Blurred Vision: Seven billion voices about to be silenced

by Chris Botragyi

  Hargreaves moved into the middle of the group, nodding in agreement with the Professor. ‘Well, they might have placed Tom here purposefully because of his mental state – knowing that he would crack, knowing that one of us wouldn’t be able to handle the noise, for example. Maybe Mark is here for his rational thought, or more likely his extensive scientific education. Perhaps they know that James’ nature would side with Tom, I could go on…’

  John and James slowly looked around the room as though the creatures were watching and listening. Tom was becoming restless again; James gently stroked his sweaty brow to ease the man’s fears.

  ‘All I will say – AND THAT GOES OUT TO THE ALIEN BASTARDS THAT ARE LISTENING – is that the military will never give up, so long as there’s fight left in them!’

  John raised an eyebrow. ‘I hope you’re right, General, I hope you’re right.’

  Mark placed a soft hand upon John’s shoulder. ‘They are probably out there now, engaging the enemy to protect us all. Hell, we could even be winning!’ he said, determined to strengthen the mood. He then looked to the General. ‘Could be why we’re here, so they can gather the information from us that they need, you know, because they are losing?!’

  ‘That is quite possible, Professor, I wouldn’t put anything past these bastards,’ said Hargreaves, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep warm.

  James pulled himself away from Tom; he let the body slide carefully out of his arms as he cradled Tom’s head, protecting it from hitting the floor. He placed his own rough hand over Tom’s mouth, trying to stifle the oncoming fear. The trembling response jarred the grating hard. Everyone looked to him as they feared the worst.

  Hargreaves rolled his eyes as Tom’s whining finally shattered his calm thoughts. ‘Will you shut up, Tom!’ he snapped. He turned and straightened his uniform again.

  ‘General, take it easy,’ said Mark with a firm glare, trying to keep everyone levelheaded.

  ‘Don’t tell me to “take it easy”. Who the hell do you think you are?’

  Mark was taken aback by the sharp tone. ‘General, I know that you’re angry, we all are, but this isn’t helping.’

  Hargreaves turned and faced Mark. ‘Isn’t helping?’ he laughed. ‘You would know all about helping, wouldn’t you!’

  ‘What are you going on about, General, what are you trying to say?’ Mark’s cool exterior was also beginning to deteriorate. ‘Don’t skirt the issue, if you’ve got something to say, say it.’

  Hargreaves’ eyes narrowed as he came face to face with the Professor. ‘You really have no idea, no inkling of what you did – found?’

  Mark shook his head in confusion. ‘No, General, I don’t.’

  The others began to take interest in the heated conversation; their curious eyes and ears concentrated on the unfolding scene before them.

  Hargreaves noticed. He watched their expressions through the thin veil of mist. ‘Don’t any of you remember the Californian blackout, the day that history was changed forever? Ah, no, you wouldn’t know because it was quickly covered up. But let me tell you all about our good Professor here.’ Hargreaves almost revelled in his oneupmanship over Mark as he turned his attention back to the Professor. ‘Our man here is part of a genius group at Stanford, a group which successfully discovered time travel!’

  ‘Time travel?’ said John with a quizzical look.

  ‘Yes, though they only managed to go one way – backwards.’ Hargreaves moved closer to Mark, his body language becoming aggressive. ‘Tell them what little fragments remain, Professor. Tell them what you found.’

  Mark felt fear as all stares centred on him. Even though the room was dim, their eyes seemed to burn through his skin. ‘I don’t know, it’s all pieces,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t wish to crush anyone, but tell them,’ said Hargreaves as he poked the Professor’s chest with his index finger. ‘Tell them the truth, or I will!’

  ‘I CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING!’ shouted Mark as the paranoia took hold. He paused for a few seconds before continuing ‘If it’s that bad, General, then why do you seem intent on destroying these people? I mean, what’s your incentive, eh, why do you want to disrupt us further, what’s in it for you?’

  The others now looked at Hargreaves with an instant distrust. He quickly combed his silver hair with his hand, a gesture which signalled his discomfort.

  John rose from his squatted position, and adjusted his clothing. ‘General?’

  ‘Don’t you dare turn this on me! I’m looking out for you all,’ answered Hargreaves angrily, his ageing facial skin turning crimson. ‘Without me you won’t stand a chance!’

  ‘Yeah,’ James said as he let out a breath, ‘again, look what happened to Daniel.’

  ‘Okay, enough is enough!’ said John suddenly as he walked between the two bickering experts. ‘Look, we’re all in this together, right? None of us are going anywhere if you two keep arguing.’ He continued to look from one to the other. ‘General, you knew about the invasion. It’s okay, that’s old news. Mark, whatever you know, well, forget it. It’s all about the now, and what the fuck are we going to do about it!’

  The two professionals looked to each other, embarrassed by their childish behaviour. John was right, it was all about the current situation.

  ‘I’m sorry, General, I didn’t mean anything in what I said. We’re all frazzled by this, but you have to understand, I’m no different to the rest of you,’ Mark said with sincerity.

  Hargreaves cleared his throat. ‘Yes, er, I know.’

  Mark scratched his head. He smiled as he knew that the General was not a man to openly apologise, he was too proud for that. He nodded to him anyway, to which a large hand sprung outwards in his direction. The men shook hands firmly – this was the apology, and Mark was more than happy to accept it at this point.

  ‘My God, we’ve been here for all this time,’ said Hargreaves, visibly tired. ‘The world, I wonder what state the world is really in?’ He looked to the floor. ‘Is this it, the end of life… is it over?’

  Mark let his body slide down against the wall. He was just as tired as he dropped his head in his hands.

  ‘I think it is, General – it’s the end of days.’

  The minutes ticked by in silence.

  Hargreaves looked up at the others; he realised that the mood wasn’t good. ‘Listen up. I know that this is an inappropriate time, but there is possibly some good news,’ he whispered as events played over in his mind.

  ‘Good news?’ replied James as he lifted his blue gaze towards the General. ‘What news could you have that would possibly be good?’

  A flicker of hope glowed across Hargreaves’ line-filled face as he dismissed the sarcasm. ‘Think about it. In situations such as these, no matter in what periods of humanity, there have always been groups, resistance. These have carried on the war during the threat of annihilation.’

  ‘Yes, General. As much as I agree with you, this all depends on how many of the population remain,’ said Mark. ‘Don’t forget, the human race has never dealt with a threat such as this, well, except for viruses like the Black Death maybe.’

  ‘Oh, Professor, I’m surprised at your defeatist attitude.’ Hargreaves shook his head. ‘Look at the wars of the past. How many times has a rebellion overcome invasion with limited numbers and less advanced weaponry?’ They all listened intently as the General hit his stride. ‘The Battle of Thermopylae, where the vastly outnumbered allied Greeks held off Xerxes’ Persian army for seven days… seven days!’

  Mark smiled at the history lesson. ‘With all due respect, General, this is different. Xerxes’ army wasn’t as huge as was thought. Don’t get me wrong, it was 150,000 strong at most, but this isn’t a swords and spears war.’

  ‘Professor, you’re missing the point. The point is that they managed to survive the impossible for a short time. Let’s just say that the military never puts all their eggs in one basket, that’s one thing that history has taught us.’


  ‘And remind us all of the outcomes, General?’ interrupted James. ‘The fact that they all lost in the end, died?’

  ‘Enough of the bloody history lessons!’ said John, cutting their flow.

  The two men turned their attention back to one another.

  ‘What are you trying to say, General?’ asked Mark as he narrowed his dark eyes, ignoring John’s comments.

  Hargreaves looked around at the dull walls, cautious as to who – or what – may be listening, before he realised he had said too much.

  Yeah, I understand. Mark gave a nod in Hargreaves’ direction.

  ‘Besides, if the worst comes to the worst we have other weapons that could be used,’ said Hargreaves with a wry smile.

  ‘Brilliant! More hidden weapons,’ said James as he threw his arms up. ‘Let me guess, chemical? Tested on an un-suspecting village somewhere in the Middle East?’

  Mark looked at Hargreaves.

  ‘Don’t be so naïve, Professor. This is why such things are created; we need protection against scenarios such as these we face now. I don’t think the survivors would care too much, so long as the current threat was eliminated, do you?’

  Mark had to concede defeat. He wasn’t in total agreement concerning the military’s potential course of action, but the General was right once again. ‘Okay, so if chemicals work, then what state would the lands be left in? How would humanity survive when it comes to growing food for example, surely the land would be contaminated?’

  ‘I think that the survivors would have more than enough land to cope with,’ said Hargreaves. ‘We need to keep fighting back otherwise the human race will become extinct!’

  ‘Then the only hope is to hide and breed, don’t you think?’

  Hargreaves shook his head. ‘Mark, the longer these invaders are here, the harder it will become to beat them. It won’t be too long before they break down our best weapons; they will deconstruct them, analyse them, destroy them. It’s standard military procedure, you find out the enemy’s weaknesses, which in this case here happens to be us.’

  ‘How can we be the weakness here? I don’t get it,’ said James with a scowl.

  Hargreaves turned to the youngster. ‘Because neither of us wants to be next, let alone the last one left. You wound the mind, get it to think that one can be saved if –’

  ‘If you give them the information they want,’ said Mark, finishing off the General’s sentence. ‘It’s the same as Daniel. They opened that door to show us because they wanted to, not because they had to. After all, by doing it to you, General, it would have been pointless. They know that such threats would be useless against you as you’ve been trained for this type of scenario. They did it for fun.’

  ‘This is my point, Professor, you wound the mind.’

  ‘Oh, I understand, General, I do. But these aren’t 2000-year-old Romans, Greeks or whoever that we are dealing with. This is an invasion, if in fact that is what is happening now. Furthermore, we still don’t know where we are; we are on a ship, yes, but is it one, or one of many? Are we still in the Earth’s atmosphere, or far away from it?

  ‘At the end of the day – and there may not be many of them left – whether they are Roman, Greek or extraterrestrial, it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘How so,’ asked Mark, intrigued.

  ‘Because an enemy is still an enemy. They still have one and the same goals, and those are to occupy, conquer and colonise.’

  The steam from John’s urine rose amongst the haze. The smell had become stronger, as this particular corner of the room was where all of the waste now congregated. He finished and returned to the group. Tom’s head lay on James’ left shoulder, watching as Mark picked at a strange insect that had wandered into view. The General balanced his weight as he squatted against the wall. They all remained in silence. Without warning, the panel began to glow. The exhausted bodies bolted upright, alert as they prepared themselves for what was coming next.

  Tom began trembling as the door shot open. A fearful whine left his thirsty mouth as he focused on the shadows through the mist. Hands clasped each other as two of the aliens entered the room and approached James. The group leapt up and parted, scrambling aside as the shadowy forms moved in a staggered formation before lunging for his static body.

  ‘Get off, get off!’ he screamed, shaking his head sideways in childlike fear. They gripped his ankles, and with a hefty tug he fell to the floor; the metallic crash echoed around the room. ‘Help me!’ A terrifying aggression morphed over their smooth faces, wrinkling them briefly as they began to pull him across the floor. He tried to kick out, but his little strength had no effect on the wiry humanoids.

  Tom fell back to the grating, whimpering as he placed his hands over his ears. He started pounding the sides of his head with his palms, increasing the voracity with each strike. His voice reached a high pitched tone as he shook his head from side to side. Suddenly, his timbre ran into a deep, raucous cry. He climbed to his feet and ran at the beings, clawing at them like an angry beast as he sought to protect the man who had taken care of him.

  He punched and scratched as he tried to loosen the aliens’ grip. The Greys stopped, as though on pause for a few seconds before they turned their attention towards him. He now ceased his actions and began backing up against the wall. Another Grey pierced the haze as it entered the room. It turned and stood guard, warding off the adrenalin-pumped humans who jerked closer as they tried to intervene.

  The creatures released their hold on James. Tom cried as one of the alien’s struck him hard across the face, forcing him to the floor. They now grasped his left ankle and proceeded to drag him across the grating. He could see the silhouettes in the redness as his eyes strained wide. The shadows of the group became smaller – distant – as their cries fell to soft, frightened whispers.

  ‘Tom!’ shouted James as he clutched at the air from his position on the floor.

  Monstrous roars filled the corridor. Tom looked back, his features frozen with fear as he desperately fumbled, scraping at the floor to gain some, any leverage. The noise outside faded within the room as he was pulled through the sliding doorway that closed rapidly.

  ‘Why are they taking him?’ asked James with a panicked expression on his face as he looked to Mark. ‘He doesn’t know anything, he’s of no use to them.’

  ‘Because they can,’ said Hargreaves as he stood bent over with his hands on his knees, exhausted.

  Tom was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

  Chapter 4: Judgement Day – Tom’s Story

  THE black rectangle buzzed on the oak bedside table as a brain-skewering melody played. Tom Valentine didn’t know what was worse: the piercing ringtone that his wife, Connie, had secretly set on his phone, or the seemingly thunderous vibrations that shook him from his deep slumber. He craned his neck, watching as Connie stirred. He desperately wanted to avoid waking her as he knew that she would be grumpy come morning. He flung his right arm in an arc, and gently pushed down on the green telephone icon that flashed spritely in the dark. There was complete silence for several seconds as he hoisted himself upright. Yawning, he ruffled his ear length black hair with his left hand. Flicking the switch on the paisley patterned bedside lamp, he picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Tom? Tom, what the hell are you doing? Have you seen the –’ replied the voice with urgency before being cut mid flow.

  ‘What?’ Tom asked, still half asleep as he strained his dark, sleep-filled eyes on the alarm clock. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Wake up! Tom, it’s me, Vincent.’

  ‘Vincent? What are you doing, it’s –’ Tom looked at the clock as the digits glowed back at him in orange neon. ‘It’s 9:53 p.m. What’s going on?’

  Tom delicately pulled the deep blue duvet up and over Connie’s bare porcelain-skinned shoulders. He smiled drowsily as her shock of curly red hair sprouted out from beneath the cover. He rubbed his eyes and winced as Vincent’s voice boomed out from the tiny speaker.
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  ‘Shhh! Not so loud, you know I’ll cop it tomorrow otherwise,’ said Tom.

  ‘9.53?’ cackled Vincent, ‘that’s a bit early to be in bed, eh?’

  ‘We’ve both got really early starts, so hurry up, I want to get back to sleep.’

  ‘Anyway, forget that mate, you know I love Connie, but are you watching the news?’

  ‘Of course I’m not. Like I said it’s nine, well, 9:55 p.m. now.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever,’ said Vincent in a dismissive tone. ‘PUT ON THE NEWS!’

  Tom looked to Connie once more. With raised eyebrows he slowly and quietly slid out from the left side of the bed, shivering as he tiptoed across the plush aqua-green carpet. A contented sigh left his dry mouth as the soft material massaged the soles of his bare feet. He adjusted his boxer shorts, twisting them around until they were comfy. He crept over towards the television set that sat upon the oak drawers. He carefully picked up the remote control and gently pressed the ON button. He stared at his wife, still with the phone at his ear. The picture seeped onto the 32-inch screen in a series of fuzzy lines, finally settling as he selected the Sky News channel. What greeted his bleary eyes, jolted his system fully awake.

  ‘Oh fuck, what the hell is that!’ he said aloud as he sat hunched on the edge of the bed. He cringed as the bedsprings twanged, watching with a nervous tension as Connie rolled over. ‘Shit!’ He turned back to the TV set.

  There, on screen, was the President of the United States of America. He stood in front of the White House insignia that emblazoned the blue velvet curtains in the press briefing room of the West Wing. The camera flashes dazzled all at this emergency meeting. Every journalist of importance congregated in hushed whispers as they tried to guess why they were there. The President’s tall, slim build danced with slight agitation as he waited for the nod to start. To the top left of the screen was a set of images that were being repeatedly played over.

  Tom sat stunned, wide-eyed as he drank in the video clips that were being sent in from all over the world.