THE QUESTIONNAIRE
Ivan Kmínek

Early in the morning my boss put on my desk a thin volume in a blue company cover with stars on it.“This thing came by epsilon-channel from the Central Office of the Universe a while ago,”he said.“Get started,Mr. Assistant.You have the whole afternoon for it.”
      So I asked Sonja to make me a big cup of strong coffee and I began to study the documents.
      The title read “Destined for all civilizations.”
      “The Questionnaire we enclosed for you to fill in will serve as a deadline for an on-coming rdeal for those civilizations that do not correspond with present-day great claims upon conscious beings.Please fill in all the points of the Questionnaire.Do not cross out anything.Remember that citation of false r untrue statements is severely punishable.
      Finally please return the completed questionnaire in triplicate to this address:The Central Office of the Universe,worldpoint Alpha 111 00.” I did not like the coffee at all.I sipped several hot draughts,immediately took the first form and insterted it into the typewriter.Then I filled in our data and rewound the paper.
      “PURPOSE OF BEING:”the first item of the Questionnaire sounded out. Hmm.I realised I would probably have to do a bit of hard thinking,t limber up my brain a little.I decided the best thing to do was to make a draft,and I picked up a business pad.
      In about five minutes I had drafted nothing but a striped cylinder with antennae.No doubt due to my hunger,I realized.“Sonja,could you buy me something to eat?”I asked the secretary who was just preparing to g out.“Two sandwiches with sardines and a piece of pie,ok?”
      “Not today,darling,”Sonja whispered.“I have to buy raisins in brandy for the boss.”
      “Raisins in brandy?”I asked,both casually and enviously.
      “Exactly.Excuse me,I’m in a hurry.”She finished her make-up and left. Annoyed,I took up my work.“Mr.Böhm,can I ask you a question?”I said and turned to my experienced colleague.
      “Of course,”said Mr.Böhm wearing a frown.He was working.W rking hard.
      “Mr.Böhm,what is the purpose of our civilization?”
      “Nothing.”
      “I can’t write that here,though”I said.Mr.Böhm only shrugged his shoulders.
      “And what about ther civilizations?”I inquired clutching at straws.“Do they have a purpose?”
      “Certainly,”Mr.Böhm said.“Elsewhere it is quite common,they say.” My colleague’s powers of elaboration seemed to be exhausted for the moment and I lapsed into melancholy.And time dragged on. I looked out f the window at a rainy street,at the scruff of Mr.Böhm’s neck,at an ily wrapper that used to contain yesterday’s lunch,thinking how best to fill in the first item f the Questionnaire.The main thing was not to incense anybody at the Central Office of the Universe,I realized.If they learned that humankind had no purpose,who knows how we might fall out during the on-coming purge.So I decided to leave that slippery column blank and shifted the form several pages lower.
       “NAME AT LEAST THREE GOOD REASONS FOR YOUR EXISTENCE:” Gosh!What a teaser again.I meditated and speculated and began to doubt whether I was,by all means,competent enough to complete the Questionnaire.And my forehead became sweaty.
      “Mr.Böhm,”I whispered,“do you know some good reasons for our existence?”
      “Look,young man,you’ve got your own head,haven’t you?” So I remained completely on my own. At ten o’clock I cleared out and went to the boss.I told him that I didn’t feel confident enough to do the job.
      The boss tried to talk me out f it.He explained to me that I couldn’t betray his trust at such a moment.He said that he was also aware f the disproportion between the grave implications f the Questionnaire and the grim schedule for its completion,but he couldn’t do anything about it. And finally he shook my hand. So I came back to the typewriter,in low spirits,and looked at the next item on the Questionnaire.
      “A PLAN OF A ACTION FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS:” One question is more stupid than another,I fumed.But I knew what t do:I would write “we were and we will be”and they’d think no more f it!
      I unbosomed my idea to Pavel.I told him I would make fun of the Questionnaire and sneer at its absurd cosmic paperwork.
      “For God’s sake!Are you mad?”Pavel fretted.“I’ll tell you something,boy- Proterons from the Third Galaxy Anomaly also thought they would quiz the Central Office of the Universe and they wrote on some circular note a little of their Proterons’vulgarity.A week later their star exploded to supernova!”
      “It could have been just an accident,”I said,unpleasantly surprised. “An accident?T sh!”Pavel exclaimed in all seriousness.“Think about every word,boy!You’re playing a risky game!”..........

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