by Gary Starta
“I should have rid you from my body when I had the chance. Yes, that’s right my little book worm. Mommy wanted to terminate you— but daddy said no. Well, maybe there’s still time.” Petrovsky’s mother then proceeded to chase Mikola the bug around the kitchen table.
“Come here!” she shrieked. “I’ll squash you like a bug.”
Mikola’s six little legs scrambled to hide underneath a couch just before his mother could land her heel on top of his red-colored shell.
James then felt himself being transported to a school room. He was surrounded by boys and girls who appeared to be just a few years younger than himself.
The teacher commanded the class to take out their science projects. Mikola somehow managed to lift up a model of a star ship even though it seemed preposterous that a bug could manage such a feat.
“What’s wrong with my system? How did I get here?” James heard a small voice ask from within his head. “I’ve got to end this program,” Starkman’s artificial brain reasoned.
James continued to struggle with his pillow, but to no avail. The boy’s artificial and natural mind had fused into one to continue his nightmarish experience.
As Mikola the bug went to the front of the classroom to present his project, a propelled object went sailing by his head.
“Petrovsky the dreamer. Petrovsky the fool,” shouted the class in unison. Instead of scolding the children, the teacher went to reprimand Mikola.
“How dare you show up in my classroom as a bug, Mikola? Is this some kind of reference to the special existence you claim to possess? You feel you can’t comprehend us. So you identify with a species that defies understanding?
Well, you’re nothing special. Believe me. I know your father,” the instructor insinuated in a derogative tone.
“So class, it appears Mr. Petrovsky wants to fly to the stars. Well, let’s get him started on his journey.” The teacher then lit a match and Mikola hopped away from the flame.
“You’ll find your desires will burn you one day,” she prophesied as Petrovsky jumped out the school’s second story window.
James saw the bug falling through the sky. However, the sky immediately turned into an engineering schematic board.
Petrovsky was now perched atop the board while his colleagues at the space association looked on. The engineers proceeded to chase Mikola’s bug-shaped body around the board amidst shrieks of laughter. The engineers stabbed at the board with knives and pens in vain as Mikola scurried to evade them.
“You’ve got to eradicate him,” commanded the former chief engineer of star ship design. “I can’t let this pesky upstart bug take my job away from me. You and your wild propulsion formulas are detrimental to my team effort, Petrovsky.”
“We’re all about maintaining the status quo; so fall in line, you pretentious bastard. Don’t you know that once you exceed expectations the pressure’s on to produce more and more?” The mad supervisor then slammed both hands down upon the board propelling its contents into the air.
Mikola the bug once again found himself falling; but this time it was into the hands of James. The boy and bug were back in the lush environment of the garden.
“So you see, we are two of a kind,” Mikola chirped. “Nobody can stand a genius. They’re all out to get us. So watch your back, my friend.”
The bug then hopped out of the boy’s hands and landed on a rock.
“I am nothing like you,” James contended.
At this point in the dream, James artificial brain fought valiantly to shut off the images. However, it was enslaved to process the sights and sounds it could not comprehend. Although the artificial portion of the boy’s brain told him he was still in bed, James found he had no power to terminate the random and bizarre dream sequences which defied the laws of time and space.
James noticed the bug had donned Mikola’s famous red cap. However, he continued arguing his point despite the absurd appearance of his opponent.
“You are single minded. You only want glory. I am about working to benefit society,” James roared.
“Yeah, well take a good look at yourself kid. You are now a slave to society.” Petrovsky then paused to chew on a flower petal.
“You chew and spit up everything you come into contact with, Petrovsky. I ought to punish you.”
“You couldn’t bring yourself to hurt a defenseless bug. I’m sure your loving parents told you we’re all God’s creatures,” Mikola said while raising his antennae. “Well, maybe one day you’ll find out we’re not all God’s creatures, I suppose,” Mikola joked to himself in reference to the boy’s physical form.
“You are not so defenseless. You are just in disguise!”
James then felt compelled to chase Petrovsky. The boy was overcome by a strange sensation he symbolized all that the engineer hated.
James mechanically strode over to where Mikola was perched and swiftly brought his foot down…
The dream ended abruptly. The boy’s processor instructed him that eight hours had elapsed and it was time to get out of bed.
James rubbed his eyes and shouted for his mother who sprinted into his room.
“What’s the matter, dear?”
“I have just experienced some strange audio and visual images. Mom, whatever you do—don’t trust Mikola Petrovsky.”
And without attracting either of the Starkman’s attention, a blue light quickly retracted itself into the “Gallant on Ceres” holo-model.
Chapter 11: Love Thy Neighbor
“Take that you green, slime-filled bastard!” Steven Carlisle yelled at the encroaching holographic creature that invaded his ship’s bridge. Captain Carlisle trained his laser rifle at the worm-like alien who surprised both himself and his Holo-Voyage partner first officer Jon Sanderson. The unidentified visitor had covertly attached itself to their ship’s hull shortly after the fictitious crew finished a survey mission of the planet Zyrdas. The alien then proceeded to penetrate the ship’s exterior by disassembling and reassembling its molecular structure.
“If this creature was able to penetrate our hull, I’m sure it’s probably smarter than we are,” Steven shouted to his first officer. However, Jon Sanderson would never admit to being inferior to any being or thing. “It only appears intelligent because you have not properly diagnosed its makeup. I can see by its clandestine attack it possesses no more brains than a snake or prairie wolf.”
“I suggest we complete our analysis after we subdue this thing,” Carlisle commanded. “Make sure your rifle emits no more power than a static shock, I don’t want to blow our ship apart if we miss it.”
“I say we blow this thing to smithereens. It came after us, don’t forget,” Sanderson complained. The first officer then fired a shot at the creature but missed. The slithering intruder alluded the weapon fire by becoming invisible for a brief instant before reappearing on the opposite side of the ship’s bridge.
“Let’s try to evacuate the bridge and shut off life support,” Carlisle ordered.
“If this creature can breathe in outer space, cutting off our oxygen supply will only result in our demise,” Sanderson yelled while keeping his weapon’s sight fixed on the creature.
Linda Dougherty then appeared on the bridge unannounced to Carlisle or Sanderson.
“Why did you enter our holo game?” Carlisle cried.
“I was watching its broadcast on my data net and thought you two could use a hand.” Linda stepped in between the armed gamesmen and their prey without asking.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Sanderson demanded.
“I am attempting to find out what it wants. It obviously came here for a logical reason. It may need to eat or your crew may have inadvertently disturbed its nest.”
Linda crouched down and kept held our her hands with her palms facing up to show the creature she meant no harm.
The intruder nodded its snake-shaped head to its left and right at what appeared to be empty space. In a moment, three other creatures be
came visible on the bridge.
“Great! You’ve invited more of them to dance over our dead bodies,” Sanderson lamented while maintaining a tighter grip on his rifle.
“Lower your weapons, gentlemen!” Linda ordered.
“On whose authority? This is our game and we are the commanders of this ship,” Carlisle stated defiantly.
“Okay, on the orders of the Zyrdas ambassador then. You have just contacted the first Zyrdan life form. Is your mission one of hate, or peace, commander?” Linda submitted to Steven. The three shipmates fought to suppress smiles as they realized they were arguing amongst holographic characters in a simulated space vessel.
As Steven and Linda continued to address each other, one of the creatures seized the opportunity to jump onto a sealed container located in the middle of the bridge.
“Don’t fire, Jon!” Linda shouted.
“I won’t. There is only Zyrdan soil samples in the barrel,” Sanderson explained.
Linda gingerly stepped closer to the barrel with her arms hanging limp against her sides. “Computer, please prepare environmental controls to compensate for the release of the barrel’s contents.”
The creature instinctively backed away allowing Dougherty to place her hands on the barrel. She slowly began to unscrew the container’s lid as the other uninvited passengers anxiously looked on.
As soon as Linda raised the lid from the barrel, another creature popped out.
“It looks like you guys inadvertently trapped one of its family members in your barrel,” Linda surmised.
“I guess our ship scooped up some soil without detecting the alien,” Carlisle stated sheepishly.
“Captain, you have nothing to be ashamed of. It’s the creature’s fault for hiding in the sand,” Sanderson contended.
“The sand is possibly the creature’s natural habitat, Jon,” Linda shot back. “Would you want someone to scoop you out of your bed at night?”
“Well, all’s well that ends well,” Jon commented to evade answering Linda’s question.
“I guess the alien was pretty smart to stay invisible during our mining efforts,” Steven pondered. If our ship had detected the creature during our soil analysis, the vessel’s AI probably would have automatically fired upon it.”
The holo game then came to its conclusion after the ship safely transported all the creatures back to their planet.
As the three shipmates exited the holo game, Steven asked Linda why she suddenly took interest in his sci fi adventure.
“Steven, you may find this hard to believe; but I don’t see all your films and games as mere fiction. This game you play could possibly bring up some very real scenarios if we do come into contact with alien life. And when we do discover that life, I don’t want our welcoming committee to consist of laser guns and atomic bombs.” Linda then shot a venomous glance at Dr. Sanderson who quickly fixed his glance upon the floor.
“Linda, I just want to tell you that you would probably make a very good captain. I mean coming from one captain to another,” Steven joked. “Here take my Holo-Voyage command shield, you’ve earned it for today.”
“Gentlemen, don’t forget I am acting captain of this ship while Matt is in stasis. I know you may not feel my naming contests and play presentations are worthy of a captain’s duties; but I see these activities as a prelude to the kind of diplomatic customs I want to encourage on our new home.”
The three crew mates proceeded to program the ship’s holographic rec room to resemble a popular Earth pub called No Place Like Home. Linda ordered the first round of drinks as Steven and Jon claimed an empty table in the bar’s corner.
The threesome quietly reflected on the events of the holo game until a waitress served them their beverages. Steven then broke the silence. “I wonder what our scientist friends are up to on Ceres?” Carlisle took a long sip of his draft beer without expecting an answer to his query.
“Oh, they’re probably scooping up soil samples filled with alien life,” Jon facetiously suggested.
“Actually, I hope they’re okay. They don’t have AI cameras monitoring their every move like we do. I kind of feel guilty that we’ve been so protected by our ship while they’re hard at work creating our new home,” Steven admitted.
“Well, that won’t be for too much longer, Steven,” Linda pointed out. “We’ll be expected to ready the planet’s settlement for further colonization as soon as we get there. I expect we haven’t heard much from the scientists because they’re so hard at work cultivating crops and building housing. So I hope everybody is well rested for some good old-fashioned hard work.”
“I know I am, guys.” Jon explained that he never felt so energized in his life. “Cryo-stasis does wonders for your body and soul. I just hope people will still want plastic surgery on Ceres after experiencing it.”
“Expect the unexpected, gentlemen.” Linda paused to take a sip of her strawberry daiquiri. “We’ve all sacrificed years of our lives in space travel to usher in a new era for humanity. I hope we will be able to overcome all of our pre-conceived ideas of what we each think life should be like on our new home. We must tread cautiously on our new soil because our preconceptions may retard the growth of a brand new culture. “We’re not colonizing to represent our home world despite what some politicians will have you think. I don’t want Ceres to represent conquest. I personally want to become part of a new community that learns how to shed all our petty Earth concerns.” “Let’s toast to that,” Steven suggested raising his glass.
“Well, all I know is that I’ll have to shed my petty interest in baseball. I somehow have a feeling it won’t become the national past time on Ceres,” Jon lamented.
“Baseball is just a sport, my friend,” Steven exclaimed. “We’re pioneers of the new frontier!”
After finishing another round of drinks, the crew mates exited the rec room to get some sleep before facing their new frontier.
Both Steven and Jon engaged in love making with their wives before falling asleep. The amorous acts were probably due to stimulation of hormones from the alcohol and fictitious holo adventures.
However, Linda settled quietly onto her bed in pensive thought. Dougherty soon experienced a strange premonition that she would be making a very important command decision. She closed her eyes, trying to forget that the ship’s visual AI system was monitoring her rest.
Chapter 12: Killer Looks
In took just two days for Dana Jackson’s demeanor to go from distraught to jubilant. Much like the way her new turbo sport air coach quickly accelerated in zero to 60 seconds, the ex-wife of the missing space tech Phil Jackson expeditiously turned her despair into ecstasy. The key ingredient in this change of mood was the one thing she still held dear in life—money.
Dana had been crestfallen when she found her private detective had been killed. Truth be told, Mrs. Jackson wasn’t really broken up over Don Volpicelli’s death. However, she was angry that she had come no closer to finding out what happened to her ex-husband. Dana could not sue for alimony until Phil and his alleged girlfriend were located. She also could not file to collect on Phil’s life insurance policy until his body was identified. Thanks to a front page video article by National News Network reporter Kay Jennings, a third option to accrue wealth had been created.
After Jennings ate, talked and slept with Renee Mercer, the world renowned journalist went to town on the Virginia murder cases. NNN devoted its entire Saturday broadcast to Jenning’s theories on the deaths of the two association space techs, the disappearance of Phil Jackson and the accident-assisted demise of PI Volpicelli. Jennings credited an unnamed inside source of the space association for her revelations.
The commitment by NNN to speculate that the deaths were all crimes of passion set the precedent for how other tabloid-based news agencies would cover the murders of the century. News agencies, telezines and Internet broadcasters all scrambled to fill prime time news space in the quickest manner possible—even if meant dispensing wi
th fact checking.
Dana Jackson had Jennings and a gossip starved public to thank for the new air coach she was riding in. Programming the coach for automatic navigation, Dana fed a recording of her world famous Everyday Dirt interview into the vehicle’s video system. Recorded just 12 hours earlier, the Everyday Dirt appearance scored Jackson one hundred million dollars and the new vehicle she was riding in. Several prime time broadcast magazines had aggressively competed for the initial interview with Jackson. True to her nature, Dana signed with the highest bidder—Town Crier Enterprises which produced the program, Everyday Dirt. Town Crier had been one of the first media giants to coordinate the search for space worthy civilians and fund a huge chunk of the robotic research required to build Terran’s Ark.
The media conglomerate entitled the interview: “Why men can’t live without Dana.” Dressed in a low cut blouse and a micro skirt, Jackson was portrayed as a sex-starved housewife. Cameras panned her buttocks and breasts as she described how her marriage with Phil fell apart. A provocative picture of Dana in a turquoise bikini was then flashed on the screen with a tag line: “What man wouldn’t murder for this?” The swimsuit photo turned out to be entirely computer generated just like the backdrop of Jackson’s home.
Everyday Dirt broadcast journalist Latasha Hoyt suggested all references to Dana’s money problems be edited from the program. “We need to see Jackson surrounded by lavish furniture. That’s how the public will believe men fought to the death over her.” Hoyt also was beyond reproach when it came to embellishing Dana’s story. Shortly before the live broadcast aired, Latasha pressured Dana to convince the viewers that Bob Schmitt and Chuck Paterson were both “serviced” by her. “Those are the kind of details Everyday Dirt provides for its public in its quest to remain the ratings leader in provocative entertainment,” Hoyt confided to her apprehensive subject.