared behind a row of bushes. His human, the three Velkaar and two uninvolved joggers followed.
At last, the dog stopped beside the camouflaged spacecraft.
He dropped the analysis device.
Then he sniffed the invisible hull.
A blue spark travelled across the camouflage field.
The spacecraft became visible.
The woman stopped dead.
“What the hell is that?”
Druul looked at Qivon.
“The camouflage has failed.”
Qivon deactivated his human appearance. Sevrak and Druul followed.
The woman stared at the three aliens.
“Oh,” she said after several seconds. “Of course. Today of all days.”
Monty sat in front of Qivon and raised one paw.
“What does that gesture mean?” Sevrak asked.
The woman sighed.
“He wants a treat.”
Qivon studied the raised paw.
“He demands tribute.”
“You had better give him something,” the woman said. “Otherwise he’ll bark.”
“And if he barks?”
“Other dogs may come.”
The Velkaar froze.
Sevrak opened her supply case and removed a compressed nutritional cube.
“This provides enough nourishment for a Velkaar for seven days.”
“Monty isn’t fussy,” the woman said.
The dog took the cube, chewed twice and swallowed it.
Sevrak’s four eyes widened.
“Impossible.”
Monty raised his paw again.
Qivon handed him a second cube.
“Commander,” Druul protested, “those are our emergency supplies.”
“We are conducting diplomatic negotiations.”
Monty stood, walked to the spacecraft and urinated against the landing gear.
The dominance scanner activated by itself.
NEW OWNER REGISTERED
The message appeared across the screen. Druul went pale.
“He has annexed our vessel.”
The woman took hold of Monty’s lead.
“He does that to anything he likes.”
Qivon looked at Sevrak.
“We are abandoning the mission.”
“But the ship belongs to him now.”
Qivon studied Monty, who sat contentedly beside the landing gear.
“Then we must request permission to depart.”
Report to the Stars
Minutes later, the spacecraft rose above the trees of Hyde Park.
Monty stood on the grass and watched as it vanished into the clouds. His owner still held the alien analysis device.
A final message appeared on its display.
PRELIMINARY EXPLORATION REPORT — PLANET EARTH
Dominant species: Four-legged mammals of various sizes.
Local designation: Dogs.
Subordinate species: Humans.
Human duties: Food procurement, transport, medical care, grooming, entertainment and disposal of royal excrement.
Form of government: Emotionally secured lead monarchy.
Recommendation: All diplomatic contact must be conducted through the dominant species.
Warning: Humans occasionally claim to be in control. This assertion contradicts all available evidence.
The woman read the report twice.
Then she looked at Monty.
“That is complete nonsense.”
Monty sat in front of her.
He raised one paw.
The woman slipped the device into her pocket, opened her bag and handed him a piece of chicken.
“Only one more.”
High above London, the Velkaar spacecraft entered hyperspace.
Monty chewed his treat slowly.
Then he looked up at the sky.
And wagged his tail.
THE END