by submission | Dec 3, 2009 | Story
Author : Kevin Hosey
It was after him.
Captain Kurt Avenel hadn’t seen the alien creature himself, but the last radio transmission from his first officer gave him a brief, panicked description: two meters tall with a reptilian body, razor-sharp teeth, and jagged claws. Their deep space freighter, the Leonine, had recently passed through a dense cloud of meteorite fragments. Avenel speculated the alien was concealed on one of them and somehow made its way inside.
That’s when all hell broke loose.
The creature began methodically stalking the seven-person crew. After all efforts to trap or kill it failed, Avenel ordered everyone else to abandon ship.
Then he became its intended prey.
Sweat prickling his face, he peered cautiously down the corridor leading to the last remaining escape pod. Flashlight leading the way, he stepped into it. It was shrouded in dense darkness. For one terrifying moment, he felt as if he had slipped outside the confines of the ship and was adrift in space.
And then he heard it. A voice.
“Ruuuuuuuun…”
A voice…inside his head.
BAM!
Something metallic smashed against the deck. Avenel jumped so violently, he lost his grip on the flashlight. The cylinder rolled on the deck, then bumped against a square piece of slatted metal. It was the cover to the ventilation shaft above him.
That meant the alien was in the corridor with him!
Avenel cried out when the darkness seemed to solidify and slam him against the bulkhead. Lit in the halogen beam of his flashlight, he found himself peering into the open jaws of the alien monstrosity. It was a cavern of serrated teeth dripping with green saliva.
Eyes open so wide his lids threatened to rip loose, and heart pounding as if begging desperately to escape, Avenel watched as the creature’s mouth curled into a demonic smile. The alien’s face edged even closer until Avenel’s entire world consisted of nothing but its foul breath and piercing red eyes.
And then—it spoke.
“You’re…IT!”
Suddenly, impressions of the creature’s thoughts flittered through Avenel’s mind. A child. It was a child. And it wanted to play.
Run?
The word Avenel heard moments before. It was some sort of psychic emanation coming from the creature. It wasn’t stalking him. It was playing with him, just as it had been with his crew.
Suddenly, Avenel dropped and hit the deck as the alien released him. Confused, he watched as the creature scurried away…giggling.
“Come find me,” it called out in a thick, guttural voice. Then it was swallowed by the darkness.
Avenel blinked. What was it talking about?
Then he knew. Hide and seek. The thing was playing hide and seek.
And now, apparently, Avenel was “it”.
The captain of the Leonine had seen many strange things during his years in space. But that was definitely the strangest. A huge, terrifying, yet harmless alien child, perhaps lost and lonely, had come on board simply searching for someone to play.
With that realization, Avenel’s fear and anxiety slipped away. No longer afraid for his safety, he sat wondering what his next move should be. The company he worked for had a standing order that any initial contact with sentient alien life should be pursued in the hopes it may lead to future profitable business ventures.
Okay, so what now? How would he pursue relations with a childlike being?
After a few moments of deliberation, he shrugged and stood up. Retrieving his fallen flashlight, Avenel stared in the direction the alien had vanished.
Then he cleared his throat, counted to a hundred and called out, “Ready or not, here I come.”
by Roi R. Czechvala | Dec 2, 2009 | Story
Author : Roi R. Czechvala, Staff Writer
The massive ship hung motionless over the city, menacing in its silence. Below in the preternatural darkness the frightened population cowered in their homes, their offices, their automobiles. One thing was certain… death was imminent.
Not a sound came from the ship as it slowly rotated above them. Had it not been for the fact that it was only slightly smaller than Rhode Island, it wouldn’t have been noticed at all.
It hung above the terrified metropolis like a restless turd, watching, plotting, seemingly readying itself to unleash a fiery Hell upon the peaceful citizens.
As the minutes flowed into hours, slowly, one by one and in small groups the terrified people emerged from their places of refuge and stared unblinking into the twilit sky. They regarded the craft with unabashed awe, almost with reverence, definitely with fear.
Hushed whispers began to emanate from this crush of humanity as they clung together trying to make sense of this singular event.
“Where did it come from?”
“What do they want?”
“Do you think they’re friendly?”
“I have to pee.”
But the strange craft ignored their inquiries, that is if they were heard at all. It continued to hover patiently above the city as seemed to be its wont.
Soon, under the command of the governor, the national guard arrived bristling with weaponry. Legions of tanks formed, and lines of artillery were aimed to the sky. The mightiest army the world had ever seen converged upon this spot below the object, but the ship didn’t seem to mind.
Calls went out across the land and around the globe. Enemies of centuries put aside their differences and worked together as one. Cats and dogs walked side by side. Soon the military might of a unified Earth formed, prepared to do battle with this otherworldly foe.
A famous general spoke to the masses. His voice carried on every television and radio.
“Though we face our darkest hour, let it not be said that we went willingly into that cold dark night, for here we stand, here we fight.”
With weapons pointed for devastation and minds turned inward to faith, all of mankind waited, as if in mutual embrace.
Suddenly the air was rent by a powerful sound, that shattered the windows, and caused the buildings to quake. It was a sound to make children shiver and grown men shake.
As quickly as it started, silence returned. Then a voice was heard from up in the air. It started out low, then started to grow. In unaccented English clearly was heard;
“All right already, quit your bitching. One damn mistake and your crawling up my ass. Give it a rest woman. Damn it. Uh…hey… um excuse me? Um… the missus and I were on our way for a little outing in the Horse Head Nebula, and well…he he… and well, it seems we have got ourselves turned around a bit…shut up woman I‘m asking… so if you could just point us in the right direction…”
by Duncan Shields | Dec 1, 2009 | Story
Author : Duncan Shields, Staff Writer
He never got along with adults after the war. Only the children. I remember him needing to angle himself just a little bit to fit his wide shoulders through our front door. He was all grunts and one-word answers.
He was married once but she left him after the war. She said that the humming his augmented body made at night made her feel like she was sleeping next to a refrigerator. Then she’d pause, glance at him and add, “In more ways than one.”
He was my older brother. I was one year too young for conscription when the troubles started. I remember him leaving. That was the last day I saw him as a pure human.
He spent four years out there. He had medals. He’d been honorably discharged after the war. I didn’t know him any more. I no longer recognized him as my brother.
He’d show up here every Sunday for dinner.
Both his eyes were perfect circles, white plastic insets that could see in the dark and look through walls. They looked like child-safety outlet covers jammed into his eye sockets. Light blue tracery zigged and zagged back to his grey-haired temples and down each side of his neck.
We always gave him the cheap glasses and cutlery because of the lack of delicate motor control in his massive skin-sheathed hand-machines. When he walked, one foot clanked.
We’d serve him a turkey dinner or roast beef which he ate obligingly to fuel the biological components of himself but it was always disconcerting to see him finish his meal with a big glass of oil.
After dinner, he’d mess up my child’s hair and do magic tricks. The decommissioned weaponry that the government took back left large hollow compartments in his back and one quarter of his chest. With clumsy sleight-of-hand, he could make objects ‘appear’ out of those compartments.
He could make miniature lightning bolts between his fingertips that would dim the lights and make his own hair stand on end like Einstein.
It made me shiver; thinking of how many of the enemy must have died screaming and blackened under those sparking mitts.
My theory was that the indirect and subtle world of adults was confusing to the changed cyborg soldier mind of my brother. The only time I saw him smile was with my child. His nephew.
Children were pure, straightforward and had no idea that he was frightening.
We probably would have tried to find a polite way of stopping him from coming over if these nights weren’t the highlight of our son’s week.
I’m looking at the two of them now, laughing on the living room carpet while one of my brother’s hands runs around by itself. My son’s laugh sounds like a normal child’s laughter.
My brother’s laugh sounds like crushed tin cans being rubbed together at the bottom of a well.
by Patricia Stewart | Nov 30, 2009 | Story
Author : Patricia Stewart, Staff Writer
After the Great Energy Wars of the twenty third century, human civilization was almost non-existent. The human global population had been reduced from nine billion to a few hundred thousand. The original global superpowers, China, India, and the USA had been obliterated. Radioactive fallout made much of the Earth’s land surface unusable. Most of the survivors were clustered into small nomadic tribes that were widely dispersed in areas that contained reasonably fertile soil and where there were some animals to hunt. The birth rate was low, and the mortality rate was high. If you were lucky enough to reach forty, you were probably the oldest person within a thousand miles. Life was very hard, and everyday was a struggle. However, all that was all before the Leonians arrived.
The Leonians were a humanoid race from a planet orbiting a star called Regulus. They were a little smaller than humans, had greenish skin, and no hair. They had four eyes; two in the front, and two in the back. That was kind of creepy, but they were nice folk, nevertheless. They arrived with a fleet of 1000 spaceships. They claimed that they had been monitoring Earth for several years and wanted to provide assistance. They said it was what their species was driven to do; help others that were less fortunate. Their offer seemed sincere, and quite generous. I don’t know if the rest of the world agreed to accept their help, but the hundred of us living near Johannesburg did.
They got to work right away. They began neutralizing the radioactive areas and purifying our water supply. We helped where we could, but their robots did most of the real labor. They even built us a community center on the top of a small hill. We used the building for group meals, town meetings, training, and minor medical treatment. During the weekly town meetings, the Leonian captain would regale us with fascinating stories of exploration and adventure. We’d listen for hours on end. Life was good.
Eventually, we had ample farm lands, plenty of clean water, a small hospital manned by robots, and even a one room schoolhouse. Then one day, the Leonian captain informed us that he needed to move his ship to another location, to help other humans who were still struggling to stay alive. He said that he’d stop back now and then to check up on us, and to swap out the three crew members that had volunteered to stay with the settlement. We gave them a big going away party, thanked them at least a thousand times, and wished them luck at their next stop.
Everything seemed to be going smoothly until about a year later. We started noticing involuntary changes in our vocabulary. Instead of saying “God bless you,” after someone sneezed, we said, “Gluon nigh vit.” We started uttering other unknown words, like muon, lepton, and hadron. The children made strange sculptures and bizarre drawings. When we asked one of the resident Leonians if he understood what was happening, he was overjoyed. “Ah, this is wonderful news, my children. You have finally begun your greatest journey. I was hoping that the conversion would occur while I was still here with you. The Holy Cosmic Egg must be thrilled that you have cast away your false gods and have come to worship in his glory. Come, let us pray together.”
by submission | Nov 29, 2009 | Story
Author : Jeff McGaha
A red-haired man walks directly up to the customer service counter. He carries in his right hand a metal cage with a tiny brown hamster inside. Reaching the counter, he drops the cage thoughtlessly, jostling the small creature inside.
“Scuse me,” He says to a man in a royal blue short-sleeved collared shirt.
“Yes sir, how may I help you?”
“I’m havin’ some problems with Neo here. I thank he’s broke.”
“Ohh, that is unfortunate. What is exactly is the problem?”
“He got out de other day and attacked me cat.”
“Ohh, that is too bad. Is your cat okay?”
“Naw, he’s dead.”
“Ohh, my.”
“Yeah, hampsters ain’t suppose to attack cats. Suppose to be de other way round.”
“Ohh, yes. Most definitely. I am sorry to hear about your cat.”
“It’s okay. Been meanin’ to get a fake one anyways. I ain’t got de time to keep takin’ care of a real one anymore.”
“I completely understand, sir. I have two artificial dogs myself. I do not know why anyone would want a real animal anymore.”
“Dogs, eh? Not much fer dogs. I’m more of a cat person.”
The man in the royal blue shirt nods and reaches into the cage and grabs the hamster. The hamster growls at him.
“That is not right. Hamsters definitely do not growl. I definitely know what the problem is then.”
“So, you’ll be able to fix ‘em?”
“I believe so.”
The man in the royal blue shirt holds the hamster in his left hand and pinches the hamster’s head with his right thumb and index finger. The hamster becomes rigid and the top of his skull pops open, exposing a tiny socket. The man in the royal blue shirt pulls a small hand held device out from under the counter. There is a short cable wrapped tightly around the device. He unwinds it and plugs the end of the cable into the jack embedded in the hamster’s skull. He taps on the hand held device for a few seconds.
“Yes. It appears that the hamster has inadvertently been given canine programming rather than rodent programming. That’s an easy fix.”
He taps a few more times on the hand held device. The hamster goes limp.
“Okay, everything is fine. I have just flashed him with rodent programming. He will be up and acting normal in about 10 minutes.”
“Thank gawd. My kids woulda been real upset if anything happened to Neo.”
“Yes, sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yeah, ya got any calico’s in stock?”
by submission | Nov 28, 2009 | Story
Author : Erin Searles
“Cats,”said Big Fat Dave. “It was cats that started it in this reality.”
In his channel’s feed I saw Archibald, Big Fat Dave’s big fat cat, stretch as if in agreement.
He continued: “You know how cats will watch something or someone crossing a room when you can see there’s no one there. That ‘s them watching people on alternate reality channels. That’s how we figured out how to do it. Scientists did studies on cats’ brains.”
“I doubt it.” Pink Dave scoffed. Pink Dave hadn’t chosen his own nickname. The day we all first met Pink Dave had been wearing a pink shirt and tie. He didn’t like it, but nicknames stick.
Recently things hadn’t been going so well for Pink Dave. We hadn’t seen him in a shirt and tie for a while. He’d stopped shaving for so long that he was a better candidate for Bearded Dave than I was. Maybe he could be called Bearded Dave when I was gone.
“It was those scientists at CERN, right?” He looked to me and Not Dave for agreement. “You Daves have CERN in your worlds, don’t you? Back in the noughties they build a machine they thought might end the world, but instead they discovered how to view the alternate realities.”
I wasn’t keen to gang up on Big Fat Dave, who worshipped his cat slightly more than was healthy. I answered as diplomatically as I could.
“Yeah, we have a CERN here and they did build the LHC, but I don’t remember anything coming of it. I think the tech came from the American military on my channel.”
Not Dave shrugged. “It’s probably different for all the channels, that’s the point of alternate realities, right?”
Not Dave’s name was actually Andrew, we didn’t know why. Like the rest of us he was the 32 year old son of Jack and Nicola Upton, but in his reality they had called him Andrew, not Dave. It was strange for him to realise after a lifetime of being an Andrew that he was, according to probability, a Dave. He elected to be known as Not Dave, despite not needing the differentiating nickname.
Pink Dave was about to start arguing again. I headed him off:
“Guys. Do we want to spend my last night retreading the same old arguments?”
“Hell no,” said Not Dave. “ Let’s raise a glass to Bearded Dave.”
They all lifted a can, in strange unison in their respective corners of my screen. Not Dave and Pink Dave had beers; Big Fat Dave was drinking Coke.
“Bearded Dave,” they chorused.
I picked up my own drink to toast them back.
“Dave, Dave, Andrew it’s been a pleasure knowing you all. I wish we could carry on being friends… I’ll always remember you.”
We all lapsed into silence. It was close to midnight, the time when my channel would block all other realities from viewing us, and, as the inter-reality laws decreed, be blocked in return – who wants someone watching you when you can’t watch them back. Despite international outrage my reality’s committee governing reality channels hadn’t backed down. People had been given a month to say goodbye to friends on other channels while the final appeal went through. It had failed and at midnight the switch would be thrown.
“It sucks, man.” said Big Fat Dave.
More silence. One minute to midnight.
“Bye Daves.”
“Bye Dave.”
“Bye mate.”
“See you Dave.”
Black screens. Channel 1353 had blocked. I sat back in my chair – an isolated Dave in an isolated world.
