Frankentown

by Aleksandar Vujovic

  It would happen tonight.

  What was the purpose of being sent back?

  So now he has to relive all this time?

  Given the memory, is his life now shorter by those few weeks?

  It was time to take it up with those responsible, and tonight was the night.

  Several blocked freeways and a bunch of blocked streets were in his path to the Oakland docks.

  There was no quick way to get there.

  He didn’t own a helicopter or a jetpack, so he’d have to go on-foot like most others seemed to be.

  The downtown area was littered with people, all riddling with anticipation. Some carried signs and others dressed formally to welcome what had promised to be the festival to beat Woodstock, in one of the most dangerous cities in the states.

  Taking the train to Oakland seemed like the more rational way to get to there instead of mere walking. When he got out, he walked for quite a bit, following the crowd. People carried signs. Some new, painted with hands that said:

  “Welcome to Earth!”

  or

  “PEACE PLEASE”

  That looked old and tattered, probably serving a common purpose back in the whatever mid century decade it protest it came from.

  Even though the ticket system was suspended, and people could just walk in, it took him twenty minutes just to get down to the train.

  When he finally got down, the trains arrived literally one after another. This made for slower travel, as the trains inched in stations like cars do on a four-thirty freeway, but everyone got there, and for free. Nice move from the transit company, whose trains were otherwise just a nasty experience. The seating upholstery was still the original set back from when the trains were made in the mid-to-late last century. Over four decades of history in those seats made for an interesting specimen of bacteria. It was even suggested that some of the bacteria may have been extraterrestrial.

  People in the bay started having various rare diseases, all because they sat down on the Bart train one day and accidentally scratched themselves or inhaled too close to their hand. Literally anything you think of could have been on any of the trains.

  On a less ceremonious occasion, the spit, piss and shit that have commonly decorated the stations were not even an item to note. Pure filth.

  Hundreds of folks of all sizes and shapes filled every available inch of the train, redefining the number of sardines that fit into a can.

  Frank had a lot to do not to go insane and soon regretted ever going onboard. Five warm, strange bodies rubbed up against him, sending him into a panic involuntarily.

  No space. No privacy.

  Over forty minutes worth of panic attack suppression later, the ride of horror was finally over and they arrived in West Oakland. Now he’d just have to swim through the enormous sea of heads, which must have flocked from all over Bay Area.

  The only choice from here on out was walking.

  He would have to will his way through the mob. This involved the sun going down and people inching closer and closer to where the three bright lights stood high above in the sky.

  By the time the sun went completely down,

  Frank found himself facing a giant mosh pit. There were so many people that there was literally nowhere farther to go, and no way to go around.

  He has to get there.

  This was the only thing he was sure of.

  He was taken back in time to do something.

  But what?

  He hunched to tie his untied shoelaces and then started pushing his way through the crowd.

  A multicultural rainbow of curse words, almost all of ‘The World Dictionary of Profanities’ was recited throughout the crowd at random, and all aimed at Frank.

  Just because people were waiting for the aliens to show up didn’t mean they were having any of this. Somebody said “Some guy, pushing through? Hell no.” Another threatened to pull a gun.

  This was the worst of the mosh pits and it didn’t even welcome bodysurfers. A man, in his late 40’s swung an arm at Frank and hit him square in the face. Not pleasant.

  Frank’s vision went blurry for a second as he headed for the ground, only there was no space left for him to fall, so he attempted to keep going, but he leaned on a woman who then fell over and took several people with her.

  This is no time for chit chat∴

  Lack of patience and overabundance of explosions of senses stood him back up on his feet.

  People started moving away from him now.

  He was pulled toward the lights up top and everyone got voluntarily out of his way; willing his surroundings into harmoniously allowing him through. He started feeling nauseous, and at the very same time, more empowered.

  Floating was not an entirely alien feeling to him. This was much like when he flied the pod back on the base, except lighter. And it was just him. As he went up he attempted maintaining a balance while levitating, but kept straining - even though he didn’t have to. It reminded him of what it was like to learn to ride a bike as a kid.

  As he rose higher and higher he looked down at the scene.

  There must have been tens of thousands of people.

  Tall figures descended from the points of light in the sky at right angles. Like arrows, darting towards the stable cement floor of the Oakland Docks. Colors flew everywhere and the crowd roared and wowed with excitement.

  Over the extremely loud crowd afar, Frank could not have heard Al Cohen’s car crashing two miles away on an overhead road, his body smashed into pieces, leaking all over the freeway.

  Three more tall figures appeared in the southmost light.

  The being closer to the north, toward where the crash was, raised its enormous lanky arms and extended its hands up slowly.

  It appeared to be concentrating energy.

  The gray held his hands together and grasped at nothing with its shovel-like hands. Its enormous ancient palms, with knuckles enthrobed in the now-wrinkly alien skin that must have had once been smooth and elastic, exploded with light.

  Its hands, grasped together and pulled in one direction. Simultaneously, the crumpled car and crumbs of Al Cohen lifted off the road and started moving in their general direction.

  Telekinesis wasn’t just moving stuff with your mind. It's was a step beyond that. Frank tapped into the energy, and wielded it with his mind as he knew the beings must have, with his mind and hands.

  Nobody believed they could move mountains.

  So nobody did.

  It took about 13 minutes before all of the wreck travelled over and bled many drops on a good deal of the people below. The crowds were ecstatic, but some of those hit with blood and blood hail started screaming and weeping in the worst terror of their lives. It was a religious experience.

  Judgement day.

  “Thousands of people believe this is a miracle. And while that may be just what it is, it certainly isn’t the way some may have expected it to be.”

  The news reporters were there to filmed the whole bloody mess, shooting closeups of the bloody hail and bits of poor Al. The crowd’s eyes were not on the TV cameras.

  The most bizarre in this apocalyptic theatre was yet to come.

  The four aliens stood side by side. Al's body was slowly reassembling, parts peeling back onto his body, glowing, melting blood hail returning. His death was being reversed; body part at a time.

  To all involved and crowded around the tall beings with arms not unlike spiders in thickness, this was a definite sign of peace. Al came back to life. It was the most disgusting miracle anyone’s seen for an age.

  Reversal of death, which the act couldn’t be interpreted anything else as, was about as peaceful a message as the gray could have sent. Something felt quite awkward about it though.

  Either it was a sign of peace and good intent, or it was so because they did not want to be responsible for the death of anyone in their outing. One way or another, they did not seem to be there to kill or exterminate. Al’s survival was
at the very least their attempt NOT to kill.

  A clueless Al Cohen was coming together and regaining consciousness as quickly as he lost it. He wasn’t exactly aware of what had happened. Last memory he had was that of rolling down the freeway, stupidly fast. All he knew was how beautiful it felt going 90+ with absolutely no traffic around. He almost got into a car accident, but he managed to speed ahead, and something bumped on the road. He was speeding further south without a car in sight, fast and easy as the wind; and body-less.

  When Al’s body was finally put back together, with all his bits back where they belong, one of the alien creatures gestured in Frank’s direction.

  It couldn’t have been at anyone else, unless others have developed the ability of flight.

  Then he blinked and stood outside of his car, parked in the Oakland docks with millions of people standing all around.

  Now was the time to return to their ships, so the four beings displaced themselves vertically towards the points of light in the sky above.

  As they did, Frank went with them almost involuntarily. Perhaps his curiosity would’ve gotten the best of him anyway.

  With them, Frank moved up toward the light, growing as he approached closer and closer into a enormous transparent ball, emitting a brilliant glow of a thousand lightbulbs. Then he merged in, and suddenly, he was inside.

  It took several minutes to be able to adjust to the extreme brightness around, before he could see anything at all. The strangest of all sensations was no sensation at all. It was as though he had been ripped out of time and space, without being able to tell whether he’d left his body on the ground and floated a disembodied soul or whether he was truly flying.

  Frank felt weightless, and weightless he was. His physical shell had transformed into pure energy and he could fly, at will. Then he suddenly felt small, like the head of a sewing pin.

  A tiny driver in a big body. An insignificant little guy.

  Human eyes were not used to such brightness, nor could they adjust to it in any reasonable amount of time, but he saw everything clearly; all the flowing of energy, grainy noise made of light and any colors his eye compensated with.

  Everything had a rhythm, and appeared to glow. Frank started picking up on its pace and could almost start distinguishing his surroundings.

  When his eyes finally adjusted and for the first time he could see, he found himself inside the ship. He got up and discovered he could move around. He stumbled down the hall, to the main room of the giant disc, which was hollow from inside. It was an enormous round hall, maybe a few miles across. When Frank started wondering about the number of rooms, he didn’t have to count. The knowledge came to him from the area. Psychokinesis. There were hundred and fourteen ‘rooms’ and several smaller sub-rooms around its circumference. And each of the rooms contained a gray.

  While Frank stood in awe, all eyes around him watched him intently. Each gray clung to the its rounded wall-chamber from inside, all looking toward Frank, staring him down, observing. Was this a cruise of some kind?

  Frank was really just a dude, nobody in particular; but not a usual guest among these creatures. Never this many at once yet.

  His choices started feeling like they were his own a little less. He felt that it was his choice to come this far. He’d mastered the fear of it all entirely. Every single one of the messengers knew it.

  He didn’t know it, but his body shivered in agony of an overdose of adrenalin going on a heart attack.

  The tallest of the four beings closest to him approached Frank with an adult voice that came from inside Frank’s would-be head. It calmed him.

  What are you doing here?

  Frank was petrified.

  There was no escaping this situation.

  Friends? he hoped.

  The being closest to him was a small gray alien, no bigger than the one he had in his fridge.

  It studied his face and heart for a few seconds, then bowed its head in approval.

  If there was ever a time to ask questions, it would be now∴

  Why did you send me back in time?

  The scrawny alien turned its head and squinted at Frank through its dark gray eyes, square in his face, and he could see his reflection in it. He was a Gray too.

  This made him feel uneasy, and a little too receptive of every single thing around.

  Despite appearing rather shifty, he didn’t feel judged by the being, and more importantly, soon knew the gray weren’t really evil.

  And why would we be?

  How subjective really is evil?

  A product of your own acts?

  Free will?

  We have not seen you before∴ said the gray on his right.

  “Um. Hi.” He said, still shivering.

  “I’m, er, Frank Cabella is my name.” He said as he raised his hand out, ready for the first inter-galactic handshake.

  ”I study squid at the University of Berkeley.”

  It understood what Frank was trying to say, though it didn’t need to.

  It just knew.

  “Why was I sucked into your ship?”

  Came by yourself?

  Frank shook his head.

  Unlike the beings at the base, he could not read its face. Its facial muscles, if it even had any, were all hidden under its soft, perfect skin. Then he realized his presence was a mere anomaly, and will not therefore be ignored for much longer. He will soon be ejected.

  Perhaps he’d have time for at least a single question, so he dared to ask.

  “Where are you from?”

  The being must have thought it unfair to ask and walked away, out back into its chamber.

  Chapter Twentysix

  Cutting Time

  Each of the beings inside the huge disc in the sky had a room of its own along its rim, arched and circular in shape. There were no doors or windows. The Gray didn’t need them; they transcended space and could move to and through any place. This fortress, inside of which Frank found himself standing, was suspended in time, or rather, stuck inside a single moment.

  All the beings here, unlike those at the base bathed in bright light that followed them always and wherever they went. Though the Gray were all alike in appearance, each appeared just different enough from the last; one smooth and smaller in built, the other taller and with rounded features; some evidently much older and taller.

  One was particularly tall, with dry, chapped skin covered in age-old wrinkles, but age is very difficult to determine when said being moves in time the way Frank moved to pubs and liquor stores.

  Three particularly smaller figures also stood by, each carrying a yet smaller one on its shoulder. And yet, Frank felt no threat from these grotesque figures. No fear.

  There was something angelic about them, and there was no question that it was they, who to some were messengers of God, and to some, Gods themselves.

  Some even offered that they may be people from the future.

  Free to move closer, and unsure whether it was of his own will or not, Frank moved further down the path that led around the inner rim, his lanky gray legs bouncing him in a way he was not used to at all.

  A small group of grays stood side by side over a large, rough metallic object.

  They stretched out their lanky arms, making smoothing motions over the shiny radial surface beneath and around them. Under the pressure of their concentrated energy, the rough surface straightened out like still water, and as easily as fabric straightens right out of a tumble dryer.

  This they did by channelling energy from around them through the palms of their hands into the surface, which was the same material as everything else around. Each gray belonged to one of the round ‘rooms’ it found itself inside of, using them as controlling points for manipulating their environment by stretching and twirling their enormous (and creepy) four-fingered hands in fractal patterns.

  These hands were particularly startling, as their middle two fingers were conjoined for the better flow of energy. In this w
ay, they could altogether control everything around them.

  They could command the mountains with telekinetic hand movement.

  They were masters of space and time.

  The middle of the disc was rocky and alive, flourishing like a coral reef, with its very own ecosystem. The very walls and floors were composed of wonderful, soft fauna and fractal curls of fern. It was like a ‘little park’. A piece of contemporary sampling of various species.

  The small animals that moved around started looking familiar in their nautical appearance, until Frank recognized what could have been a cousin to a regular Humboldt squid, flying around the enormous disc in flocks. The biggest difference were their atypical colors, but the creatures had the univeristy's tags still attached.

  By keeping them here in time, they can live forever in this disk∴

  Frank was devoid of any ability to speak, though inspiration was aplenty. He failed to even contemplate his situation, for he believed to have been dreaming. And though he wasn’t entirely wrong, he was actually there, watching and experiencing the beings muse without the need to speak. Frank’s simply hung in space, staring, coming to the realization that he can’t really control the alien’s body.

  But Because he shared a radius with the elder, he could get into the gray’s head, at enough capacity to communicate.

  You’re the guest. Shut up and learn∴

  Without a language, the creatures communicated only in concepts. That is a sort of difficult data to decrunch for the human brain, so it came to Frank in flashes of visual images.

  No misunderstandings.

  The army men are rude∴ The younger of the two beings thought and shared.

  Sometimes I think the species belongs with the rebels and the rogue∴

  With no interest in evaluating the choices of the rebel grays that live bound to Earth, the elder gray stood in silence as he resumed smoothing of the surface of the metal pod, which was made specifically to travel long distances in time.

  To contemplate where they belong was a pretty naïve thing to be thinking.