“Insignificant. That’s what they think of us.”

“I respectfully disagree commander. I’m sure they never intended to hurt our feelings. In fact there was a lot of support for us from the masses.”

“Our feelings? You must be joking. Those ignorant fools don’t even know we exist. I never agreed with our President to adapt their culture and language. Our language had 531 alphabets. A whole 504 more than this stupid English we have adapted ourselves too.”

“You mean 505, sir. But the whole point was too simplify our communication systems. Also, it would have made rehabilitation easier to their planet if we ever had troubles on our own.”

“We are a far superior race. We can not possibly get into any trouble these earthlings could help us with. The only thing they seem good at is increasing their numbers. Their numbers increase in integral proportions. I’m amazed how they do that when their species possesses only one genitalia per specimen. Its shocking.”

“Erm. I’m sure they are good at other things too. Sir. We have observed and implemented other systems from them too. Like their judicial process. By not killing anyone who committed a crime and having them imprisoned after having them tried in the court has both increased our relatively negligent population and also increased employment prospect. Not to mention their game of football. You do realize a petition has been made to convince other planets to take up the sport too and maybe, then we can have interplanetary club teams and all the planets can compete in galaxy cups every held every century.   The possibilities are limitless. It’ll help in establishing peace across the universe and understand new life and new civilizations.”

“Did you just quote Star Trek on me? You know I hate that thing. Universe is not something you can dress pretty and talk your way through. You’ll be disintegrated even before you step out of your solar system. Leave alone your galaxy. Now, Firefly I can relate too. But don’t ever mention Star Trek again.”

“I’m sorry sir. Won’t happen again.”

“I see we’ve reached within range. Shoot the fizziles.”

“Are you sure you want to do this sir? This may be considered as an act of war.”

“An act of war would have been had I shot them with gizziles and annihilated their race. This will only stun them for an hour. Let them know, Pluto is a planet. And we Plutonians don’t take kindly to be ignored or their planet to be demoted off the solar system.”

“Acknowledged.”

written by blistertoe (blistertoe.com)

Police lights turned outside the backyard window.  James stood watching with nothing else to do.  Caught captive in the sprinkling of rain.  Each step he saw in a new drop.  Another idea in a new drop.  Across the street, the house with the noisy dog was quiet.

One thing had happened.  But on the window, a thousand raindrops had landed.  A thousand ideas.  A thousand possibilities of what really happened.  All of them would spread.  Neighbors were emerging.  Evolving from their worlds like slow Cro-Magnon.  Rakes rested on houses.  Mowers calmed down with the lift of a handle.  Jump ropes sank.  Everyone stepped into the streets like a July 4^th parade.  Their gaze fixed on one thing.  A police car parked crooked in a driveway.  Lights slow going.  Silent.  Just the revolving monotony of red and blue.  The sense of sound melted down into a gradual absence.  The absence of one sense immediately heightening the others.  Dirt and summer heat waved up from the streets in a musky haze.  More neighbors spilled from backyards.  The tanginess of barbeque growing putrid in their mouths.  Popsicles were moldy and sticky and dripped down the little ones’ hands.  James saw from the window the final crescendo of Our Town on a cheap MGM backlot.  All the dropped clues and songs and dances pieced together so nicely.  A big white shiny smile.  A gay two-step hand in hand past town hall.  This fascia was shattered by a police car.

James flicked back the window lock.  Lifted the heavy wooden window with a shaky arm.  He propped the hammer in the corner to keep the window from crashing down.  The damp musky breeze hit him first.  Garnered the deepest association.  On the news at lunch, he knew it would be here after  lunch.  The green globs slid towards home as an unstoppable force.  Leaning over a half-eaten bologna sandwich, James was enthralled with its power.  We knew it.  We knew it and we could do nothing about it.  Tomorrow, it would rain.  While we are cleaning up lunch, it would begin to rain.  Slowly.  We would look up, unsure.  Stick out a hand and verify.  The hard, cold force of one drop would confuse us, two would assure us.  It was raining.  The drops would increase slow, and then gradually drop faster and faster as we hustled the patio furniture inside.  The dusty dank scent would leak up from the roadways and driveways.  Our foreheads would be dotted and our arms would collect drops in our little hairs.

James knew it all already.  The rain would come.  It would spoil pick-up games.  Postpone reunions.  Push a bride to tears.  But they would ignore it.  Like he ignored it.  The silly superstitions he would try would not matter.  He could still eat Fruit Loops even if something bad happened the last time.  He could wear the blue boxers.  He could think sunshine.  Say it three times.  Nod.  Put away all his dishes.  It would still rain.  The silly superstitions would not change the rain from coming his way.  He saw the looming green coming.  It was on two stations.

His stomach still felt heavy though as he left his lunch at the table.  He shouldn’t have put on the blue boxers.  He shouldn’t have tempted whatever it was.  He knew what happened the last time.  A dampness spread through him.  He tried to ignore it.  But it sat with him and reminded him.  But he looked at the TV.  The bloated green waves had not changed.  And wouldn’t.  The events of today did not have a specific pattern.  Patterns attached themselves.  James attached patterns to find excuses.  He was aware of it.  The processes.  The patterns.  The reflections.  It must have been this…all the excuses.  No chance.  No choice.  It was coming.  He always knew it.  James sat down.  He was going to be there regardless.  Like the rain.  He didn’t understand why everyone was so shocked to see a police car.

written by blistertoe (blistertoe.com)

Mike Callaghan was bored of his work. With almost no vacation for ages and rather pain causing nature of his job (not to himself, though), he was left with no option but to consider resignation. But his employer won’t let him go. After all he was their best man on the field.

Mike missed all of his kids, who were now grown up enough to play with neutron guns. His lovely wife, whom he had promised a hundred more, would be waiting for him to plant his seed in her. The forthcoming trip to Somalia was the last thing on his mind.

Working with the merchant navy ensured his globetrotting under guise. But Mike wasn’t happy. This was going to be his last assignment. Mike had decided to put his foot down and demand a transfer at the least. Upon reaching the shore, Mike headed straight to the daily flea market of the town and opened a vial full of a gooey green goop that vapourised as soon as it came in contact with damp air. Soon the people Bossaso would be inflicted by a disease never known to man, only to spread it across the Dark Continent.

Not a tough job, but Mike had been doing this for aeons. Mike sat down on his desk and relayed a message across to his boss:

Agent Nebula: Project Africa Immunity Drain successfully deployed. Effects will be seen over a period of 22 years. 1.7 billion Humans targeted to be affected.

P.S.: I need a vacation.

Nebula unzipped the human skin-like polymer on his body and stretched his tentacles. Travel was tiring. Soon the slimy creature went to sleep to dream about his family. And that an inter galactic ship would soon come to take him home.

“Why are they of different colors and sizes!” he disengaged himself from the giant ‘camera’ and looked quizzically at her. She should know. It was after all her daddy’s ‘camera’.

“Mommy says that’s how god knows where all the people come from, like their country, school and all that” she answered with conviction.

“What people??” he frowned. She knew this face. He always looked at her like this when he did not believe her.

“Stupid! When people die, they go to the sky and become stars. That’s how stars are made”.

He pondered over this for a while. She knew not to disturb him when he was thinking. He was obviously in conflict.

“The moon must be my dad then.” he said slowly. “Mom says he is not dead; he just went really far away from us. You see, that is why moon looks bigger than stars, it is closer to us than dead people.”

He smiled happily now, he couldn’t wait to get back home and tell his mom about this.

Slick.

Flesh on glossy paper.

He runs his finger over the image again and presses down gently with his fingertip as if to say, “I was here.”  He lifts the oversized book from the nicked and worn reading table and tilts it beneath the fluorescent light until he can see the tiny map his finger left behind, a universe within a universe.  A hand briefly touches his shoulder and a hushed voice, a voice like light from the past tells him, “Sir, the library will be closing in fifteen minutes.”  He rotates in his chair, a flesh and blood satellite, smiles, and watches the librarian walk back to her desk.  The industrial fan humming in the corner has loosened wisps of her auburn hair so that they float around the back of her neck, swirling like gases in the dust filled air.  He blinks twice.

She is a new star forming and he will name her.

” Wow! where did you get this one from?”

“Got it off the SETI project.”

“Wo! The one where they are trying to find extraterrestrial intelligence?”

“Yep.”

“Hey! Wait a minute…this looks familiar…isnt this…”

“(sighs) Yeah…It is. But how does that make a difference now?”

“Er…I don’t know…shouldn’t it? I mean…don’t you feel anything anymore?”

“You know what? I don’t know! I mean how would it matter now?”

“I don’t know…It should have…it does to me atleast!”

“Yeah whatever!”, he said, firing up the engines now. “We anyways have a long way to go…next I know, you would be cribbing about this place too! What does the picture do to you anyways?”

He looked deeply into the picture for a while and placed in in front of the dash. As they strapped in and blasted off, he finally said,

“It makes me feel homesick…”

0300 HRS – Office of Project Vela, SETI – Earth

‘Professor, the deciphering is complete’

‘What does it say?’

‘It’s the same message that we sent them two weeks ago’

‘Impossible, it took you ten hours to decipher a reflection’

‘Professor, I guess it’s a re-transmission’

Professor takes a good look at the message ‘Bullshit, not a single glitch, this is reflection for sure’

‘So what do we do now Professor?’

‘PIA13122 is a dead planet; it doesn’t have any intelligence, stop the transmissions’

‘But, Sir could it be the case of uh…parallel …’

‘Shut up John and just do as I say’

‘Okay Professor’

0300 HRS – Office of Project Via Lactea, SETI – PIA13122

‘Professor, the deciphering is complete’

‘What does it say?’

‘It’s the same message that we sent them two weeks ago’

‘Impossible, it took you ten hours to decipher a reflection’

‘Professor, I guess it’s a re-transmission’

Professor takes a good look at the message ‘Bullshit, not a single glitch, this is reflection for sure’

‘So what do we do now Professor?’

‘Earth is a dead planet; it doesn’t have any intelligence, stop the transmissions’

‘But, Sir could it be the case of uh…parallel …’

‘Shut up Goi and just do as I say’

‘Okay Professor’