by James Bishop
Chapter 2
When Latome woke in the morning, thoughts from the previous night struck him and, without delay, he set out to his favorite manipulation store—Elite Crafts.
As he opened the door to Elite Crafts a swath of warm air rushed past his face and curled around his neck. Artune Mantas, the shop owner, followed behind the rush of air with like urgency, and before the door had closed he stood eager in front of Latome.
"Ah," said Artune, "what brings you here today, young sir?"
"Um, not much, Mr. Mantas. Just a craft," Latome looked up to Artune and back down again, "a stealthy one."
"Indeed. Indeed you do; have yourself a little mission do you?"
"Just maintenance things really."
"I see." said Artune with a grin.
Artune swung his arms to the side and motioned Latome to move. Behind Latome, in a recessed shelf, sat a T3 Blackhawk command ship.
"This is what you need for your. . . maintenance."
"This can go anywhere in my cube?"
"From one end to the other," said Artune with another smile, "of course it will need a pilot. Any particular species?"
"Uh, yes, human species please."
"Are you sure? Human?"
"Yes, I don’t need much."
"I see."
He took the craft and alien from Artune’s brittle hands, and thanked him for his work.
Latome walked home with a raised chin—for he was sure to do something great, and soon. The human, unsure of his situation, clung to the edge of his cage and rode the gentle sway.
Once back in his room, Latome prepared the vessel with information: coordinates and directions, and placed it under his left arm. The human had released his clutch to the cage and appeared to be asleep now.
His head was small and a large bump protruded the middle of his face. Latome had always said their noses acted as a balance mechanism, but Frecarei insisted their noses were for mating.
Latome slid a narrow tool through a space in the cage and retrieved the Human.
"I have something for you to complete," said Latome, pulling the alien up near his face, "do you understand?"
After a short stare, "I do."
Latome walked to his cube and stared down into his hand at the little human. Despite the creature’s situation, a large smile was wrapped on his face. The alien’s thick, blue eyes rose over Latome’s hand and peered at the cube before them.
After a short, but conclusive, argument the human was placed inside the ship. Latome then pushed the craft through a small hole in the corner of the cube, and reached for his pocket.
"Assume proportional size. Coordinates L2648 P6320."
The craft shrank to a spec and propelled with great speed; it flickered visible and not. Waves of bent space furled in front of the craft as it skipped across the universe. Moments later, the craft reached its destination.
A brilliant star exploded near the edge of the cube and Latome’s right cheek glowed red.
"There is a structure to your east, go there with your things and complete your objective."
"Yes sir."
The structure was a farm; a place used by the humans to manipulate their world, to create a system that previously did not exist. Latome respected the humans for what they had accomplished.
Under a dim porch light, a young human man sat smoking a cigarette. The alien’s shadow was its only warning.
"Whoa, what the hell you doing out here? Where’d you come from?"
"Tell him you have come to help him."
"I have come to help you." said the alien.
"Help me with what?"
Latome continued to control the alien’s actions and words from his cube, light-years away.
"I have brought information for you, things that only you will know."
"Mama’s gone and I ain’t got no money."
"I need nothing from you other than your time. Please, may we go inside?"
"I don’t get it, what did ya bring? What’s in them there bags?"
The alien stared at the human with intent and importance. Maybe it was the man’s young age, or maybe just his stupidity; he stood and allowed the alien to follow him inside. They walked to a filthy room and sat on a brown couch with patches of orange scattered along the bottom.
"The things I give you must go to the right people. You must get this knowledge to those who can understand it."
"We don’t have no money to buy stuff."
After a pause the alien reached into a bag and placed several items across the stain infested coffee table, sitting uneven, in front of him. One by one the alien described their purposes.
"These seeds produce vegetables which can feed many people." the alien said handing the man a black bag with several thousand blue seeds inside.
"You really came here to give me seeds? That’s what you must give me?"
"These plants require no water or soil, they will grow in any condition."
"No water or soil? That’s impossible."
"The things I give to you are possible; you’ve just to imagine them. Please, let me continue."
The alien stretched his arm and held out another black bag for the man. Convinced an escaped patient was in his home, the man smiled and took the bag.
"Ok, um, thank you for bringing these seeds."
"I’m not finished, not too much longer."
Latome leaned forward and looked at the little, blue planet swirling in front of him. He didn’t blame the man for not believing; it was fabricated. Not the advanced seeds, but his planet—his entire existence.
"Ok, ok, but we gotta hurry. Mom’ll be home soon."
She would be, and the smell of t.v. dinners and root beer would follow just behind.
"Those seeds produce meat. They also do not require water or soil."
Not wanting to slow the stranger from leaving, he accepted them with no questions.
But the alien continued. More knowledge was shared in less than an hour than had been discovered in millions of years. The things he shared would change humans forever: the necessary knowledge to create life and manipulate it freely, without error; better ways to map space and to travel in it; computers that act and react with humans; and of most importance—the mechanics of the human brain. They were all laid out and described. Somewhere along the way the man began to believe the alien and his small brain was soon overwhelmed.
"I. . . I have to get some sleep."
"Of course you do. I will leave you now."
Latome stood from his chair and watched the infiltrated planet with intent. A spec-sized flash caught his left eye, and the mission was over.