skonen_blades: (Default)
2023-06-04 04:24 pm
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Here Be Monsters

(a short story from the point of view of a criminal con man)

I’d seen her across the spaceport and targeted her immediately. I knew her type. She stood out from the crowd in her colorful peasant clothes. Possibly a runaway, definitely in a hurry to get off world. Young. Not as dust-ridden and dull as the rest of the people that lived and worked here. It wasn’t immediately obvious to passersby minding their own business but she was like a beacon to me. I’d done this before and I had an instinct for it.

She looked around for pilots or captains in a way that she probably thought was sneaky. It was clumsy and obvious to me. She had no gift for slyness.

Luckily, I myself was a captain and a pilot.

The suns were going down. The blue and red of them melting into the horizon threw purple light up into the clouds. That’s when I approached her.

I bumped into her roughly and caused her to drop her backpack which opened and spilled some of her belongings into the dust. I apologized profusely and helped her pick them up while the foot traffic begrudgingly made its way around us. I asked her what her name was. Mino, she said. I told her mine was Pryet and that I’d love to make it up to her.

At first, she wasn’t agreeable, until I offered to take her back to the foyer airlock of my ship for some tea. At the word ‘ship,’ she perked right up.

I don’t consider myself an artist but sometimes I think I almost deserve that title. I gave one of the best performances I’d given to date. Non-threatening, mannerly, dropping hints about my wealth, complimentary, kind, generous, and soft. I took the long way back to my ship so that we’d have more time to talk. In some ways it was like lockpicking a safe. I could sense her moving her small hand further and further away from the knife she had hidden in her belt. I could see her smile moving from polite to genuine. Her gait loosened just a little.

I hadn’t completely won her trust but it was a start.

I’m a pretty big guy but I know how to shift it. If I’m in a tavern brawl, I know how to make it all seem like brawn by sucking in my gut and standing straight-backed, letting my height help the illusion. But here I let myself seem out of shape. I needed to seem weak. I let it all hang out. I pretended to be clumsy. I seemed foolish and awkward. I fumbled my keys into the dust. A type of clowning. I laughed at her small jokes but not enough to make her suspicious.

The rest of the evening was like a dream. I was inhabiting the role. In my airlock entry, I served her tea and got her whole story. She had domineering parents plotting to marry her off to a land baron she’d never met for a generous dowry and land annexation rights. She worked hard on the farm with the cattle and the crops. She taught herself to read. All she wanted to do was get away from here and see the stars.

I’d had a dozen just like her.

It was me who brought up the idea. Like it had just occurred to me. Why, I had a ship. And I had the space to take her! I was going on a short jaunt two systems over for supplies before a long haul to the core. I told her that I knew I didn’t have beautiful quarters for her but I did have an extra berth and I was ahead enough in my savings that it would be no trouble to take her with me on my supply run and drop her off before the big trip.

Get this. She cried. She cried with gratitude at finding such a generous stranger. It was destiny, she said. It was fate, she said. She just knew she had a good feeling about me, she said.

For just a moment I felt guilty but it passed.

That’s probably when I should have realized what was happening. But I was too lost in self-congratulations on a job well done. Too proud. You know what they say about pride and falls.

We strapped in together in the cockpit. I wanted to give her a view through the front windows during takeoff. To people that had never been offworld before, this was usually what sealed the deal. Clearance was given by launch control and vectors were defined. The green light winked brilliantly on the dash and we were off. I pushed forward on the thrusters and gripped the stick. This could all be automated but I wanted her to see me pilot it. I wanted her to think of me as a valiant space captain. In a way, I thought I was entertaining her and giving her what she wanted. Pumping up the fantasy before I closed the trap.

Her fingers tightened on the armrest as the ship shuddered with acceleration. The violet clouds came closer and then smeared across the glass until parting and revealing the maroon night sky. The stars revealed themselves as the atmosphere thinned until the points of light glittered alone across the black universe.
I had to admit, even I never got tired of that transition.

I put it in autopilot, offered dinner, and prepared to get down to business.

I showed her to the cargo space and mattress where she’d be staying and the meager bathroom next to it. She said it was much bigger than back home and I shook my head. All too easy. We both freshened up before I came back to her to her room and showed her to the galley.

She’d put on a different shirt for dinner. The same style as her other shirt but a darker colour and a little lower in the front. Perhaps this would be easier than I thought. I served up the stew and we sat down.

Occasionally they were grateful enough that my proposition wasn’t met with outright hostility. Not that it mattered either way to me.

It was after dessert when I let the mask fall.

I told her that space was a lonely place driven solely by power. I told her that laws were for planets. That here in space, all that mattered was strength and weakness. The strength of hulls, the power of vacuum. That people bartered what they had and that there was no shame in it. Defense and offense, supply and demand, strategy and execution. It was the eternal law of the universe. Predator and prey, if you wanted to look at it like that. I preferred, I said, to look at it as the economics of force.

And no one rides for free.

I reached across the table and rested my large hand on her small one.

At this point, the penny drops and they realize that they only have one thing to offer me. They also realize they’re alone. This is where the second act begins. Do they scream? Is there a chase? Would there be tears? Demure submission? Perhaps an attempt at bartering? An offered reward, maybe? Or maybe there would be scratching and a true test of athleticism. A purer, physical flexing of the universal law I attempted to educate her about earlier.

I’d yet to have a passenger be happily surprised. I wonder if it’s me that causes this. I wonder if that’ll ever happen. I don’t even know if I’d like it at this point. I’m too used to the other way.
But while I was thinking all this. I realized that she hadn’t said anything yet.
I looked at her face to try to read it.

And I couldn’t.

In fact, I couldn’t do much of anything. Nothing was coming off of her and I suddenly felt very content to just sit and watch her shoulder.

I felt my mind split into two. One of those moments of being in shock where you watch things happen with a detachment that tells you just how bad things have gotten without allowing you to feel true alarm.
I understood that my plan was a bad one. I understood that she was off limits. I understood that this ship was now her ship.

I knew with the sickening clarity of hindsight that I’d fallen into her trap, not the other way around. I’d gobbled down a lure. Like a greedy riverfish, I’d arrowed toward the bait without a second thought.
In space you hear rumours. Myths in the black. A lot like sailors of old. Reality bends when you’re in a small craft at the mercy of enormous, uncaring nature. There can be madness in long transit. Superstitions arise that seem silly on land but become iron-hard rules on a long journey. Travelers come up with things to explain the unexplainable; mermaids, krakens, harpies, gods…

…and sirens.

She spoke to me then. In a different voice. A beautiful voice. I could almost see the notes of it. The crystalline shining elegance of them. I felt the pull of addiction and dove in. Like I was doing a smiling, languid backstroke down the sides a massive whirlpool. Not a care in the universe as my mental being disappeared.

I was allowed to keep a kernel of myself in a small corner of my mind. Otherwise, I became a tool of hers as much as any hammer or wrench on this ship.

I knew that I would never tell another soul about her. I knew that I would never attempt this kind of plan again. I felt the tendrils of her song reprogramming me as we traveled through the dark and I was grateful for it. I knew that if I broke any of her rules, I would happily gouge out my own eyes and cut myself in the smallest, most painful ways for days until I died.

She left me that small pocket of myself so that after she left, I would have a role to adhere to. A personality to keep me from drooling in a corner for the rest of my life. It wouldn’t be truly me so much as a costume I’d never be able to take off. A different mask that she’d let me have. She didn’t do that to be kind. She did it to avoid suspicion. So did it so that I could still speak to tower controls during takeoff and landing.

She did it to avoid leaving a trail of victims that would lead back to her.

Maybe the worst part of it all was that I was content about it all. The horror I should have felt was missing. No panic. Just passive witnessing. Watching myself disappear. Looking at my own disassembly and reformation in an image she preferred. I even helped her here and there when I felt she’d missed a spot.
I wasn’t privy to her long-terms plans. Would she leave me at the next outpost and find a new captain to prey on? Or would she let me resupply and take me up on that long-haul journey I’d told her I was going on? Would I be food for her journey? Would she lay eggs in me? Was I a short-term or long-term investment? But puppets don’t ask questions unless they’re told to.

I wasn’t wrong about about the economics of force and strategy. Clearly. It was all that mattered out here. I suppose in a lot of ways that the old maps had it right. The space between lands is deep, mysterious, unknowable, and dark.

And here be monsters.




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2023-06-04 04:23 pm
Entry tags:

Ark

There are two wolves inside of you
And two llamas
And two zebras
There are two of every animal
You are an ark
It’s been raining for a long time
It’s a small zoo and tempers are running high
It stinks inside you
The smells are rich
But this is survival
This is important
So much will die
If you sink




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2023-06-04 04:06 pm

2022 - 25/30 - Old Enough

The Ship of Theseus
Frankenstein’s Monster’s Body
And my sense of self
Walked into an old bar
That had been bombed flat
In four separate wars
And had changed hands a dozen times
But kept the same name
In a city that didn’t have a single original building
Still existing from the city’s inception
When it was built on the ruins
Of the culture that was there before
On a patch of land itself scoured clean several times
By ice ages, floods, and meteor strikes
On top of fossils that, when alive,
Already had a layer of fossils below their feet
With other levels below that
Each stripe a million years thick
Whose genetic ancestors were separated
By continental drift a few times
Crashing and mixing the soup
After life sparked here
Restarting again and again
And the bartender said
“I’m going to need to see some ID”




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2019-03-25 05:50 pm
Entry tags:

The Pirate Dentist

And there it is: his horrifying pirate’s mouth opening wide. A ridged, wet, pink pit yawns impressively in my dentist’s chair. It’s a foul abyss from which almost all teeth have fled, ringed with a crunchy bush of wiry hair that could sand a deck with its crust. His jaw hinges open like a snake as he tips his head back. His pink vulnerability is a symbol of trust given solely to stop the agony.

It’s such a site of carnage that I feel swallowed, my own interest magnifying the fissures and decay until I feel as if I’m sticking my head into the mouth of a dying, ancient, stinking lion. A nearly-visible cloud of foul gas warmly lounges up in a mushroom cloud of exhalation. Even with the ammonia paste smeared under my nostrils, my nose hairs try to recede. My eyes water. I’m used to it by now but on a scale of ten, this is at least an 8.

I should never have moved to the port to be a dentist. The idea was to retire in the country. To maybe move to a place where there wasn’t much competition and eke out a small, peaceful living in my old age. I looked at a few maps and this small seaside town seemed ideal. My inquiries revealed no dentists at all. I could maybe be moderately middle-class by pulling a few teeth and handing out pamphlets on proper dental care.

But in the last two years, I’ve found out exactly why there are no dentists here. I’m stumbled into a lucrative and dangerous career.

It’s because of pirates.

This town is a stop for pirates. They come from three oceans to whore and piss and spend and carouse and relax. There are problem twenty or thirty pirates in town at any time, swelling seasonally to a few hundred.

It’s tradition, I’m told. A famous pirate once stopped here and went on to a legendary victory against the authorities. As a result, no pirates misses a chance to pull into port here and hope that a little luck rubs off. They’re a superstitious bunch of sailors.

But life at sea is not kind to teeth. Scurvy loosens them, salt water corrodes them, poor hygiene browns them, thick coffee blackens them, rum perforates them, pipes yellow them, and if a pirate encounters sugar, it’s a force with more allure than gold.

Most every pirate I’ve met laughs at his missing limbs or eyes. He scoffs as he recounts the loss of them as if they were nuisances in the first place.

But as he talks, he winces and blinks back the agony of his teeth twisting bright through his jaw. The nerves are alive and singing with pain with every breath of cold air or splash of hot wine. Every steely-eyed jaw clench is an exercise in holding back a scream.

I have a lineup out the door on the busy days. I have four chairs in the waiting room. I have several assistants to help me now. They’re cabin boys I’ve taken in payment and offered to teach. It’s been a rescue in all cases. To call them hygienists would be to belittle the herculean task I’m training them to take on.

The clients pay me as they can. Sure, they offer galleons and doubloons. All manner of coin. But for those that can’t, they offer stolen livestock, liquor, art from far-off lands, strange antiques, exotic pets, and other plunder. I have been offered large sums to embark as an onboard dentist but I am not an oceangoing soul. I have seventeen standing offers of safe passage should I need a quick escape.

Safe passage. Quick escape. Offered with a knowing nod and a wink like I’m some sort of criminal laying low and hiding from the police.

There’s a reason I have tight security and seventeen parrots in cages around the shop. At this point, I’m somewhat of a power broker. I’ve passed messages on from pirate king to pirate king during extractions. My shop is neutral territory. Treaties have been signed in the back rooms between factions. I’ve changed the course of history, I’m sure. But I focus on the task at hand.

I’m quick with the pliers and generous with the anesthetic. Their thankfulness is sometime frightening to a peaceful man like me. To be embraced by a stinking, sinewy mountain with a beard and a hook for a hand is quite scary. But I’m a professional. I don’t flinch.

I make a brisk side business renting chairs to barbers that clip the pirates’ unkempt mops and thicket beards as they wait. I’ve had thoughts about bringing in some bloodletters and surgeons as well.

Lately, the real money has been coming from another avenue I’ve been exploring. I’ve been carving dentures for them. A pirate with a gleaming with smile is an oddity but the sight is becoming more common because of my shop.

I’ve been experimenting with different custom finishes. Metal, pearl, wood, abalone. Some designs like skulls or suits from playing cards. I recently made a jade set of teeth with an inlaid twisting dragon across the front. Also a gleaming set of tempered glass, green like the ocean herself. One set of polished copper that came together like the teeth of gears.

They’re quite popular. I’ve even had a slightly-damaged pair return to me as payment.

They come to me in pain and leave youthful. I have given confidence to monsters. I have given smiles back to sadistic adventures. I have given fangs back to tigers.

I’m making a killing and I’m scared to stop. If I ever pack up shop here, I’ll have to flee and remain disguised for the rest of my life to avoid the pirates hunting me down. If I accepted a post on one of their vessels, the others would hunt that ship down and abduct me. If any of them harmed me or killed me, they’d become a pariah to be destroyed on sight by the others.

I’m probably the safest man on the continent that isn’t royalty. But I can never leave.

I wonder if I’m slowly becoming a pirate myself. I did pierce my ears and one of the parrots has become accustomed to perching on my shoulder. I understand many of the subtle nuances and inflections of the word ‘arrr’.

I stop my musing and get back to work. Into the mouth of madness, as we say.

Four lonely, pitted, pus-yellow Stonehenge teeth gaze pathetically up at me from this stinking funnel of flesh. Liver spots and grey areas dot the inside of this gaping max. They’ll all have to come out.

This man can’t be more than 22. I wonder if he’s ever brushed his teeth in his life.

I break out the anesthetic and while he drinks himself to sleep, I talk to him about the options I have on offer for a brand new smile.




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2019-03-25 12:27 am

Cloaked

I don’t like traveling in a cloaked vessel. It’s like being a ghost and having no control.

I’m an ensign on a Space Force vessel from Earth. A lot of my fellow crew members aren’t human and the tech and spec on this ship is borrowed from a hundred systems. It’s a pretty heady experience for a race that just joined the Corporation of Planets fifteen years ago. I’ve been on the ship for almost a year now.

We’re explored, terraformed, battled, lost crew members, gained crew members, contributed to the Galactic Library with our exploits, and been worthy of note to the powers that be. Several commendations and medals have been bestowed on this crew. We’re not the best but we’re definitely pulling more than our weight.

Right now, we’re on route to Corcarroway 5 with a load of plague cure. Time is of the essence but the quickest ‘straight-line’ course is through a patch of space inhabited by a spacefaring race that hasn’t quite reached the quota of light-drives for an invite to the Planet Corp and its Space Force wing. They don’t know we exist and we don’t want to set off a panic or a timely premature first contact scenario.

So we have to fly dark.

Flying cloaked sounded pretty cool to me until I actually did it.

You see, not only the ship disappears. I disappear. The controls disappear. Everything onboard the ship disappears. All spectrums. I can see the stars warp and stretch around me as we tesseract through the the NearLight dimension but I can’t see my hands. I can’t see my body or the helm controls in front of me. I can’t see any walls. I can’t see the floor or the ceiling. Just the fathomless eternal dimension streaking and folding all around us.

Even if I blink, I can’t see my eyelids. Traveling like this for more than a few days can drive some species (like humans) insane. Sleeping with one’s eyes open doesn’t come naturally to us.

Luckily, it’s just seven more hours and then we can uncloak back in PC space again.

Seven hours of staring into warpspace while the AI does its preprogrammed best to keep us on course because we can’t touch the controls.

My eyes don’t dry out but it feels like they should. I have to feel for my own body to scratch an itch even though it looks like I should be able to see just fine. I can hear the ship and the crew around me but I can’t see them.

I do my best to try to ignore my entire field of vision. With no visual reference, I can’t tell if the smeared stars are right under my feet or light years away. The illusion is disconcerting.

I try to relax but I’m looking forward to decloaking and getting on with this mission.

I wonder if anyone would notice if I got naked?




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2018-11-07 02:13 pm
Entry tags:

Lower levels

As we crowd the lower levels
Shoulder to shoulder with the livestock
The pungent smell of four-legged and two-legged meat
stuffed together in the hold of the ship
While the gods of wealth haunt the mizzenmast
The mythical 'top deck' that none of us have ever glimpsed
besides the servants
Our concience rots
Our morals erode
Darkness becomes a way of life
The animals infect us
Socially and literally
We forget what it is to bathe
Or share
We tribe
We fracture
We fight
And way up top, they calmly steer the ship
to the edge of the world


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skonen_blades: (hamused)
2013-02-22 07:05 am
Entry tags:

The Island of Dr Seuss

The island of Dr Seuss

A shipwreck has happened
A sailor has come
He’s come to my island
To ruin all my fun

I asked him to leave here
I begged him to go
But now that he’s seen
All my pets I don’t know

He’s seen all the hogmen
The ape people too
He’s seen the dog-panther-
Chimp-snake-kangaroo

etc


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skonen_blades: (Default)
2012-02-04 11:25 pm
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33/365 - Decompression

It's a unique experience to be involved in an explosive space decompression. If you survive, you never forget the sound.

It's like something turns the volume down sharply in the middle of the explosion. The screams, the shattering of glass, even the rushing wind, all suddenly has nothing to express itself with. The air becomes thinner and disperses. The medium through which noises travel expands to the point of non-existence and you're left with the silence of space. Even while all around you people are screaming and flailing, alarms are wailing, and everything that was in the room is now clattering and colliding as it spins out into the starry blackness.

And I should know.

We were on our honeymoon in a Galactic Class 8 Yacht on the starboard promenade eating lobster while the musicians were setting up onstage. The bank of space-facing windows were massive. The official reports said there were four hundred and thirty eight people in the hall with us, relaxing and talking to each other. Most of us were wearing our fanciest clothes, pretending that we were wealthy even though this was a discount cruise. Alison and I had waited long to get married. She was thirty-five and I was going to turn thirty-eight in ten days. She looked beautiful as she turned to signal to a waiter for another coffee bulb.

Perhaps the ship was old. Perhaps it was poorly designed. Maybe a safety inspector was hungover and missed something at the previous inspection.

A sharp crunch like someone stepping hard on a champagne flute right by ear and suddenly the wall to my right became ‘down’ and we all fell into space. Fail safes failed, blast shutters jammed and circuit breakers broke.

That is why my nightmares are silent. When I wake up screaming, it’s from seeing my darling wife bloat, freeze, and rupture. In the dream, she screams as soon as the viewing plate shatters, pluming glittering glass dust into space, and keeps screaming as we are both pushed by strong forces into the black. Her hair whips crazily and she kicks like a first time skydiver, reflexively trying to get her balance in mid-air with no up or down. Her scream starts like a fire alarm and very quickly whips down to silence even though her mouth is still wide open. He throat is still vibrating but her voice can no longer travel to my ears.

Other patrons screams, the clinking of silverware and plates, furniture colliding with the instruments of the musicians, they all fade to nothing and the last thing I hear is my wife’s screaming. The last thing I see is her mouth filling with popsicle blood as her lungs shred in their freezing rush to fill the vacuum.

I see it often. Her mouth is a tattooed O on the front of my mind. The nightmare is down to two or three nights a week.

The sticky safety cables that fired out managed to grab me but they missed her. I was reeled in sharply like a fish and I survived. I was one of only six that did. All six of us were paid a lot of money by the company to keep quiet about the accident. We all agreed to take it.

I am back home now with no need to work for the rest on my life. I’ll never go into space again. I need noise around me at all times, even when I sleep.

I cannot stand silence.




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skonen_blades: (angryyes)
2011-07-29 07:59 pm
Entry tags:

Coldships

It was a shock to learn how short their life spans were but not surprising considering how much naked energy they threw off. We do not know how long we live because none of us have ever died, only changed form.

They called themselves Humans. They are beings of fire. They burn so hot. They seemed to be made of pure radiant heat. They seemed impossible. They had special suits to survive in our environment. Those suits protected us, encasing their boiling energy. They called our environment a ‘vacuum’ and spoke of an ‘atmosphere’ where they lived.

An atmosphere that dimmed the stars on their planet (during a period called ‘night’) and made their transport vessels work tremendously hard when taking off and burn with friction when landing. They also had more gravity on their world. Such fragile, determined creatures. It was inspiring.

We have no ‘atmosphere’. Our planet has low gravity. We achieved space travel by jumping hard into the air and returned by waiting. After a time, we came back down.

The humans had names for our parts. They said we were crystalline. Our blood, when we decided to make it liquid, is thick and able to stay flowing in what the humans see as extreme cold. They called it ferrofluid. Our intelligence is encapsulated in each of our particles. They called that nanotechnology. Each tiny particle of us is a switch, able to align or crook tangent to the other, forming solids and liquids. They say that makes our entire race one living ‘computer’.

They said we were -420 degrees Celsius but that’s only because that was the lower limit of their temperature gauges. Down at our temperature, gases become stable liquids and deep inside us, even colder, some solids do, too. Like iron. “Sloshed around like silver paint in a test tube, like molten lead, all granular like a black and white picture of Jupiter with some sparkles thrown in.” one of the humans said.

We took their form at first so as not to alarm them. We were much taller than them and blue but it helped. Though we can take any shape, we haven’t tried many.

The humans have imagination. They showed us their engineering and architecture data. The math of load-bearing weights and geometry was something we knew instinctually, much like a human catching a ball wouldn’t consciously figure out the parabola and the necessary arc needed to intersect and catch it. We are angles, from our tiniest particle to our largest forms. They showed us flimsy carbon strings they called 'diamond'.

We extrapolated. We improved.

We can make fusion reactors the size of what they call a fingernail. And then we make more. And then we attach many of them together. We do not have to use ‘tools’. We are the tools. We are the systems.

They have told us how to get farther. They didn’t know how to build those machines. They only had theories. They showed us.

We extrapolated. We improved.

We have the ability to create stable holes in space now that help us slide further when we ‘jump’. They have star maps that tell us where to go.

We let them travel inside us in special chambers to go far, to go where they wanted to go, to explore and record together, each experience filling up the cels of our cathedral spaceship bodies.

It’s only fair.




tags
skonen_blades: (didyoujust)
2011-02-11 11:42 pm
Entry tags:

32/365 - Blue Beams

Anyone or anything that enters the blue beams are sucked up into the ships and never seen or heard from again.

The ships came on February 1st, 2015. Giant and bulbous, they populated the sky in one rush of deceleration all around the world. The night side of the planet suddenly gained more stars and the day side of the planet a bunch of tiny suns. It took about an hour of them coming closer, one by one, before they stopped and hovered in equidistant geosynchronous orbits. Nine hundred and thirty-six of them, visible to the naked eye even after their engines had stopped firing. Dots in the sky in a geometric formation hanging a measured distance apart from each other.

The ships did nothing for weeks. Down on Earth, the tension drove people mad. The military went to a state of readiness not seen since the cold war and stayed there, sweating fingertips hovering over red buttons in sub-basements, cameras trained on the sky. Religious zealots called it the Rapture, others called it the apocalypse, spiritualists called it the Age of Aquarius, and regular folk just kept and eye to the sky in fear.

The economy took a major hit as most people cashed in their RRSPs and withdrew their savings. A somewhat useless gesture but it was all people could think of. Sales of gold and jewels skyrocketed. Shy people finally asked that person they’d been crushing on for years out for dinner. Marriages ended with a nod and a high five. Employees who’d been silently disgruntled for years quit their jobs. The end of days felt like it was right around the corner.

Just when the Earth had settled into a hesitant acceptance of the dots in the sky, blue beams of light from each ship stabbed down to earth.

The result was instantaneous. Nuclear missiles fired up at the alien ships from the expected countries and even a few unexpected ones. Of course nothing happened. The missiles didn’t even explode. They were quietly stopped, disarmed, turned inert, and left to fall back to Earth. That didn’t stop us from firing every single missile we had at them. It was like some sort of death orgasm and we didn’t stop until we were spent. Not one missile found its mark or went off.

Probably for the best. We would have done ourselves more damage than them if they’d actually exploded. After that, the fighter jets and satellite lasers were sent. Mostly automated but some brave pilots from the poorer countries who couldn’t afford A.I. or telepresence guidance gave their lives when their planes just stopped working and fell back to the ground.

The blue beams stayed on. Some of them are pointed at the ocean. Some are in remote areas of the planet where hardly anyone lives. Some of them are in metropolitan cities. They are all exactly 204.8 kilometers from each other.

It’s popular to go into the beams and ascend. Some believe it’s a portal to heaven. Some believe that it leads to a gateway to the rest of the universe. Some believe it’s death.

People have tried going up with video cameras and audio equipment but it all stops working the minute they leave the ground. Scientists are still trying to figure out how the beams work.

There are guards and fences around the perimeters of the beams in the major cities but out in the countryside they are left alone, silent blue ladders to alien mysteries. Pillars that glimmer in the daytime and seem to stab up from the earth like a searchlight during the night.

Some lovers have gone in hand in hand. Some notable celebrities have even made the trip. It’s become a tradition in some countries to throw letters to dead ancestors into the streams. Some countries have decided to start using the beams to help with their garbage problem.

They never shut off and the ships remain mute. It’s been seventeen years now. There are teenagers alive now who have never known a world without the beams.

Myself, I come down here to the park and stare at my city’s beam on the weekend. I feed the pigeons and stare at the column of light.




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skonen_blades: (nyeeehaha)
2010-07-14 02:12 pm
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Hunter, Builder

The craft smoked in afternoon sun. The hunter was no judge of aircraft but this strange ship looked damaged beyond repair. Trees lay flat behind it where it had crashed to the ground in the forest. Its silver shell winked in the sunlight, shuddering occasionally as whatever machinery inside of it quaked to a wounded stop. The hunter had seen nothing like it, not even on the newsfeeds. Maybe a new kind of experimental ship that had crash landed but the nearest air force or army base was thousands of miles away.

The hunter was forced to entertain the possibility that this was a ship of alien origin. Setting his jaw firmly and readjusting the grip on his rifle, he stepped forward towards the silent craft. The forest started to come alive again. The violence of the craft’s crash landing had ended. Squirrels resumed foraging, deer resumed grazing, and birds began their songs anew. The ship’s hull ticked as it cooled. The film of frost that had formed on it started to melt in the sun.

The ship lay broken. Through the largest crack in the dripping hull, the hunter could hear movement. A whispering shuffle that ended with a clank. The hunter knew the sound of a wounded animal when he heard it. He advanced to the crack with his rifle ready. The alien inside the craft might was probably close to death or stunned. The hunter walked slowly and softly towards the crack and peered into the gloom.

A silver whip of corded metal shot out from the crack and skated across the hunter’s cheek, laying it open. The hunter’s hands tensed in surprise and he emptied both barrels of the shotgun into the crack. A shower of sparks from buckshot ricochets lit up the interior for a second and the hunter clearly saw the alien life form.

It was like a metal octopus with many more tentacles. The tip of each tentacle ended in a specialized tip. The hunter had shot directly into its center of mass. The creature thrashed and lay still. It was a lucky shot. If the creature had integral organs there, it was almost certainly dead.

The hunter’s cheek buzzed. His right eye closed. He dropped his rifle. There was something in the cut that the alien had made on his face! The hunter’s immediate thought was poison. He felt his heart race and a fever take over his body. He fell to his knees and the sun seemed to get brighter. His breathing came hot and fast. He passed out.

When he awoke, he felt refreshed. He brought his hand up to his cheek to find it healed. He felt the ridge of a scar. Judging by the position of the sun, it looked like about an hour had passed. He stood up, picked up his rifle and went back to his cabin. In the morning, he’d go into town and report what he had found. Right now, though, he was exhausted and thirsty.

It didn’t occur to him until he got back to his cabin that he knew exactly how to build a metal octopus and spaceship. Chemistry beyond his education unspooled in his mind. Mechanical processes popped through his mind. He’d need to invent the tools needed to create the compounds necessary to make the chemical chain reactions that would result in the hardest bonds in the new metal. There were no names for what he was thinking about, just clarity and pictures. The memories of the alien life form were there as well. He couldn’t access them but he knew they were there in a corner of his mind, waiting for download into the shell he now had the ability to create.

It would take six years and it would make him rich if he kept the goal of his projects secret. The patents would change the history of Earth.

The hunter looked at the mirror in the cabin’s bathroom as he prepared for bed. The scar on his cheek was silver.




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2010-03-28 04:12 pm

Rescue

Telescopes were trained on the part of the universe that was missing. Just as scientists had figured out that seventeen per cent was missing, they found out that nineteen per cent was missing. Then twenty. All of Earth’s telescopes were focused there.

That’s when the scientists saw the lights. A collection of what looked like around twenty stars heading in our direction. It was kept a secret from the populace. Wild plans were thrown around for evacuation but between the bickering and the expense and deciding who would get to go, nothing was accomplished in time.

Just as they entered our ecliptic, one of the stars kept heading in our direction but the other nineteen veered left and right, heading to other parts of the Milky Way. Nothing could keep it a secret anymore. The star heading for us could be seen with the naked eye during the day.

As it settled over our own sun, turning it into a lopsided figure eight for us, a smaller star detached from it. It was a ship.

Earth turned its eyes towards that ship as it settled over the equator. We launched our weapons at it and it used the explosions for fuel. We were obviously not going to win this war but we were going to go down fighting. We seemed to be united in that.

“We are sorry” came the voices. Every medium capable of carrying a soundwave twanged with the words. Water, air, glass, wood, paper. All of it resonated with the words translated into every language on the planet. Later, people would remember those words as if they were in a dream. Not exactly their language but they knew exactly what was meant.

“We are sorry. We have started the end of the universe. We cannot stop it. But we can collect you and keep you ahead of the wave of destruction. It will take billions of your years before it eats the entire universe. On our ships, your race can survive. You can adapt. We can take you far in front of the wave and leave you on a planet not unlike this one. A planet that will not be affected for thousands of your years. We are sorry.”

Then the transmissions came. Co-ordinates on Earth. Latitudes and longitudes. These were the evacuation points. Blue beams stabbed down from the sky to those points and waited. Anyone that went into one of those blue beams didn’t come out. No zap, no pile of ash, but people went in and they didn’t come out.

Later, their loved ones would hear them in much the same way that they heard the first voices from the alien ships. The materials of their apartments would reverberate with the soft voices of the loved ones that had walked into the light. “It’s safe.” The voices would say. “Come on up.”

The cities emptied out. The blue lights took most of the populace. It’s taken a year but the Earth is now almost entirely deserted. The voices in the sky have said that they have two more days to collect people but that after that, they’re shutting off the beams and the Earth will be left with mere centuries before destruction.

The Earth is echoing with the voices of the people up above in the ships, calling for those who are afraid of the beams. Every piece of paper, every bell, every wine glass. They’re all softly calling for the ones that don’t want to go. It’s like the Earth is haunted with pleas.




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skonen_blades: (Default)
2009-08-21 12:38 am

Trophies

Katie went from planet to planet, assignment to assignment, and wherever she went, death followed.

Katie was a professional saboteur. She engaged in professional corporate terrorism. She was given a retainer to damage an enemy corporation’s product in such a way that it caused a considerable loss of human life. She was very good at her job. Not the best in her field but just a few rungs down from the top. She was boosted for strength and reflexes but kept away from cosmetic surgeries. She looked in shape for her age.

No one suspected the forty-year old woman seated near the back. Even now. It seemed to be hard-wired into the human brain. That was the edge she kept on all her hardcore male competitors.

The time was coming when she’d finally be caught but it wouldn’t be soon, she thought.

The last ship Katie had destroyed had been a maternity/colony ship. A Mother Ship. Women already pregnant were shipped en masse to new planets. They touched down, gave birth, and a first generation of colonists starting growing right away. It was a great idea. It worked well.

When the Mother Ship exploded thanks to Kate’s tampering with the drives, sixteen thousand pregnant mothers died in a huge explosion.

The blow to Cortelpro’s profits would be huge. It would send them back to peddling refrigerators on a single planet. Low’N’Buy would be proud of her. They’d probably throw in a lucrative bonus.

Katie had sabotaged fifteen ships. Coincidentally, back at her house, she had fifteen heavily-encrypted sound files on her computer.

What Katie liked to do was cause a radiation leak, hull breach or a fire on board the ship and then cut off all transmission ability. The occupants of the ship would understand that their death was near and that nothing could save them. They would try and try to hail passing ships or home bases for help. Nothing would get through. Katie wouldn’t let their transmissions leave.

But she’d record them. The ship’s communication systems would feed right into Katie’s personal recorder until the trap closed fully in white light, radiation, and death.

She had hours of panicked, screaming people recorded on her hard drive. All the people she’d killed crying out in unison as the seconds ticked down to the reactor meltdowns or hull fractures or explosive decompressions.

She’d play them on her speakers when she was between jobs. It was a vacation for her to hear those recording, one by one, realizing that there was no way out. Realizing that this was it.

These fifteen tracks of death were her trophies.




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skonen_blades: (cocky)
2008-07-02 11:22 am
Entry tags:

Commander Breheny

“Cowardice. God damned cowardice!” yelled Commander Breheny.

She’d been in charge of this hunter-seeker for over two months and hadn’t even confirmed one kill yet. She’d trained her whole life for her own command. She’d slain over two hundred enemy Taal-ships, first as a cadet and then as a helmsperson and then as a lieutenant, sending countless Taals to Hell.

She was tall and strong. She couldn’t be called pretty but she definitely had an undeniable air of authority that partnered well with her angry streak. Hard but fair. That was Commander Breheny.

Until recently, that is. The lack of kills was causing her to unravel. A Taal-shuttle would appear in her quadrant but as soon as she pursued it, it would warp away to a safe distance. Still on the scanners but out of firing range. It would not engage and it would always remain one step ahead.

The Taal-shuttle was taunting her and it was working. She couldn’t figure out the angle.

Her bridge crew was starting to become afraid of her. It was the kind of fear that could become rebellion if left unchecked.

Her military overlords were staring to sigh when she reported back every day that she had yet to kill the one tiny shuttle she’d been assigned to terminate.

What she didn’t know was that this was the first test of her command. The Taal-shuttle was being piloted by a human who was interfacing with Commander Breheny’s onboard nav-computer, enabling the Taal-shuttle to always stay out of reach.

It was a snipe hunt. A wild goose chase designed to test the patience of new commanders. The military overlords would act more and more disappointed with the new commander’s performance and the Taal-shuttle would remain out of reach.

All of the new commanders broke. It was how they broke that interested the overlords. How a commander dealt with failure was the last lesson, the most important and final test of command. It was the hardest lesson they had to deal with.

Commander Breheny glowered in her chair, smoldering at the viewscreen. Her crew gave each other nervous sidelong glances.




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skonen_blades: (gasface)
2008-03-23 10:37 pm
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Saboteur

The ship is sinking. My room is called a berth. The fact that I’m about to drown to death in a berth is something I find ironic.

My employers are smart. They sent me onboard with a suitcase bomb. They told me to open it and assemble it once we were sixteen miles out to sea. I’m the saboteur on board. I’m here under a fake name.

This ship was on its way to put a stop to this year’s whale hunt. It was a Greenpeace vessel. I’m a whaler who will lose my family if I don’t complete this mission. My employers are mean people. The righteous people on board with me who run this ship are trusting. This is why evil triumphs.

My employers want the whale hunt to continue. The hunt is one of the only sources of revenue our country still has. We’ve already exported nearly all of our pretty young women. Our drug fields are wilting from global warming. There is no tourism to speak of and nothing of worth is hidden beneath the soil. My country is made of small-minded, vicious people. Less of a government, more of a tribe.

A tribe with a small fleet of whaling vessels. A tribe with some leftover weapons from the Cold War. Leftover weapons like a large pile of C4 and some digital timers and primers.

I was supposed to open the case and assemble the bomb. I’d set the timer, get on a lifeboat, and leave in the middle of the night before the ship exploded. I had a beacon with me that my country would use to find me.

I am not smart.

As soon as I opened the case, the bomb started counting down. Opening the case triggered the countdown. I was never supposed to assemble anything or get to a safe distance.

The sent me on a suicide mission without telling me.

The timer said fifteen seconds. I wasted five wondering what to do. I wasted another six opening the porthole in my cabin. With the last four seconds, I threw the bomb out the window.

It landed in the water, snuggled right up to the hull, and exploded.

I am burnt and I am broken. The salt water pouring into my berth is agony on my wounds. I am deaf and I am blind.

I am drowning and I am grateful.

If my employers have done this to me, it means that they have already killed my family.

I am going to join them.




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skonen_blades: (cocky)
2008-01-14 04:43 pm
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The Bloom of Youth

The ship was called The Bloom of Youth.

The spotlights picked out the peeling paint on the side of the hull. Dull roses and dark green vines winding around the huge lettering.

I managed the tug fleet that found her. Our small fleet of six ships had responded to the scout’s call. We’d gotten here first, securing salvage rights. Our marker buoys were placed. The Bloom of Youth was dark and there was no distress call. That worked in our favour, legally speaking. It was blind luck that the scout picked it up on a routine sweep.

Salvage ops like ours dreamed of opportunities like this.

The Bloom of Youth was huge. It looked bigger than most ship yards could handle. If the writing on the side wasn’t in English, I would have said that it was possibly alien in origin. The design of the hull was standard but it was just the sheer size of the thing that boggled the mind.

Our little fly-speck dots of waspish black and yellow dawdled by its sheer cliff of black iron.

I was beginning to doubt that my fleet of six tugs would be able to take it. Options flitted through my mind. Bringing other contractors in would lessen the profits. The metal from the hull alone would make us all rich, though, and we didn’t even know if there was valuable cargo in it. If there were riches enough, it would justify bringing in others. I knew a small number of people I could trust to not double-cross my crew.

We’d have to go in.

In my cramped cockpit, I leaned forward into the fishglass to look left and then right. The black wall receded to a vanishing point to my left. I was close to the bow so the right side only looked a short ways off of my nose. Perspective was getting tricky so I brought up my sensors.

It made my hair tingle a little. We were still half a mile away from the thing but I could have sworn I was almost touching the hull. It’s hard out here in the dark to judge scale. I went back to the sensors and shut of the naked visuals, comfortable in the scrolling green and amber letters of pocket densities, matter bounces, and radar shadows.

“Let me know where you find the ‘lock, boys and girls.” I said into the throat mike. “I’m going in. Salter, Chrisllyn, you’re with me.”

“Righto,” crackled Salter.

“Roger that” sighed Chrisslyn.

Their tugs angled slowly over to my vector.

I smiled in the light from the instrument panel. This was going to be an adventure. I started to suit up.





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skonen_blades: (bounder)
2007-12-26 11:49 am
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A Boy Named Sue

Haniffer Solowitz was a jackass.

I hated that guy. He’d grown up on Kessel station with us and he had a girl’s name. His father, Flint, had named him after his own grandmother. Then Flint had fled the station one night on a freighter bound for The Troubles.

Hannifer’s mother was not against the occasional bit of whoring to get food and money. His upbringing left a lot to be desired. Still, even that could have worked in his favour sympathy-wise if he hadn’t been such a jerkasaurus. The kid fought like a wolverine. Every day. It took nothing to set him off. We’d go make him mad when we were bored which, on a station this size, was all the time.

He hated women. Something about his mom. After puberty, though, boy! He’d go through them like a chainsaw. It made me ill. And they’d flock! The more hearts he broke, the more got in line to be broken. I can’t deny that we were all jealous but it made almost the entire male half of the class sullen. We’d made fun of Hannifer’s mom and his girly name all his life so we couldn’t blame him for not speaking to us.

I think that secretly, we would have welcomed pointers from him on how to get girls. It was too late for that now. We’d alienated him and he’d risen to the challenge instead of becoming a recluse. Oh, how the tables turn.

He hung out with people much older than us. Twice, I’d seen him through the shields at the station’s bar playing 3poker with tug pilots. They liked his spunk well enough but I’d watch their smiles fall when he won their money.

I remember once he showed up a black eye and keys to a racer. It was the kind of pretentious racer that only had room for two, if you know what I mean. It was also streamlined and arrow-shaped which was totally unnecessary in frictionless space. It would never have been able to withstand atmosphere so the design was just pretentious. He called the front airlocks ‘suicide doors’. And it was bright red.

And I would have given my left nut to have a ride in it, let alone own it.

If Haniffer’s stock amongst the ladies had been gold before, now it was hypercrystal.

I guess he just outgrew this place. He dropped out and started gambling full time. He even ran The Run a couple of times in that little racer of his. The tug pilots let him go out on short-haul missions with him. Some of the tug pilots were known smugglers. I doubt his mother even noticed he was gone.

She died in a messy decompression accident when he was away one time. He came home and trashed the bar when he heard the news. He was tasered and put in the brig. He was in prison during his mother’s funeral. It was an automated process and no one else showed up. The preacher's recorded voice spooled out the non-denominational ceremony to an empty room before her body was ‘locked.

He never came back after that. I had heard that he’d gone straight to the bar after getting out of jail and apologized to the owner. The owner had laughed and said it was okay. He’d seen his share of rough customers. Hannifer had asked if there were any real card games going on and the bar owner had pointed at a table full of legitimate gun-runners who belonged to a credited smuggler’s guild. The stakes were guaranteed to be high.

God only knows what he offered just to get into the game.

He walked away with one of their ships, though, and left Kessel station after winning The Run with it.

I didn’t see him again until ten years later. I remember I was eating spaghetti. The fork was paused, halfway to my mouth, as I goggled at the tri-d.

The Princess was pinning a medal on him for being a hero of the rebellion. I didn’t even know that the empire had fallen!

I should have been jealous but after a close-up on that crooked smile of his, I felt good. I felt like he was one of us and that one of us had made it.






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skonen_blades: (gasface)
2007-12-03 09:29 pm
Entry tags:

Mutiny

I looked at the dashboard with a mounting fear.

The mutiny had gone off and turned messy. The company pilots had been killed when we blew the cockpit door. We’d had to execute our hostages. The airlock was empty now and their inside-out, frozen corpses goggled wide-eyed thirty AUs behind us.

In the not-here of throughspace, I could imagine the feel of passing wind rattling the portholes. I could almost feel the gentle slap of the ocean against the hull even though we were galaxies away from any planet with an ocean. There was nothing, of course, but the silent dimensionless void outside of the windows.

The temperature gauges said that it was both way above and way below tolerable in the vaccum outside. There were other contradictory readings. It was all that I could read.

No one had really mapped throughspace. It got us from place to place but ships that had applied the brakes had either exploded or disappeared entirely. We had to settle for what our instruments told us as we rocketed through.

We knew how to manipulate doors in and out of it but the real essence of what we were traveling through in throughspace was a mystery. Much like gravity in the old days. It could be measured and predicted but the ‘why’ of it was always elusive.

We were halfway through the trip and we had another sixteen hours to go before arrival in hostile territory. We might be able to bluff our way through a patrol or two but once the word gets out, we won’t be able to hide. We’d never be able to stand up to a full search, either. If we got boarded, there would be a firefight.

So here I was. We’d won the fight, struggling up from the prison deck and into the crew quarters. We were vagabonds now, treasonous savages who had killed their captors. Our entire reason for living right now was flight from the enemy and the finding of a safe haven.

All good except for one thing. Pilots spoke a different language than us. They had a verbal shorthand that had developed over time into its own separate dialect. I never really understood why until now.

Several hundred buttons, brightly lit with a Christmas tree rainbow of colours, stared up at me. There were dials, switches, slots, and knobs. A library of discs and glow-cards were stacked on either side.

There was no main stick or pedals.

The pilots in our holding cell, the ones on our side, they had been killed in the mutiny.

No one was left on our victorious team had the ability to pilot a ship. One wrong button could make the ship try to stop or turn and kill all of us. We had no choice but to hope that the ship was on some sort of autopilot and that we’d be able to do some trial and error guesswork once we got through to other end.

The pictograms and symbols on the dashboard were alien and unintelligible. We could just as easily open a hailing frequency as we could fire a missile pulse if we started pressing the buttons randomly.

From below decks, I heard cheering and carousing. I dreaded taking the subleaders aside and telling them the news.




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skonen_blades: (bounder)
2007-11-24 03:42 pm
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Launch Pad

It was a beautiful day for a ship launch.

These are the things I remember.

I remember the sun shining down out of a blue sky that arced from horizon to horizon with only a scattering of clouds above the water miles out from the beach.

I was perched on the small hill about a mile away from the launch site with my mother. Her bright red hair was still full and lustrous but shot through with grey. She’d say to me that every grey hair was from a time I fell and hurt myself. That’s how much she loved me.

I remember her bringing her hand above her eyes in a salute to shield her eyes from the sun. She was perched sidesaddle on her hip in a red dress. She’d tucked her heels up underneath her and was leaning on her other arm. Her hair was teased by the wind. When I remember her, this is the image that comes up the most, her leaning like a hood ornament into the breeze. As an adult, I can look at this memory objectively and see her not only as my mother, but as a woman. I can see how attractive she must have been.

She squinted, bringing a half-smile to her face.

In my memory, she looks out across towards the massive ship.

The ship was white with scooped shapes. It didn’t look aerodynamic but my mom told me that it wasn’t that kind of ship. It was a ‘long-range’ ship which meant that the science was different. It didn’t need to worry about drag and other wind-tunnel qualifications. It would ‘slip’ up and out from this plane of existence and then come back to this dimension at its destination. It would do the same to come back. It wouldn’t take as long as the other way, she said. He’d be back soon.

When I asked her when daddy would be back, she just looked away from me, back up at the ship. I could see love there, but also a little resentment. My father, the astronaut, was going on this trip against my mother’s wishes. I’d heard them fighting at night when they thought I was asleep.

We sat there on our red-checkered blanket having a picnic at the launch. We were there with thousands of other people. Red-necked sightseers, teenage couples, scientists, keen students, and the families of the other sixty astronauts.

We all sat there on blankets with picnics, the men with beers, ready to see the launch take place.

The numbers rang out from the loudspeakers in the distance.

Ten. Nine.

The little radios that we all had shouted out the numbers as well, a half second before the sound from the launch pad got to us. It made an echo of the numbers. I remember feeling like I was in a dream.

Four. Three.

My mother’s hand tightened on mine. I leaned up against her. I was eleven, old enough to be embarrassed by affectionate gestures from my parents but not old enough to do without them. I held onto her and we both watched the ship that held my father and her husband.

Two. One.

There was a clap of thunder and a ripple of imploding wind and the ship was gone. Arcing up from the launch pad was a copy of the ship fading slowly as it rose. It became transparent like a bad special effect as it got smaller until it disappeared completely.

That was sixty years ago. Their calculations were off. The ship came back this morning.

To everyone on the ship, they’d been gone for two months.

They were being briefed. My father was being told that my mother had died twenty years ago, ten years before my own wife. He was being told that I was in a wheelchair and that I had six grandkids.

I was about to meet my father as an old man. He was still thirty-six. I was looking forward to it.



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skonen_blades: (Default)
2007-09-18 12:48 am
Entry tags:

Dreamer

The aliens landed. They were peaceful. They gave us the keys to the car, so to speak, and we were accepted into a Mount Olympus of old races as varied as they were bizarre. That was six decades ago.

Most of the young humans left. They went on vacation aboard the completely free interstellar subway that now connected us to the rest this galaxy, three upper dimensions and a few far-away nebulae as well. Relativistic time constraints being what they are, the walkabouts won’t be coming back anytime soon according to the time-frame of those they left behind. Entire families left together.

Humans dot all the planets, tending bar and doing grunt work in order to afford a couple of days gazing at the hard-to-reach wonders that make anything on Earth look like a tacky tourist attraction. We are the ubiquitous tourists of the universe. We hold maps, squint at signs, adjust whatever life-giving equipment we’re wearing in whatever atmosphere we’re in, and make plans for the day. Most of us are embarrassed about where we come from and are polite to a fault.

Abroad, we’re well-liked.

Technology greater than ours crept across the borders until the entire Earth became docking bays, repair shops, and bars. Earth is a backwater truck stop now. A hub and nothing else. The oceans are covered. Almost all of the nature had been taken but the factories and entertainment centers that are left are non-polluting.

Beloved Terra is no longer. The home of the galaxy’s most enthusiastic transients has become a waystation. It is only a destination for the bored with some time to kill.

My dad owns a junkyard.

I’m perching on the outer rim of a broken flying saucer and looking up at the sky. The light from the surrounding endless city has forever masked out the stars but I know they’re there.

I’m wearing greasy coveralls and wondering what it would be like. My dad says that most of the aliens come here so what’s the point of going out there? I can’t explain that the most high-definition surround immersion doesn’t compare to being there.

Of course, I’m just guessing. I’ve never been anywhere.

I finger the giant wrench I’ve got in my hands and dream of catching a flight somewhere.




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