Copyright 2015 by Jack Bragen
I sipped my after work microwaved instant coffee in the gold lamplight, and the clock atop my bookcase showed it was well after midnight. A lone, formidable-looking spider climbed from a crack in the sheetrock, and meandered its way toward the ceiling, probably in search of some mites to feed on.
Why was I so restless?
Abruptly, I heard a scrunch-scrunch coming from within my right ear canal.
Ordinarily, the solitude and peace of being alone in my tiny apartment after another shift at Wal-Mart made me happy.
Scrunch, scrunch.
Surely it was a bit of congestion in my ear. I had earwax remover stuff in the medicine cabinet. I flipped the bathroom light switch and the halogen bulb flashed and was dead.
Vertigo. I grabbed hold of the doorway to steady myself, then with effort, made it to my chair, and sat down heavily.
Caa-runch.
Damn, something was wrong with me. I reached for my cellphone and my arm was awkward--the phone dropped to the floor. I wanted to pick it up and call 9-1-1, but I couldn't get up from the chair.
"Can you hear me?" a voice emanated from the middle of my head.
"Who's there?" my voice came out crackly and faint. Something was wrong with me. Was I having a stroke?
"You have such a good brain, why Wal-Mart?"
I said, "Where are you and who are you?" My eyesight was faded, and my heart pounded.
"No matter. The takeover will commence shortly. Meanwhile, turn on your television and put it on CNN."
Without my volition, my arm picked up the remote, turned on the television, then switched it to the news.
"Breaking News... Humans taken over by intelligent worms..." The afterhours newscaster had a greenish worm emerging from her eyelid, apparently coming from behind her eye. It wiggled its way down her face, down her neck, and then crawled into her shirt.
"We owe a debt of gratitude to our human hosts who have made our success as a species possible. If you are a human watching this, you should know that we will refrain from eating some of you so that you can provide for us and help us create our new civilization..." The worm infested newscaster paused and seemed as though struggling to lift her hand to her head, then the impulse visibly ceased. "If you cooperate, we will allow you to have a full three hours a day--free of control! We are very magnanimous."
I spotted a pair of antique, sharp-pointed scissors on my desk in a penholder. I wanted to gouge this thing out of my head.
"No, you won't do that. I won't let you." The voice in my head had become louder, more distinct. I concluded that I couldn't move except when the thing in my head wanted me to.
The spider that had made its way to the ceiling was now headed back toward the crack in the sheetrock. Two greenish worms emerged from behind a wall poster and gave chase toward the spider. They caught up with it, wrapped around it, and made it a quick meal.
The voice in my head (presumably that of a worm) said, "Such is life..."
End.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Fiction for Autumn 2015
FICTION: TOO MUCH IMAGING
JACK BRAGEN
Copyright 2015
Jacob, sitting across from his nephew Scott, wiped sweat from his forehead with a Kleenex. "There were security cams in the showroom." Jacob was fixated upon a standard video image projected into the center of a darkened office. He was skeptical, half-believing that he viewed a mere recording.
The display showed himself, fifteen years younger, on a typical day at his job--he had been a salesperson of Toyota antigravity cars. The place and time had him sitting at his desk across from a hopeful customer.
The nephew replied, "Why not see a cross-section of the inside of your body? Would that convince you?"
Jacob replied, "Is there something less shocking you can show me? How about the inside of my desk drawer?"
"Sure," Scott said. He fiddled with his controls, and Jacob could see a notepad, a special fountain pen that he remembered, and the keys to his own vehicle.
"Zoom in on the notepad and get a straight angle."
"Sure."
The display showed a shopping list that rang a bell in Jacob's memory. He took a gulp of water from a small cup on his desk. "What are the limitations of this gadget?"
"You can't transmit matter or electromagnetic waves backward. You can only view. You can't see the future."
"This would put half of historians out of a job," Jacob said. "You say you invented this in your garage?"
"My buddy the mathematician helped, and I got help from another physics major--have you met Barbara? Neither of them knows of the full invention."
"Then this is patentable?"
Abruptly, the gadget went haywire, and it showed the light of Sol as bright as the projector could get, against the inky blackness of space. Jacob put up his hand to shield his eyes.
"Just a minute, I have to make an adjustment," Scott said.
"Well, you've got your money."
The display went back to the previous image of Jacob fifteen years earlier.
"Just for the heck of it, can you show me my house so that I can remember what my wife used to look like?"
"Okay, I'll try that." Scott fiddled with the controls some more, and Jacob could see a picture of his house. The perspective of the image moved through the walls of his house. What he saw next was disturbing.
Jacob saw his wife, fifteen years in the past. In the time viewing machine's display, she sat at Jacob's breakfast table in her bathrobe. Sitting across from her was the young valet parking attendant who had, at the time, worked at the car dealership, and he was wearing Jacob's bathrobe. He took a sip of coffee from Jacob's coffeepot, and gave Jacob's wife a kiss on the cheek. The audio came through with some distortion, but Jacob could hear him say, "That was great, sweetheart, once again!"
Jacob moaned. "Oh God! This isn't some kind of prank?"
"Sorry about that," Scott said. "This is as accurate as the back of your hand."
Jacob abruptly left his office. Scott put the invention back into its carrying case and went home a bit baffled.
The next day, Scott repeatedly tried to reach his uncle, with no luck. He finally became desperate and drove to Jacob's house.
Jacob opened the door. "The world isn't ready for your invention." He appeared miserable, he was unshaven, and Scott detected a faint smell of alcohol. "Now I'm looking at a divorce, and I have no evidence other than your machine to prove anything. This means I will also be paying alimony. Good luck finding another investor." And at that, he shut the door in his nephew's face.
JACK BRAGEN
Copyright 2015
Jacob, sitting across from his nephew Scott, wiped sweat from his forehead with a Kleenex. "There were security cams in the showroom." Jacob was fixated upon a standard video image projected into the center of a darkened office. He was skeptical, half-believing that he viewed a mere recording.
The display showed himself, fifteen years younger, on a typical day at his job--he had been a salesperson of Toyota antigravity cars. The place and time had him sitting at his desk across from a hopeful customer.
The nephew replied, "Why not see a cross-section of the inside of your body? Would that convince you?"
Jacob replied, "Is there something less shocking you can show me? How about the inside of my desk drawer?"
"Sure," Scott said. He fiddled with his controls, and Jacob could see a notepad, a special fountain pen that he remembered, and the keys to his own vehicle.
"Zoom in on the notepad and get a straight angle."
"Sure."
The display showed a shopping list that rang a bell in Jacob's memory. He took a gulp of water from a small cup on his desk. "What are the limitations of this gadget?"
"You can't transmit matter or electromagnetic waves backward. You can only view. You can't see the future."
"This would put half of historians out of a job," Jacob said. "You say you invented this in your garage?"
"My buddy the mathematician helped, and I got help from another physics major--have you met Barbara? Neither of them knows of the full invention."
"Then this is patentable?"
Abruptly, the gadget went haywire, and it showed the light of Sol as bright as the projector could get, against the inky blackness of space. Jacob put up his hand to shield his eyes.
"Just a minute, I have to make an adjustment," Scott said.
"Well, you've got your money."
The display went back to the previous image of Jacob fifteen years earlier.
"Just for the heck of it, can you show me my house so that I can remember what my wife used to look like?"
"Okay, I'll try that." Scott fiddled with the controls some more, and Jacob could see a picture of his house. The perspective of the image moved through the walls of his house. What he saw next was disturbing.
Jacob saw his wife, fifteen years in the past. In the time viewing machine's display, she sat at Jacob's breakfast table in her bathrobe. Sitting across from her was the young valet parking attendant who had, at the time, worked at the car dealership, and he was wearing Jacob's bathrobe. He took a sip of coffee from Jacob's coffeepot, and gave Jacob's wife a kiss on the cheek. The audio came through with some distortion, but Jacob could hear him say, "That was great, sweetheart, once again!"
Jacob moaned. "Oh God! This isn't some kind of prank?"
"Sorry about that," Scott said. "This is as accurate as the back of your hand."
Jacob abruptly left his office. Scott put the invention back into its carrying case and went home a bit baffled.
The next day, Scott repeatedly tried to reach his uncle, with no luck. He finally became desperate and drove to Jacob's house.
Jacob opened the door. "The world isn't ready for your invention." He appeared miserable, he was unshaven, and Scott detected a faint smell of alcohol. "Now I'm looking at a divorce, and I have no evidence other than your machine to prove anything. This means I will also be paying alimony. Good luck finding another investor." And at that, he shut the door in his nephew's face.
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