Nothing Further to Report

To the Residents of Bloombasil Homeowner’s Association:

Please join us in extending a warm welcome to our newest residents, B’leep and B’larp Greene. We will be hosting a welcome potluck this Saturday at the community center. A signup list of mains, sides, and desserts will be kept on the community bulletin.

Kind Regards,

The Members of the Bloombasil HOA Board

As a reminder: discrimination against a resident or residents based on their planet of origin is strictly prohibited under the 2030 Fair Housing Act. Any such behavior could put the status of our organization in jeopardy, and as such will not be tolerated.

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On August 1st, at approximately 1900 hours, I responded to a report of a suspicious person at 30 Marjory Drive. When I arrived at the residence in question the exterior of the property appeared vacant. I approached the home. Two notices were taped to the front door: an HOA violation letter and an invitation to a welcome party. I knocked and was given permission to enter.

I confirmed the identity of and interviewed the inhabitant, a 91-year-old female named Hannah Wardell. Wardell confirmed that she was the one who had made the report. She asserted that “a Gray” had walked across her lawn. She further explained:

“They’re everywhere now. Living in our homes. Trespassing on our lawns. Next they’ll be telling us what we can and can’t do. Don’t believe me? Soon enough they’ll be trotting out eviction threats, just like that Janet Stone. You want to see where the suspicious individual is? Go to the party. Everyone is celebrating it.”

I continued my patrol on foot. Upon hearing music and seeing a heavy social presence at the community center, I opted to check in with the residents inside.

The door was open, so I entered the premises. Although there were approximately 40-50 people inside, the room was quiet. All eyes turned to me. I had the feeling there had just been a lively group conversation which ceased upon my arrival. I was immediately approached by 56-year-old Terry Phillips with a plate of gluten free oatmeal cookies. He explained to me that the community was celebrating the move-in of two new residents. He then raised his voice as though addressing both me and the group to say that all was peaceful. Conversation between the partygoers resumed.

I noticed a folding table with name tags laid out in an orderly fashion. Many appeared to have been claimed, but some remained, including that of Wardell. It read:

Hannah Wardell (Homeowner)

30 Marjory Drive (105V / 15Y)

I asked what the numbers meant. Phillips indicated his own name tag, which read:

Terry Phillips (Board Secretary)

22 Marjory Drive (2V / 10Y)

Phillips then explained:

“Just a little conversation starter, and a fun way to educate new residents on the rules. The first number, you see, represents how many violations a person has been subject to during their time with us. The second is how many years they've lived here.

My two violations, for example: My mom lived with us for a bit and didn't know any better. She was used to hanging the wash out to dry – that's just what they did in her day. But it was time for her to move to a home anyway. The other time our puppy, Barnaby, got out and... well, we couldn't stop him from making a mess on the neighbor's lawn. Good dog, the whole thing was a shame. But all dogs go to heaven, right?

You'd think it would make people feel ashamed, but we like to keep this sort of thing out in the open. Relieves tension, makes us laugh. And people with high numbers never show up to these things anyway. And nobody has a zero. Well, nobody except for Janet and her household.”

I explained that I was there to investigate a suspicious person, but there didn’t seem to be sufficient evidence to support the claim. I would have left the scene at that point, but I observed another resident, 16-year-old female Amelia Stone, in apparent distress.

Miss Stone sat in a side chair. Her arms hung limp and she stared dead ahead. Her eyes did not appear to track my movement. Her mascara indicated that she had recently been crying. Phillips began to usher me out.

I attempted to interview the young woman, but she was unresponsive. Her mother, Janet Stone (age unknown), joined us. She explained that Miss Stone was merely in shock after seeing the new residents for the first time. She further explained that her daughter was going through an “anti-cop phase,” and I ought to avoid upsetting her further.

I asked the elder Stone to describe the new residents. She responded:

“Oh! Well. I would never be so vulgar as to describe someone in detail. But they are as you would expect of a pair of Gr-, er, Martians. Thin, large eyes, skin the color of old socks. They are the first of their kind in our neighborhood. But I assure you, we are all eager to help them integrate. We don't usually hold a party like this, you know. This is an occasion. The Board believes that diversity will only enrich our lives. But! The presence of law enforcement can often create tension, don't you think? It’s probably best if you head out. Please, take a little treat on your way.”

It was at that point that the younger Miss Stone stirred. Her eyes met mine and she whispered:

“Blueberry crumble.”

Her mother let out a brief gasp. She then addressed me:

“Our family's specialty. Unfortunately, she forgot to bring it tonight and she’s quite upset about the whole thing. Now please, I think you should go.”

I scanned the dessert buffet and found a multitude of baked goods and ice cream. There seemed to be a recent absence in the lineup, however, indicated by a blank stretch of tablecloth. Upon further inspection I noted scattered crumbs and a purple-blue stain. I noticed that the two Stones and a few others watched me closely.

To maintain a casual appearance, I removed one brownie. I scanned the trashcan next to the table, but it appeared to contain only plasticware and paper plates. With no further evidence of an issue and a standing request to leave, I proceeded to the exit.

As I walked across the lawn, I heard shouting. Miss Stone appeared in the doorway. She was immediately pulled back into the building by several unidentifiable hands. She cried out:

“It was an accident! You have to help them!”

I returned but found the door to be locked. I informed the inhabitants that they were under suspicion of a crime and must open the door immediately. When met without a response I scanned the premises for alternative entrances. I noticed a beam of light around the side of the building and found a second doorway open to the kitchen. Two long Martian-sized shapes lay on the floor, covered in a white tablecloth. It was stained purple in several places. The smell of blueberries was strong.

Phillips opened the doorway to the kitchen opposite me, so fast that several pieces of cutlery fell to the floor. After the sound diminished, he said:

“Please, it was an accident. We didn't know until it was too late. Amelia queried it on her phone.”

I lifted the sheet. Two Martians lay seemingly unconscious or dead.

The elder Stone appeared in the doorway, pulling her daughter behind her.

“Wait! Amy, tell him what you just told me.”

Miss Stone sobbed and shook uncontrollably. She held out her phone to me. The screen read:

“Query: accidentally poisoned two grays what to do now

Answer: Martians (pejoratively known as “Grays”) are extremely allergic to an anthocyanins, responsible for the blue pigment in blueberry skins. However, exposure to this chemical may be remedied given a rapidly administered dose of nitroglycerin, normally used in the emergency treatment of cardiac arrest in humans.”

I asked if they had any such medication on site. Phillips shook his head. Stone said:

“The only person in our community who has a serious heart condition is Mrs. Wardell. And she has 38 outstanding violations! We can’t ask her for help.”

There was a chuckle at the door. Mrs. Wardell stood there, leaning on a walker and still in her nightdress. I began to explain the situation, but she interrupted:

“Oh, I heard everything. You've gone and done it now, haven't you, Janet? Killing two of them... that's not just a violation. That's murder. Maybe even a hate crime.”

Stone sobbed. Wardell went on:

“As much as I dislike their kind and as much as like to imagine you running around the prison block fining everyone for not keeping their cells up to your standards, I am willing to provide what you need. IF – if. You must agree to my terms.”

Stone asked:

“What do you want?”

Wardell replied:

“I want the list of completely unfounded, outstanding violations aimed at my household to be dropped.”

Stone hesitated but Phillips applied a hand to her elbow. Stone spoke:

“Fine, it's done.”

Wardell continued:

“And I want a violation added to your household’s record. Surely poisoning the guests of honor at a community event violates some rule you've got in that made up code of yours.”

Stone issued a series of expletives that indicated a lack of agreement to the terms. However, Phillips replied:

“As board secretary, all record-keeping falls to me… including that of violations. Hannah, it will be done.”

Stone screamed. Wardell produced a small orange prescription bottle from her nightdress.

The effect of the medication was nearly instant. The two individuals of Martian origin quickly returned to consciousness and requested a moment to clean and compose themselves. All other parties removed themselves to the community room. The Martians rejoined us shortly, somewhat disoriented but otherwise healthy. When the situation was more fully explained to them, they addressed me directly:

“Please, you may uncuff the Earthling named Janet Stone. We do not intend to press charges.”

Stone sat slumped in a chair while her daughter now attempted to comfort her. The news appeared to have no effect. I heard her whisper the words “fifteen years” and “no violations,” but the rest of her speech was indecipherable.

The Martians continued to speak to me:

“Thank you for correcting the situation, officer. Although we have had conflict with your government’s executive branch in the past, it appears that the new anti-discriminatory regulation is not a completely empty gesture. We will note this to your leaders. May we record your badge number?”

I assented. As they took down the number, I heard a soft sobbing in the corner. It was Stone. Terry stood over her with a Sharpie, apologizing profusely.

At approximately 2030 hours I left the scene. No arrests were made as there was no lasting harm and no charges were pressed. And aside from a handwritten “1” now appearing on Janet Stone’s name tag, there is nothing further to report.