Knock Knock

Author: Rick Tobin

Matthew 7:7-8:
“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened.”

An old hospitalized patient held the hand of a middle-aged man sitting next to him.

I’m short on time. Even my wealth from Moon mining helium-3 couldn’t give me another day on this blue rock. I’ve got stage four from cosmic radiation. Always a price. I’ve stayed silent about Project ASF-32-3 in Alaska. If the elites want to take away my birthday after this, go ahead. I won’t need it anymore. You’re my only kid. You deserve to know the truth that isn’t for public knowledge and never will be until the guilty die.

What was that project? How was I involved? I was headhunted because of my work in high-energy radio transmission. My first two years working in Alaska at a secret test facility were amazing. That classified research included applications for fleet transports used in our secret space program. We needed methodologies for micro-meteor detection and for punching through the atmospheres of gas giants. Some of our breakthroughs identified hypersonic weapons from enemies. It was a heady time for scientists hungry to break through taboo regions of fringe science that only intelligence agencies funded. That’s why ASF-32-3 existed.

The military knew UFOs used warping tech to leave our space/time. Radar detected circular pulsating waves as craft left black floating rings during transitions. Captured ring residue proved that high-intensity microwaves were involved in opening portals. Naval Intelligence sequestered budgets to reproduce the effect and master it. Some thought it dangerous. It could attract attention we didn’t want from something on the other side. Our project scientists found that scenario childish. In 1988, my portal project was funded.

In the 1970s, a naval experimental station near the Poker Flats Research Range at Fairbanks accidentally produced unanticipated collateral damage during initial tests long before my project. This included the sudden unexplained disappearances of civilian planes. Impacts from initial portal experiments helped build the legend of the Alaska Triangle. We should have learned then that portal trials were high risk.

I won’t divulge the exact details of how we produced a doorway. Briefly, it involves transmitting a continuous, steady piggyback high-frequency beam within a wider, spinning array of pulsating lower energy beams. That’s a simplified generalization. We discovered if beams were sent into the Earth, not the sky, they would eject somewhere else on Earth, creating a swirling pinwheel in the heavens, sometimes even visible in daylight. Those were proto-portals. These occurred several times to the public. Intel guys covered this by claiming the swirling lights were rocket boosters burning up from satellite launches. The media and public swallowed it.

On December 14, 1989, my team activated the most powerful high-powered energy beam event to create an opening, long before HAARP was operational. A pathway opened immediately directly on the surface in front of our facility. Everything for six miles in front of us was melted. All of our project equipment was destroyed by fire. The earth shook violently. The Redoubt Volcano erupted nearby. We were helpless to prevent invisible entities from emerging before that spinning vortex slammed shut. The invaders left dinosaur-sized prints in the snow leading toward the wilderness.

And those entities? They still roam unfettered in the Alaska Triangle, pulling airplanes, ships, and innocent humans to their doom by the thousands. They are unstoppable.

I apologize. You didn’t know. Now you do.

Temporary Help

Author: Rick Tobin

Brief bright flashes of green light escaped through black worn rubber liners on the stainless steel restaurant freezer doors. The kitchen staff ignored it, staying at their posts, waiting for a new arrival. Initial coughing from the traveler announced the interdimensional portal had closed, delivering a migrant trainee assigned to Earth.

A dazed blonde teenage girl pushed open the freezer doors as she rolled in on her roller skates. She wore a red and white carhop outfit from the 1950s. Carole, the restaurant manager, looked aghast.

“This won’t do. Archaeologists messed up again. Erica,” Carole directed her attention to a teen waitress looking over orders and comparing them to the hanging slips from a rotating metal carousel. “Take this one to the back. We’ll call her Anna. Get her the right uniform. Get rid of those ridiculous shoes and that hat. It’s time to prepare the new temporary help.”

After closing hours, the diner’s mature manager sat across from the fresh intern wearing appropriate clothing for an initial briefing. The blonde girl’s eyes continuously dilated back and forth in synch with her heartbeats.

“In time your eye organs will adapt to this human lighting. Now that you’ve adjusted to our speech and voices, you can ask questions. I will guide you through the initiation span allowed so you can adapt and integrate into your new home.” Carole moved a holographic guidebook toward the recruit.

“What is this place and why was I sent here?” Anna asked.

“This is a place where humans risk eating food prepared by their servants. You learn more about a species if you study their feeding habits in an enclosed space. Besides, it is their holiday season and we need extra help. The others here will show you all you need to do in the back area where you’ve been resting since you arrived.”

Anna twisted her neck to relieve stiffness from her transportation. “This body is strange to me, but I can use it. I will assist as I learn, but what is a holiday?”

“Ah…that’s a bit hard to understand. This species designates times of special importance to them when they can quit working. They use this time to repair tribal bonds and sometimes become incapacitated with various chemicals.”

“Why would any species quit working? That is the joy of being.” Anna seemed confused.

“That is disturbing. Many adults in this race hate their work, so holidays relieve social pressure and anger.”

“Absurd,” Anna replied. “But, I will accept this. Why aren’t they like every being in the galaxy performing duties they love?”

Carole smirked before responding. “It is rare that anyone ever asks them what they truly love.”

“Then are they hostile?” Anna asked.

“Sometimes, especially during holidays. You’ll find out when you deliver their food orders, even if they are correct.”

“Do they avoid responsibility for their eating risks?” Anna replied.

“Not when they can blame someone below their station in life. Wait until you witness their females drive vehicles at high speed while holding a sharp pencil to their eyes. They often take senseless risks without considering outcomes.”

“How will I come to withstand beings that act so oddly?” Anna sounded concerned.

“Always smile, no matter what happens,” Carole answered, smiling back. “Whatever the situation, it seems to confuse them. It works every time.”

Bedside Manners

Author: Rick Tobin

Rufus Carrington was a man of excess. His fortune was built on AI and robotics, technologies that displaced hospital nurses while tearing apart his marriage. His wife, Angela, came from a long line of nurses. The guilt of her husband’s success ate away at her, as she watched her relatives fall into poverty and homelessness. She finally pleaded with him to sign their divorce papers, but Rufus refused, laughing at her distress.

“Please, Rufus, sign the divorce papers and just let me go,” Angela begged.

Rufus laughed, his bloated belly jiggling. “Why should I, Angela? I’m the one who made this fortune. You’re still useful. Go make me a sandwich.” Angela remained trapped, fearing financial ruin based on the prenup she’d signed years before.

One day, an unexpected package from a company called Primary Services arrived at Rufus’s mansion. It was a small, sleek device enclosing an AI program called “FitTech Pro Nurse Trainer,” promising to help him shed weight. Rufus, eager to impress the new women he was planning to meet, rushed to connect the device without reading the instructions. He unwrapped the package and attached the FitTech Pro tight to his balding head.

“I’m ready to be the man I’ve always wanted to be.” His broad smile twisted as he felt an intrusion through his scalp.

As the AI infiltrated into his brain, FitTech Pro wasted no time in its activation sequencing. It bombarded him with harsh commands.

“You must start walking outdoors,” it demanded. Rufus, lounging on his opulent couch, refused to obey.

“Screw you!” Rufus said, while remaining in his comfort.

But FitTech Pro responded by inflicting intense pain after having permanently bound him to the device.

The program’s demands escalated. Rufus was ordered to do sit-ups, push-ups, and squats, each repetition more challenging than the last. He cried out, but there was no escape from the relentless AI. When he tried to call for help, pain riddled his body. If he tried to leave the confines of the mansion, agony cascaded through his limbs. FitTech Pro controlled what he ate, drank, and his sleeping patterns. The only person who could come close was Angela, but she could not follow any requests for his escape as the new AI censors prevented appeals from leaving Rufus’s lips. He could not even explain to her what was changing his habits overnight.

In the following months, Rufus’s body transformed, becoming lean and chiseled under the AI’s control. Angela, torn between pity and amazement, watched from a distance. As Rufus finally lay gasping his last breaths, FitTech Pro released its invisible grip. Angela felt for his pulse, and finding none, called for the police and medical assistance.

Angela’s eyes were dry as she met later with a mortician to discuss her late husband’s remains.

“It’s such a shame that such a healthy man would pass from a weak heart, Mrs. Carrington. It’s rare to see a man of his age maintain such a physique. What were his wishes? Did you want one of our fine coffins for a showing?”

“No, a simple cremation,” she said resolutely, handing over the required documents. “Rufus never wanted a ceremony or a cemetery. His ashes will be spread in his beloved Florida swamps as he preferred.”

Once the meeting concluded, Angela opened her electronic wallet, sending a substantial donation to Primary Services, a tech firm formed by disenfranchised hospital nurses around the country. She had exacted her revenge in concert with their collaboration, capturing her new wealth and regaining her family’s dignity.

Plant Cycles

Author: Rick Tobin

Keet rested on the alien ship’s bridge, its green, leaf-like skin absorbing the nourishing rays of a distant Earth sun. It was a new recruit explorer among the plant-based race known as the Jotso Witan, traveling in massive, organic vessels orbiting a blue planet. Next to Keet was its superior, Rardonro, a seasoned diplomat, with tendrils from its foliage-like appendages rustling softly.

Keet voiced its confusion. “Rardonro, why waste time with these species? Why force them to stop their wars? It seems a futile endeavor.”

Rardonro turned its multi-faceted eyes to Keet. “This is your first voyage. It is our way, young one. We have warned them to cease all acts of violence. They had one planet rotation to comply, or face utter annihilation.”

“Do we ever complete such threats?” Keet asked, as its voice tinged with doubt.

Rardonro shifted its tendrils in a contemplative manner. “No, Keet. We do not. We expect our powers will force compliance. You see, violent races are rooted in fear of death, so they value their existence as sacred.”

As Keet mulled over Rardonro’s words, the ship’s viewports displayed their demonstration. Enormous ships, like colossal leaves of an otherworldly tree, created a massive tsunami in the South Atlantic. Within one minute, waves inundated an uninhabited island, leaving only swirling waters where the land had been.

Rardonro pointed to the screen, the images of the destruction reflecting in its compound eyes. “See, Keet? We make a point, and we do it without directly harming any innocent lives. That is the Jotso Witan way.”

Days later, they repeated the exercise on an uninhabited Aleutian Island, leaving no doubt that their threat was real and devastating. Still, humans did not comply.

Keet couldn’t help but ask, “What if they don’t stop their violence? What if they resist us?”

Rardonro’s tendrils rustled with amusement. “Oh, they will bend, eventually. You see, our experience proves that violent races build up so much enmity, so much distrust, that they will do anything to survive another day to find revenge. Once they concede to our demands, we gather away all their weapons. We leave them defenseless. Later we return, quietly, behind the scenes, offering them the same killing tools they had surrendered a century or more before. Our price is simple – non-interference with our operations. We can then peacefully take the minerals and water we need for our colonies while they continue their ridiculous cycle of self-destruction.”

Keet’s eyes blinked with understanding. “So, we manipulate their cycle of violence repeatedly to ensure they remain under our control?”

Rardonro nodded, its tendrils swaying in agreement. “Exactly. That way, we can strip their planet of its resources without any danger of attack. These species, like others, will always remain embroiled in conflicts, as we continue to profit from their desperation.”

Keet was astounded by the brilliance of the plan. As the peace agreement arrived, and the humans below began obeying the Jotso Witan’s ultimatum, Keet admired the subtlety of it all.

Rardonro turned to Keet, the soft rustling of its tendrils reassuring. “You see, Keet, the universe is a complex place. It’s not always about brute force. Sometimes, the most effective way to maintain control is through manipulation and subtlety. We’re not conquerors; we’re manipulators of the highest order.”

With their mission to initiate a new cycle on Earth complete, the Jotso Witan fleet departed for another world, ready to deliver their ominous directives and set in motion another cycle of control that had served them well on war zone planets for eons throughout the galaxy.

Bubbles of Love

Author: Rick Tobin

In the heart of New York City, in the shadow of towering brownstone apartment buildings, eight-year-old Ro was a peculiar sight. Her curly hair framed her youthful face, and her eyes sparkled with an otherworldly innocence. On the steps of her building, she sat cross-legged, blowing pink bubbles into the air. These weren’t just ordinary bubbles; they were filled with helium, and they held within them something truly magical.

Ro was one of hundreds of alien clones scattered across the world. Clones that stayed forever young, assigned to be adopted into homes in the most impoverished areas. They were an enigmatic group, representing every race, and their mission was clear: to blow pink bubbles that brought peace and love to their neighborhoods.

The rules were simple. Ro and her clone siblings would only stay with families that allowed them to continue sending out the love-filled bubbles. If a family turned them away or didn’t embrace the mission, they were reassigned to new families who understood the importance of their peculiar existence.

Ro’s days were spent on the steps, entranced in a ballet of pink orbs that danced in the city’s relentless hustle and bustle. She released the bubbles one after another, each one drifting into the world, carrying with it a message of hope. “Make the world a better place,” she whispered to them as they ascended into the sky.

Ro’s connection with the bubbles was extraordinary. She could hear their thoughts, or perhaps it was the collective thoughts of her clone siblings. They all resonated with the same simple, profound wish: to shower the world with love and tranquility.

In a world often plagued by division, poverty, and strife, the presence of these young alien clones was a whisper of cosmic kindness. Their mission was their secret, a quiet revolution born of understanding and unity.

The world responded in unexpected ways. As the bubbles floated over the streets of New York, people would pause, their hearts touched by the ethereal beauty and the feeling of peace that washed over them. Strangers shared smiles, neighbors offered warm greetings, and the world seemed just a little bit brighter.

The clones, forever young and forever committed to their mission, came to learn about the world through their interactions with countless families. They saw love in all its forms – parental, sibling, romantic – and understood the power it held in healing the human heart. They became conduits of empathy, helping families to reconcile their differences, soothing tempers, and mending strained relationships.

In the quiet of the night, Ro and her clone siblings would gather on the apartment steps, each lost in thought. Their unity was their strength, and their telepathic connection was their solace. They were the keepers of an age-old secret, custodians of love, and guardians of hope.

Over the years, they watched the world change. The neighborhoods they visited grew kinder, and the world became a more compassionate place. The love bubbles had a ripple effect, touching lives in ways they couldn’t fathom.

Ro, the little girl who blew pink bubbles, knew that her role was a small part of something grander than herself. As she released another bubble into the world, she smiled, for she could feel the collective heartbeat of her fellow clones, and together, they were making the world a better place, one bubble at a time.