The Question

The Teenagers

“I think it’s way cool,” said Andy Hitchcock, as he lounged in the shade of the last oak tree left in Oak Park Acres.

“You mean the aliens?” asked Bob Wolfe, his inseparable buddy.

“Yeah, sure. Aliens from outer space. Imagine the stuff they must have. Coolisimo, Bobby boy.”

“I guess.”

The two teenagers had been riding their bikes through the quiet winding streets of Oak Park Acres most of the morning. They should have been in school, but the thought of another dreary day of classes while there were aliens up in the sky and the TV was full of people arguing about what The Question ought to be—it was too much to expect a guy to sit still in school while all this was going on.

Andy fished his palm-sized radio from his jeans and clicked it on. Didn’t matter which station, they were all broadcasting nothing but news about The Question. Even the hardest rock stations were filled with talk instead of music. Not even bong-bong was going out on the air this morning.

“…Still no official statement from the White House,” an announcer’s deep voice was saying, “where the President is meeting in the Oval Office with the leaders of Congress and his closest advisors…”

Click. Andy changed the station… Trading has been suspended for the day here at the Stock Exchange as all eyes turn skyward…”

Click. “…European Community voted unanimously to send a note of protest to the United Nations concerning the way in which the General Assembly has failed…”

Click. Andy turned the radio off.

“Those fartbrains still haven’t figured out what The Question will be,” Bob said, with the calm assurance that anyone older than himself shouldn’t really have the awesome power of making decisions, anyway.

“They better decide soon,” Andy said, peering at his wristwatch. “There’s only a few hours left.”

“They’ll come up with something.”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

Both boys were silent for a while, sprawled out on the grass beneath the tree, their bikes resting against its trunk.

“Man, I know what I’d ask those aliens,” Bob said at last.

“Yeah? What?”

“How can I ace the SATs? That’s what I’d ask.”

Andy thought a moment, then nodded. “Good thing you’re not in charge, pal.”