On an unseasonably sunny and warm February day, a well-dressed pair of septuagenarians, Ben and Doreen Dawson, were about to check into the Hotel Panterene in Berry, Iowa. The clerk noticed the two holding hands as they walked to the registration desk. They had reserved one of the boutique hotel’s theme rooms for Valentine’s Day. For them, they didn’t care which room they were in as long as they were together. After getting their keys and finding the room, each unloaded their metallic suit cases, removing what they needed before a stroll around town.

“Doreen, be sure to get your walking shoes. The sidewalks look a little bumpy.”

“I have them here. I’ll be steady enough to observe as we walk around. Don’t let me forget my smart sunglasses. I’ll need them too.” They headed outside.

Passing people on the street, few acknowledged the old couple. Those that did, tipped their red ball caps. During their walk, the couple closely studied the townspeople.

Ben said, “You getting all this?”

“Of course I am. These smart sunglasses are capturing everything.”

After walking in the business district for an hour, Ben asked, “Are we all done?” Doreen nodded affirmatively. “Then how about a drink before dinner at that pub up ahead?”

“Good idea,” Doreen said. They got to the front door of the Skinny Pig Pub when Doreen noticed a vibrating sound from Ben’s phone.

“You might want to get that. Were you expecting a call?’

“No, but I’ll answer. Might be important.”

Ben stopped to reach into his pocket, removing a phone. Standing in the doorway, blocking people from getting in and out of the pub, he said, “Hello,” Doreen tugged at his arm.

“Here, let’s get out of the way. There’s a bench right over there.” They moved to it and sat down.

Ben listened to his caller. Doreen could only hear one side of the conversation. Then Ben said, “But we have completed the survey. We are about to harvest. Are you sure? This town offers a big yield.” The call continued. Ben resumed listening, then said, “Yeah. Lots of red ball caps. We’ll easily make quota.”

When the caller said something else, Ben responded, “The Donald? The one Doreen talked about? What’s he got to do with this?” A moment passed, then he said, “Okay. We will.”

When Ben hung up, he looked disappointed. Doreen asked, “What is it, Ben?”

Having recorded the conversation he handed her the phone. “It would be best if you just listened.” She hit play and held it to her ear. The first voice she heard was Ben’s or, as she knew him, Attaak.

“Hello.”

“Attaak, this is Remlaart. Stop what you’re doing and get back here immediately.”

“But we have completed the survey. We are about to harvest. Are you sure? This town offers a big yield.”

Remlaart asked, “Are they wearing red ball caps?”

“Yeah. Lots of red ball caps. We’ll easily make quota.”

Remlaart said, “We noticed something disturbing when monitoring signals coming from Earth. Although a solar storm has caused some break up, that character called The Donald, the one Dorenta warned us about, is on every American screen all the time. By the way, who picked Doreen as her cover name? I don’t like it.

Ignoring the complaint about Doreen’s cover name, Attaak used it when he said, “The Donald? The one Doreen talked about? What’s he got to do with this?”

Remlaart said, “He’s the source of a mind virus. Apparently his speeches rewire human brains causing both an erosion of moral values and severe cognitive distortions. The infection, similar to the human form of mad cow disease, causes seemingly normal people to display a lack of good sense and judgment. In other words, it makes them stupid. It’s highly contagious.

“The infected wear red ball caps making them easy to identify. If we harvest the brains of these red hats and put them with the clean ones in storage, we risk contaminating everything and having a total crop failure. That means no money and no one will ever buy our food products again. Get back here now before you’re exposed or we’ll have to leave you behind.”

Ben responded, “Okay. We will.”

Doreen, whose real name was Dorenta, handed the phone back to Ben and said, “What’s his problem? I think Doreen is a nice name.”

Looking peeved, she said, “Great, now we have to start all over again in a new place. Everybody we scanned is probably infected. I don’t need to remind you two I didn’t want to come to Iowa in the first place. I knew something like this might happen because these people voted for that Donald character. Based on my research, I suggested Canada as a better place to harvest clean brains, but you two overruled me. At least now I can get out of this miserable wrinkled human body.”

Attaak nodded. “Okay, so you were right. Canada has better brains, but I wouldn’t dump that human body yet. We’re going to need these outfits up North.”

The next day, they checked out of the hotel. As they walked out the door, they held hands. The desk clerk watching them, smiled and thought to herself, What a cute, down to earth, old Iowa couple.