This work is a parody not created for profit, and as such enjoys specific
protections under the laws of the United States and International treaties.
Use of this material for profit would require the permission of not only the
author, but also the holders of the copyright to the fictional characters,
and the recognizable public figures used.

                            Cultural Differences

The town of Crawford drowses in the Texas heat. The frequency of President
Bush’s working "vacations" has rendered his presence a routine matter. The
talk of the town is the strange purple lightning show that lit a lowering
overcast the previous evening. An idle question by a reporter draws a cool
response from the locals. George is a strait player and there is no hidden
thing at the ranch. George has guests at the ranch this time; foreign
guests.

The people of Crawford have no idea how foreign. There are eleven guests in
all, starting with three Asian looking men in business suits, they might
well be Japanese. There are a man, three women, and a young girl in
elaborate kimono-like brocaded silk robes. Another young girl is decked out
like a ‘50’s Hollywood cowgirl, complete with suspiciously real looking
six-shooters. Finally there are two women in elaborate tailored costumes,
one of them a blue and gray toy soldier sort of stage uniform, the other in
red tights with a white skirt so slit it is almost a loin cloth, and a
parti-colored puff-shouldered jacket showing a distressing amount of
cleavage.

Other than the three men in suits, it is difficult to guess the ethnicity of
the guests. First of all, they all have elaborately colored and styled hair.
One stately robed woman has a black hip length pony-tail, and conventionally
Asian features. The woman in the toy soldier costume is a curly blond with a
complexion darker than Condie Rice’s. The others have hair colors a fantasy
of purples, blues and bright reds not normally seen in nature’s palate, and
features not fitting any particular stereotypical type.

George has seen the intelligence reports, these people, with two possible
exceptions, are perfectly human. Some of the hair and eye coloration is like
none on Earth, but with one exception, apparently natural. He reflects in
passing on the embarrassed CIA briefer trying to explain how samples were
obtained, forlornly hoping his own excrements aren’t subject to
interception. He just wants to make sure no one has risked injuring the
guests. The dark blond’s DNA deviates significantly from the human norm, and
no usable samples have been obtained for the lady in the red-tights outfit,
with her cat-like golden eyes and spiky electric cyan hair. That woman,
Ryouko by name, has been observed by reliable intelligence operatives to
levitate and walk through walls. George wouldn’t mind seeing that.

"Uh, her urine is normal" the CIA briefer had offered.

Not a topic to be thinking about at dinner, George reflects. Though it is
not a formal dinner, it is none the less a State dinner. The robed man, with
his darkly purple curled hair and beard, is Emperor Azusa of Jurai, within
who’s sphere of influence Earth’s solar system falls. It’s kind of humbling
to think about, and a little troublesome. After all, shouldn’t this kind of
people have democracies?

The dinner is a freely adapted Japanese type. George is relieved to observe
all his guests take up chopsticks with ready familiarity, since as far as he
knows only the three suited men are actually Japanese. He notes that Azusa
is picking at a few items but isn’t eating.

"Your Majesty, is there a problem with the food?"

"Your pardon, Mr. President, I’m not accustomed to this Earth cuisine like
the others are"

"Father", the eldest of the three Japanese men breaks in "this is the
Japanese style of cuisine. They have done their best. Let’s see, perhaps
you’d find Texas barbecue more to your taste.

Can you get him some barbecue?"

"Sure" George nods an affirmative, slightly relieved that he will be free to
follow his guest’s example.

I wonder if it can be true, George speculates: Is this man really the
Emperor’s son? He looks older. His burgundy eye color is a close match, but
he’s got graying black hair. Hmm, the three Japanese men are son, father and
grandfather. That would make the youngest one the Emperor’s great-grandson?
Even though he looks boyish, and is a head shorter than any of the other
men, we know this Tenchi is in his early twenties. Everything about Tenchi’s
life before the early ‘90’s indicates that he is a perfectly normal
Japanese.

The Barbecue arrives, and after a futile lesson by his son, Azusa sets aside
the proffered fork, pulling back his sleeve to use his fingers. This is
good, thinks George, I’m eating finger lickin’ barbecue with the Emperor of
the Galaxy.

"So, your Majesty, what brings you to my humble ranch?"

"I will let the Lady Funaho explain our interests"

Lady Funaho, first wife of Emperor Azusa, Chair of the Holy Council of
Jurai, head of Juraian intelligence; so the briefing information goes.

"Madam Funaho?"

"Call me Lady Funaho, please. As you may be aware, the fundamental
technology of the Jurai is Biotechnology. Thus it is with great concern that
we have observed the threat of biological weapons, especially as they are
wielded by irregular and anti-social elements. We see the urgent need for
liaison with your government. You need to select someone from your CDC to
liaison with the Lady Washu. Doctor Nelson will do, since he already knows
about us."

"That’s Little Washu!" the adolescent cowgirl shouts from the far end of the
table"

"Little Washu" Funaho corrects herself, and continues "The Holy Council also
requires liaison. We would like you to select a representative from the NGO
known as Earth First."

George pales, and looks at Dick, who leans over and whispers to him.

"They’re tree huggers, George"

An almost anime like sweat drop forms on George’s forehead. His thought is,
how the heck are we going to vet an Eco-terrorist to the most important
diplomatic post in Earth’s history?

Dick whispers again, "Come on, don’t worry. They’re not really terrorists,
that’s just political rhetoric." Then he speaks aloud to Lady Funaho, "Some
of them have advanced training in the Biological sciences. I presume that’s
what you’re looking for?"

Lady Funaho nods.

"That means we’ll have to submit someone for memory block?"

"Oh, an off planet liaison won’t count against the total"…of no more than
one hundred Earthlings permitted to know of Jurai at any one time. "We can’t
intervene directly, even if you Earthlings destroy yourselves. Our ethical
system and the consequences for your culture simply won’t permit it; but I
doubt if Little Washu would feel such constraints"

"I may be a scientist, but these Earthlings are human beings!" Little Washu
glowers down the table.

Oh great, thinks George, the fate of the world rests on a twelve year old
punk rocker with a spiked hair do.

"Hey, I’m twenty thousand years old, but I still look young and fresh;
don’cha think", she mugs for the President.

My god, can she read minds?

"Bingo!" she quips, and George wonders again if that was a reply.

A briefer walks in and waits patiently till the President slides back two
feet, and whispers in his ear. "Sir, they’re using some sort of translator
technology we don’t understand. When we play back recordings they’re
speaking in another language. Our Japanese expert thinks it may be an
ancient court dialect of Japanese, but he can’t be sure."

George turns to Azusa.

"So we’re not hearing your actual words?"

"Oh, the neural translators are perfect. They pick up every intended nuance,
makes it very difficult to lie or be mistaken."

"But if you do lie, it’s so much more believable" Washu interjects.

It is Azusa’s turn to glower at Washu.

"Crucial diplomatic documents produced by this mission will be rendered in
your English and modern Japanese, and will be honored as rendered in those
languages."

When they have finished the dinner, George and the three rulers of Jurai
take a walking tour, including the stables. Out there they encounter the
rest of the President’s family, George H, Barbara, Laura, and the twins. The
Lady Misaki embraces the twins, and George winces, remembering the vise of
her embrace.

"Oh, how adorable. Look dear, twins!"

The President turns to his father; "I thought you told me Japanese didn’t go
in for hugging, just bowing and apologizing?"

"Well, they aren’t really Japanese, are they? Except for the Lady Funaho."
George H cocks his head and carefully enunciates "Funaho-san wa nihon-jin,
desu ka?"

The President can actually feel whatever the translator mechanism is,
kicking momentarily off in response to his father’s intent to be heard in
Japanese.

"Hai" Lady Funaho responds, the lapsing back to the translator, smiling.
"Sorry, my modern Japanese is a little weak. I was born a Princess of the
Fujiwara clan, in the fifth year of the Emperor Ichijo, in Heian of Yamato,
and I was sixteen when my dear husband abducted me."

Abducted.

The President files that imponderable away, but needs no help in recalling
sufficient history to be taken aback by implications of the rest of Lady
Funaho’s statement.

"But that would make you something like a thousand years old!"

Lady Funaho modestly lowers her eyes, "Yes, I am still barely more than a
child by Juraian standards"

Lady Misaki has finally released the twins from her hold, and they open the
stable doors. Azusa wrinkles his nose at the smell, but at his first glimpse
of the contents he gasps.

"Such magnificent beasts, what are they called?"

"Horse"

"Uma", Lady Funaho nods. "Remember dear, I told you about how I rode one in
old Yamato before you abducted me?"

"You ride these beasts? Is it dangerous"

"It requires a certain skill", Lady Funaho smiles.

As they walk around the stable, Funaho sidles over to one of the twins and
has an animated whispered conversation, as they saddle up three horses. She
nods towards her husband then one of the twins leads her to a room.
Seemingly moments later she reappears dressed like the twins in jeans,
borrowed boots and cowboy shirt, her ample bosom moving freely under the
fabric.

"Sister" Lady Misaki admonishes her, "you shouldn’t have removed your
armored wrap"

"You take security too seriously" Lady Funaho replies, "after all, this
isn’t the court. And our host’s security men are quite capable of protecting
us against any assaults by native elements."

As she mounts one of the animals, her massive ponytail swinging high in the
air, she turns to Azusa and shouts, "It’ll be OK. I haven’t forgotten how."

She guides the horse around inside the corral, getting used to the animal.
Meanwhile a fourth horse is saddled up.

"May I ride with you to see some of this land you call Texas?" she calls out
to the twins. Then she turns to her husband. "When I turned thirteen and was
deemed of age, my father forbade me to ride anymore. I’m sure the
Stable-master would have been punished most severely if I’d been caught in a
page’s clothes, carrying court messages. I had almost forgotten how powerful
it feels to be astride a horse."

As the twins, Funaho, and George H. ride off, Azusa turns to the President.

"You know twins are a great rarity among my people. Would you consider an
arrangement? I have this Count, Seiryo, who would be delighted with twin
wives, even barbarian princesses."

George pauses and counts to ten, holding his best poker face; this man is,
after all, the most powerful man in the Galaxy.

"I’m no king, your majesty, I am the elected leader of a republic. In no
more than seven years I’ll be replaced. My daughters and I will be ordinary
citizens."

"Once a Sovereign, always a Sovereign. It put a mark on the your soul, and
the soul of your descendants for generations. Oh, don’t look so skeptical,
it’s true. My own grandfather was a pirate captain, and I commanded a
privateer planet raider in my youth. That’s how I stumbled on your planet.

Look, your own father was Sovereign before you. Your daughters are
princesses."

"I like to think so", George laughs nervously. "I should think you’d be more
anxious to find a match for Tenchi?"

"That get?" Azusa snorts, "I haven’t acknowledged the boy, and I have no
intention of doing so. Let him marry the monster Ryouko…though he shows
scant interest in women, thank the gods. My daughter is infatuated with
him."

Daughter, thinks George, that would make her: ahem, best not to think about
that, after all things are bound to be different for people who live
thousands of years.

"You mean the Lady Aeka?"

Azusa nods.

"Is she Lady Funaho’s?"

"Oh, no, she’s Misaki’s, a full sister to the Princess Sasami." He leans
closer and whispers conspiratorially, "She dyes her hair"

Coming back to the house, they find Mihoshi and the Princess Sasami absorbed
in a video game, Little Washu and the older Masaki men nowhere to be seen,
and Tenchi is sitting on a couch between Ryouko and the Lady Aeka. George
hasn’t forgotten his college days, and recognizes the situation with Tenchi
at once. He decides to rescue the boy; correct that thought, Tenchi is in
his early twenties. Excusing himself from the Emperor’s entourage, he offers
his hand, and Tenchi stands up with noticeable relief. The two women stand
up with him.

"Ryouko, Aeka. This man is a friend."

George can feel the tension drain from Ryouko. As the two women settle back
down, he swears he can smell a whiff of ozone from her. Their eyes follow
him as he leads Tenchi to a quiet corner, but they have learned to accept
their master’s inattention, and they wait patiently.

"Tell me about yourself"

"There’s not a lot to tell. I’m just an Okayama country boy, training to
care for Grandpa’s shrine. All this Jurai stuff is way beyond me."

The practiced eye of the President cannot be fooled. No wonder those girls
are infatuated. This little guy has more power hidden behind that boyish
countenance than everyone else in the room combined.

"So tell me how you met all these young ladies"

An hour later the President lets out a sigh.

"That’s quite a story"

Now he looks over at the girls with a new respect. No wonder Ryouko walks on
a hair trigger, one George would not be inclined to set off, given what he
has just heard. He feels a little guilty, not really meaning to pump the boy
for information, but this is the first full account they’ve gotten from any
perspective, and he’s sure it’s all recorded. He excuses himself.

"I really need to go do other Presidential things for a while, so if you’ll
excuse me"

He abandons Tenchi to the two waiting women.

In another room he meets Dick, Condie, and Masao, the Japanese liaison. They
are full of excitement

"Well, what do you think?"

"We’ve gotten more insight today than in nearly ten years of covert
surveillance" Masao offers. "It explains a lot. This is the first real proof
we’ve had of a split in the Jurai Royal family. Just knowing that Princess
Aeka was responsible for the shelling of Okayami-shi in ’92 tells us a lot.
It cost us over a billion dollars to cover up that incident, and it couldn’t
have been much easier for the Jurai.

It’s fascinating that Katsuhito’s mother is from Earth, Japanese Royalty no
less. Besides removing all doubt about the humanity of Juraians, it suggests
that whatever power the Masaki Shrine people are concealing, they have
direct loyalties to Earth."

"Masao, does this portend trouble with any royalists or reactionaries in
your Intelligence Service?" Condie interrupts.

"Hardly. The Fujiwara era is a blot on the Imperial bloodline; and the idea
that the truth behind our national myths is alien abductions? I can hardly
emphasize enough how essential it is that none of this is ever publicly
disclosed. It could destroy our national polity.

Still, it would be fascinating to hear the stories Lady Funaho could tell.

What I can’t really figure is how the two Jurai Princesses figure in this.
They are pure blooded Juraians."

"Didn’t you follow what Tenchi said about the Princess Aeka? She followed
her brother Katsuhito. There’s still something that doesn’t add up about
Princess Sasami though, she’s a key player, but he still left her role out."

Condie Rice nods, "Right, George, provided we can figure out what that
means. We’re getting more detail on the DNA, and we finally got a sample
from the one called Ryouko, off her chop sticks: Her DNA is human, by the
way, which makes no sense at all. No human flesh can endure what we’ve seen
her do, mystical powers or no mystical powers.

Every one of these people has a complete human genome, as far as we can
tell. But everyone except Nobuyuki Masaki shows a great deal of artificial
gene manipulation. Matter of fact, we’re going to have problems with some of
the naïve DNA experts we called in. There’s a lot of recombinant technology
at work here. These people all have extensive plant genes inserted in null
stretches of their code, but carefully never interfering with their human
genes. Doctor Latimore thinks that might be the key to their longevity,
their so called Water of Life is likely a gene-therapy cocktail."

"Oh" Masao breaks in, "You mean Lady Funaho too?"

Condie nods again.

"That would mean that they can do their genetic manipulations on mature
subjects!"

"That rule Tenchi mentioned about royal wives being first one from another
planet, then one from among the Jurai? Latimore says that suggest they have
a serious problem with low population, and low fertility. We think what we
see here is the entire Royal Family; three children in a thousand years.
This would all help explain their overriding the incest taboo. Gene
manipulation would explain how they can get away from the consequences."

Masao is sweating. "Uh, the blot of the Fujiwara was incest.

The next big question is their beliefs? We know that Katsuhito is a Shinto
priest, and Tenchi’s account mentioned the Princesses practicing something
like Shinto. Of course, that may just be Lady Funaho’s influence. The
Fujiwara trained their Princesses in all the arts and politics of power, and
it would be a mistake to think that she had no influence just because she
was a primitive and a subject of genuine alien abduction.

Mr. President, I would like to try this. Let’s see what happens if we close
this summit with a little ecumenical prayer service. It might draw them out
more, and get us some insight into their beliefs."

"Sure, Masao. That sounds like a great idea. You know I’m a great believer
in the power of prayer to bring people together."

Just at this point Lady Funaho and the twins return, remaining dressed in
their riding clothes. After an exchange of meaningful glances, Funaho has a
brief whispered argument with Azusa, ending aloud:

"No, I’m keeping them on. They’re much more comfortable than all those
ceremonial robes, and I don’t care if the Earthlings analyze my robes. Trust
me, there’s nothing they can possibly learn from them that is beyond their
present technology.

Now, let’s get back to business." She turns to the President.

At his nod of assent hors d’oeuvres are brought and everyone gathers around
the table again.

"There’s one more item we need to cover, Mr. President. The six thousand
seven hundred and first session Jurai Grand Jury have subpoenaed the CEOs of
Weyerhouser and Georgia Pacific for testimony on your forestry practices. Of
course a subpoena against a protected status Imperial Colony has no real
force, but it would be very helpful. We would take full responsibility for
transport, accommodation, and memory block."

Colony; there it is, with no ambiguity.

"Just what does this Jurai Grand Jury do?" George inquires nervously, not
wishing to jump to conclusions. He recalls a line from an early computer
nerd game "aliens who understand us all too well"

"Oh, it’s not a judicial proceeding like your Federal Grand Juries. It’s
more like your State Grand Juries, an investigative body that makes
recommendations to the Holy Council for the next budgetary year. Silver-leaf
just wants an understanding of your forestry practices."

"Silver-leaf?"

"She’s the fore-person of the Jury, a fine upstanding Royal Tree of the
third generation. I know of no one who has shown more investigative or
fiscal integrity in our entire Empire."

George is choking on his hors d’oeuvre, and a secret service man appears
seemingly out of nowhere to pat him on the back.

"You’re joking?" Dick questions, hoping to cover his President’s
discomfiture.

"Certainly not, Mr. Cheney. As the head of Jurai Intelligence I am well
aware of the nature of your forestry practices. I’m afraid this will be a
difficult lesson for Miss Silver-leaf. You have a long ways to go before you
can be accepted in Galactic society, but I assure you no harm will befall
your CEOs"

George grabs another hors d’oeuvre and swallows it whole, ending his
physical distress.

"You allow, um, non-humans equal standing in your administration?"

"Mr. President, surely by now your analysts have told you that us Royals
share what they no doubt call plant genes? The Royal Trees are, so to speak,
blood relatives to the Crown." That is as close as she will come to
discussing the Secret of Jurai with the de facto leader of the Earth.

There is a long pause as facts and hors d’oeuvres are digested.

The Vice-President breaks the silence. "Speaking of your gene-splicing
practices, you do realize that the Earth First representative will be
predisposed against such practices?"
The President nods, "That we and they come to the same conclusion on genetic
tampering by different logic helps assure me of the righness of our
opposition."

"Just as I had to adjust my personal beliefs to accommodate the new
realities of life among the Jurai, everyone has to learn to live with
cultural differences."

"Among us of Earth, that sounds like a singularly American sentiment. On
reflection, I see no reason we shouldn’t accept your request for Grand Jury
testimony, as long as the people in question are returned unharmed.

Now, if there aren’t any more items we need to discuss at this level, I
propose we close this meeting of worlds by joining in prayer. I have invited
a Rabbi and a Mullah to join us, who are among the Jurai aware, I can
represent Christianity in it’s Protestant form. Shall we have Mr. Katsuhito
Masaki offer prayers on behalf of the East and Jurai?"

Azusa responds, "My son can offer prayer on behalf of Buddhists and
Shintoists, but Princess Sasami is High Priestess of the Path of the Gods."

"Path of the Gods"? George thinks, that’s a literal translation of the
Japanese word "Shinto". For the first time he really pays attention to the
younger Princess. She is a slender, graceful young woman of about nineteen
years, with bright sky blue hair, albino-pink eyes, and a ghost of childhood
freckles on her broad, vaguely Eurasian face. Over all, she is quite pretty.
Perhaps five foot six in her now bare feet, she sheds her brocade robes,
showing a blue gown with a small jeweled metal breast and back plate
suspended on chains, she actually looks the part of some exotic Priestess.

"Can we pray outside where there are trees and open sky?" she asks.

"Certainly" the President assents.

Everyone moves outside, and the closing prayers begin. First the President
offers his closing blessing on the proceedings, followed by the Rabbi and
the Mullah. Then Katsuhito offers Buddhist and Shinto blessings. Now it is
Sasami’s turn, and she begins by facing an old Oak.

"Heaven to Ocean, Ocean to Earth, Earth back to Heaven in full circle, by
the powers vested in me as shrine maiden to the Royal Trees our ancestors,
open to me the paths of light."

A window of blazing light appears in the side of the Oak, and through that
window everyone can see a small leafy tree.

Azusa whispers to George, "Sasami is the only living Juraian that’s fully
human and fully tree, that is her tree form, Tsunami. Not a situation I
approve, but I guess there’s no helping it."

"Better that than the life of shrine celibacy you had plotted out for her",
hisses Funaho from Azusa’s other side.

"I only hope she’s not tacky enough to pray to herself" Azusa rejoins, still
whispering.

Sasami looks at the two leaders and smiles.

"I pray to Kami-sama, or in your English "Honored God-essence person", whom
I cannot distinguish from your concepts of Adonai, Allah, or The Lord.
Kami-sama has permitted Our Lady of the Trees" Here Sasami inclines her head
in a slight bow, "to take the Earth into her care. Each of you should be
mindful that Kami-sama, and the principalities and powers of the heavens are
mindful of this meeting, and honor the arrangements spoken. You who are
surnamed "Bush" should keep in mind the meaning of your name as you proceed
from here. So let it be."

                                    Owari

Text Copyright 2001, Gregory W. Matteson. <matteson@jps.net>

The eleven Characters identified as visitors are Copyright and/or Trademark
AIC and Pioneer LDCA