It's not just a Betty - it's a beacon! - The Chaff from Scott Stephenson

A number of residents have begun to speculate that Martians have infiltrated the March Marsh Marches. The claim is not presented as alarmist. It is offered as a possibility that feels, to its proponents, increasingly textured.

 

The origin of the idea is unclear. Some trace it to a series of footprints. These prints appeared one morning in a section of marsh that had, the previous evening, been thoroughly and democratically trampled. The new impressions were described as deliberate, geometric and faintly editorial. They did not squelch. They impressed. They seemed to have been placed rather than stepped.

 

Others point to the acoustics. The familiar schloop…schlap…schloop has, in certain pockets of the wetlands, developed a subtle variation. Participants report an intermittent skloop…shlirp…sklaff, a sequence that some describe as “not local.” Audio enthusiasts have begun recording these patterns. Playback at reduced speed has revealed what a small but increasingly confident group insists are rhythms that do not correspond to any known boot, hoof or recreational clog.

 

Several marchers have described brief sightings of figures at the reedline. These figures are said to be tall in a way that does not commit to height. Their outlines appear negotiated rather than fixed. At times they seem to ripple, as though composed of a substance that has only recently been introduced to the idea of edges.

 

Descriptions of attire vary. Some witnesses report garments that resemble waders, though the waders in question appear to extend both above and below the expected regions. Others describe a sheen, a sort of polite luminescence, as if the figure has been recently rinsed in starlight and has not yet fully dried.

 

Organizers of the marsh marches have adopted a position of cautious hospitality. They have updated their informational pamphlets. A new section, titled “Interplanetary Etiquette: A Soft Step Forward”, outlines best practices for engaging with potential off-world participants. Recommendations include maintaining a steady pace, avoiding sudden gestures and allowing any unfamiliar entities the opportunity to establish their own preferred rhythm within the existing schloop framework.
“We cannot assume terrestrial exclusivity,” one organizer stated during a lightly attended, heavily observed marsh briefing. “If others have found value in measured movement, we should be prepared to share the route. The marsh is, after all, a generous medium.”

 

Not all residents are convinced. The Counter Marsh March group has issued a response. It expresses concern that the introduction of extraterrestrial elements may further complicate an already complex marching environment.

 

Despite this, curiosity persists. A subgroup of participants has begun what they describe as “contact-adjacent marshing.” These individuals deliberately enter sections of the wetlands where unusual sounds have been reported. They proceed slowly. They listen. They occasionally offer small gestures of acknowledgement, such as a nod or a carefully placed step that attempts to mirror the irregular rhythms believed to be of Martian origin.

 

One delirious and confused marcher described a moment of apparent alignment. “There was a pause,” they said. “The marsh held us. Then there was a return step. Not mine. Not anyone’s that I could see. It fit into the pattern. It completed something.”
The proposed statue of Betty White has not been excluded from these discussions. In fact, it has become central in an unexpected way. Some speculate that a statue, once installed, may serve as a fixed point of reference for both terrestrial and extraterrestrial marchers. A constant. A landmark. A figure around which multiple worlds might quietly co-ordinate their pacing.
There is even a developing theory that the Martians, if present, are less interested in the statue itself than in the process surrounding it. The deliberation. The gathering. The slow, collective negotiation of movement through a responsive environment. It is suggested that this may represent a form of communication that does not rely on language, but on timing, pressure and shared attention.

 

Each morning, as boots approach the boundary between firm and forgiving ground, there is now an additional layer of awareness. Marchers listen not only for the familiar sounds of water and mud, but for anything that might arrive slightly out of sequence.

 

There is a pause. A re-calibration. A widening of attention.

 

Then the steps begin.

 

Schloop. Schlap. Schloop.

 

And, now and then, just beneath and between, something else answers.

 

“Take us to your Betty.”