Saving Earth

For James

 

Prologue

Roswell, NM. July 8, 1947

 

Twenty minutes too late! Can you imagine? The entire area where the spacecraft crashed has been cordoned off. It's like a scene from a late 1930s science fiction movie! Bright lights, cops, military, journalists, suspicious looking men in black suits, suspense. This could have been the greatest story ever told. If only I got a hold of the rancher. But Mac Brazel was nowhere to be found...

 

Moon Base Luna Alpha One.

Mission Commander. Personal logbook. June 29, 2378 (Ancestral Time System).

I am a third generation scientist here on the Moon. There are twenty five thousand of us. We are the only humans in the entire universe, although our ancestors would probably call us "trans-human".

Here on the Moon we outlived the humanity which was obliterated in three consecutive atomic wars in the 2020s.

We can see the earthrise, but the Earth we see is not the blue-green planet our grandparents watched rising when they first came here in the year 2018. The planet we see is a dead, scorched, inhabitable sphere that resembles Mars rather than the image I remember seeing on my father's personal computer.

 

As a child I always wondered what life must have been like on Earth. I visited the Gaia Park as often as I could, but I was never sure that the holographic images we created at the touch of a button were what the Earth was really like before the destruction. You could immerse yourself in any landscape with all its scents and sounds, temperature and precipitation for the most authentic earth experience. And yet, I was never fully satisfied. I always wanted more.

This is why I decided to develop the time travel technology. I wanted to go back to the world my grandparents loved so much.

Like every child at Luna Alpha One I studied the old masters. They had so many interesting concepts, but they seemed to never agree on anything. Out of hubris they would dismiss the truth in order to uphold their own faulty theories. Can you imagine that they would kill those who disagreed with them? And yet, not even one of them ever came close to the Truth. At their evolutionary level none of them would comprehend it anyway.

 

Discord seemed to permeate all aspects of human existence. They were so rich and yet, so poor. Maybe it was their fear of dying that made them so hostile, so belligerent, so hateful.

I remember reading my grandmother's diary. Since the young age she was terrified of getting old. In the 1990s she studied human genetics and the orthomolecular medicine. She hoped to discover the Fountain of Youth. She made some progress when she stumbled upon the telomerase research. With this knowledge she was able to considerably slow down the aging process, but was not fully satisfied. The real breakthrough came when she met my grandfather. They combined her research with his progressive nano-technology. Together they were able to extend the lifespan of existing humans to 140 years, but the embryos they created were immortal. 

 

We are the new humans. We grow older, but we do not really age. Senescence is unknown to us. And we do not die. Those who wish may withdraw from life and enter the state of Permanent Awe, but most of us prefer to remain active for hundreds of years. There is simply too much to do in this vast universe.

We can synthesize our own nutrition accordingly to our individual needs and are able to monitor our somatic processes. Nano robots are mobilized to repair any damage to a tissue or an organ, and we can upload the latest longevity software into our mitochondria.

We live in our trans-human paradise and no one even thinks of changing the way we coexist. We do not use money and consider material possessions meaningless.

The only wealth we care about is our knowledge. Although any of us can upload any information to our brains, the real wealth comes from our ability to use that data. Unlike our human ancestors we use our knowledge to create, not to destroy.

 
It is difficult to imagine that most of them believed they were alone in the universe. Those who considered that there was life in the outer space believed that contact was impossible with the technology they possessed. What they did not understand was that it was their mindset and not the lack of technology that prevented them from making a connection with what they called non-human entities. 

 

I look out and see Earth. It must have been such a lovely planet once. Pity, really. But maybe not all is lost. If my mission is successful we may be able to turn things around and prevent the disaster that destroyed all life there. 

 

Our space-time ship is equipped with a state of the art technology. We have transformed my husband's Vega 123 vehicle. Jim designed it for our honeymoon in outer space. He even received a Moebius Prize for her! An unbelievably clever trick and a state-of-the-art technology prevents molecular disintegration upon the entry into a black hole. We named her Gaia 1, of course, and I cannot wait to board it. 

 

We plan to land on Earth at a place called Los Alamos/35°53′28″N 106°17′52″W moments before the first atomic test on July 16, 1945. I studied the Manhattan Project materials. Some interesting stuff. Clever minds at work. But no one there seemed to understand that there were so many other uses for the nuclear power. 

 

If I could only persuade all those involved to abandon the thoughts of destruction we could alter the flow of events on Earth...

Epilogue

 

Moon Base Luna Alpha One. Mission Control Center. Newsroom. July 7, 2378 (Ancestral Time System).

Something went horribly wrong! The last message that came from Gaia 1 indicated a serious change in space-time coordinates. The craft seemed to have crashed at Roswell/33°23′14″N 104°31′41″W/July 7/1947. Connection was lost after impact. We suspect that the blast at Los Alamos altered Gaia's landing coordinates. A rescue mission is being considered by the Council. Our hearts and minds are with the brave crew. 

 

By Dominique Allmon

Dominique Allmon©2023

 

The Curious Case of Young Mr. Tee

They say that you see your entire life passing by before your mind's eye the moment you die, but this was definitely not the case with the young Mr. Tee. 

One year has passed and I am still horrified to look back to that ominous All Hallows' Eve dinner in upper Manhattan. None of us has ever mentioned what happened that evening and we quickly went back to our busy lives avoiding each other as much as we possibly could. But time heals all the horrors and you eventually have to move on, or so they say.

We were a really crazy bunch. Freshly out of Harvard, four of us moved to New York to make big money and live the high life one could only see in Hollywood movies. In the 1980s they would have called us "yuppies," but we were much more sophisticated. We ate less sushi, listened to better music, traveled more, collected better art, and with legends like the Lehman Brothers gone, we were less arrogant and understood the value of money better than anyone before us.

Mr. Tee, as we called Twardowski, was a very clever guy with enormous energy and incredible talent. He made his name on the trading floor very quickly and established his own firm less than six month after graduating summa cum laude. We all knew that he would succeed, but his stardom came somewhat too quickly and there was a lot of gossip.

See, Mr. Tee sold his soul to the devil. No, really. I mean, really. He was not only the most talented of the four of us, he was very greedy and probably the most ambitious. He wanted things to happen fast and did not care how.

One morning a few years ago, the story goes, he looked in the mirror and summoned the devil. Just like in a cheap off Broadway production, the bathroom darkened and amid a hellish swishing and dust swirls, the devil showed up and introduced himself: "You called me and here I am, Master. How can I be of help?"

I would have lost my cool in a wink of an eye, but not Mr. Tee. Oh, no! He was too determined to get rich very quickly and told the devil half jokingly that he needed his help. The devil smiled deceptively and suggested, that Mr. Tee already had a lot of money and with talent such as his he did not need any supernatural help. All that was true, but Mr. Tee wanted some special powers and agreed to a deal that looked like a bargain: He would become the most successful finance expert ever and everything he touched would turn into big money. All he had to do was to agree that the devil took his soul when time was ripe.

The deal was good. Money, fame, power, freedom! What else could one ask for? And all the devil wanted was his tiny soul. Tee wasn't even sure that he had one.

Mr. Tee saw no problem here, but clever as he was, he inserted a clause into the contract. "OK, OK! You can have my soul when we meet in Rome, or no deal at all. And you will have it in writing." Scratching his head the devil had no choice, but to accept and put his seal on the parchment.

As months went by, everybody wondered about Mr. Tee's fortune. He was one of the very few people who made big money and never lost a penny amid deep financial crisis that span across the globe. Everything he touched turned into gold. He was the modern alchemist par excellence.

People were jealous, of course, and there was even an investigation, but since there was no sign of any wrongdoing, Mr. Tee was exonerated. Those, however, who accused him of dark machinations went out of business as quickly as they pointed their fingers at our friend. Everybody wondered. Nobody said another word.

To celebrate his success, we decided to have a dinner together. Like in old times. Our friendship was as strong as ever and we missed our nightly escapades. Maybe because the three of us simply had to work a bit harder to keep up with the pace dictated by Mr. Tee. I was getting older and had very little energy left for Tee's noisy parties. I preferred to go to bed alone than end up drinking too much champagne after a tough day. I became a bore, he said to me one day, and both of us wondered what happened to that carefree cheerleader that I once was. Life caught up with me, I guessed correctly.

To repair the damage in my reputation I booked a table for a Halloween dinner in a very famous Italian restaurant. Their Halloween menu was spectacular with black colored pasta and other creepy things. They also scheduled a spooky horror show for that night and invited a prominent magician. The guests were to dress up in Halloween costumes. This sounded like real fun.

We decided to meet for a before dinner drink in the upscale Death & Company bar. Mr. Tee arrived dressed up as a 16th century Polish nobleman. He said something about his family history, but I did not pay much attention to it. I had a tough day and after my second Sweet Hereafter cocktail I felt that freshly made squid ink pasta was exactly what I needed if I wanted to keep my witch's hat on my head for the rest of the evening.  Someone paid for the drinks while I held on to my broomstick and hailed a cab. A smiling Jamaican driver with a diamond in his tooth pulled over. "You look cool, maaan" he said, and as soon as we all settled comfortably in his cab, he drove off with a hellish squeak.

The place looked great! Decorations were spooky and everybody, including the patron and the waiters, wore a Halloween costume. Our Extremely Bloody Mary apéritifs arrived promptly together with the almost black Beluga caviar canapés.

Before we could even say a word about the menu or the ambience, a character dressed up like a devil, horns and all, appeared at our table and introduced himself to Mr. Tee as "his faithful servant." I did not know that Tee had a servant. He always looked like someone who could manage everything by himself, but I figured that Tee's fortune and newly acquired social standing demanded some decorum. That sinister guy was probably his butler, or so, I thought.

Mr. Tee invited his servant to take a seat and offered him a drink. I got chills when that creepy guy with eyes like glowing coals refused the drink and went straight to business: "I came here for your soul Master Tee," he said. We started laughing. What a great entertainer! My tiredness disappeared and I truly started enjoying that evening. Tee stretched his arm majestically as if to brush off a speck of dust and, laughing loudly, told the man to get lost. It wasn't his time to go, he said. But the man in a devil costume became very serious and produced a piece of paper that looked like a parchment with an ancient looking seal affixed to it. Spreading the paper on the table he pointed his skinny finger at a passage in the text. "Here it is, my dear Master! I will come for your soul when you go to Rome!"

We burst out laughing. This was better than anything I have seen before. Mr. Tee raised his hand and spoke like a Polish noble: "My dear Mr. Devil, I understand your urgency, but we are here, in Manhattan. Look around and tell me what you see." The man looked around and laughed. "Your time is up, my dear Master. You might be in Manhattan, but this fine establishment is called 'Bella Roma' or Beautiful Rome, if you prefer. You are in Rome, Master! Your soul is mine and I came here to collect it!" Before anyone of us could utter a word, the devil character snatched Mr. Tee and carried him away leaving behind Tee's ancient feathered hat and a burning smell of sulfur. I recall hearing a laud scream. They were arguing, I think, but all that noise seemed to have come from very far away.

No one in the restaurant have noticed what transpired only an instant earlier. The music was a bit too laud, people laughed or chattered wildly, waiters were busy, and the spooky magic show was about to begin.

For a minute or two the three of us still thought that we had just witnessed one of Tee's extravagant spectacles, but when he did not come back to enjoy the rest of our Halloween dinner party, we became a bit worried. Only a bit. After a very short deliberation we decided to finish the meal without our Mr. Tee and even managed to enjoy the show. It was such a fun to be together again. We agreed to call Mr. Tee in the morning and arranged to meet for lunch. We deserved some explanation, Halloween or not.

I got back to my condo, but could not wait till the morning. I called Tee right away. There was no answer. There was no answer in the morning either. He did not show up in his office, missed his meetings, and left his business affairs unattended. This was highly unusual. Someone had to notify the police.

Weeks have passed, but there was no demand for ransom. And there was no body. Nothing. Not a trace! The investigating officer, Inspector O'Sullivan, told me later that they found a journal of sorts in Tee's bedroom. On one page covered with occult symbols Mr. Tee wrote about his meeting with the devil and his skepticism about the existence of human soul. The opposite page was adorned with a darkly beautiful drawing of a horned man who looked just like the guy that appeared in "Bella Roma." At the bottom of the page Tee wrote: "I tricked the devil today. If I have a soul, it will be mine forever since I do not intend to travel to Rome. Ever!"

Who knew that a dinner in a trendy Italian restaurant in upper Manhattan would mean Mr. Tee's tragic  unmaking...

~ Wishing everybody a very spooky Halloween ~ Dominique

Dominique Allmon©2016

Out of the X-Files

For James

 

Sheriff Jones was nervously chewing on his pencil. He took another look at the crime scene photos and put them back into a cold case folder. He could not believe his very eyes. 

He reclined in his armchair and closed his eyes. It was getting late and Linda was waiting home with her special Friday dinner. 

Things were supposed to be different here and they were until last week, that is, when two mutilated corpses were found in his county on the side of a small back road. The bodies were covered with markings that looked like the crop circles from the last year's issue of the Roswell UFO Museum's Bulletin which he still received on each anniversary of the famous UFO crash.

As if this were not enough, the local news station aired a late night interview with five UFO abductees who seemed to have popped up like mushrooms after the rain as soon as the local paper run a story about the gruesome discovery.

Yes, things were supposed to be better here. Maybe they really were better, but right now he wasn't sure anymore. He took a sip of his Raven's Brew coffee and called his wife. She wasn't mad. Not anymore. She would bring him his dinner over to his office if that was OK with him. He could concentrate on his job while she could go to play bridge with her new friends.

They moved here from Roswell, NM about three years ago when his wife inherited a bookstore from her mother. And believe me, they were ready for a change. Roswell became uninhabitable. The crime rate quadrupled every six months or so and he did not feel like he wanted to lose his life in a gang fight. Besides, Linda's UFO bookstore went bankrupt short before they decided to move away. Who wold have thought? Of all places, Roswell was dying like a tree that was rotting from inside out.

Now that he looked back he could not recall a single mutilated human corpse or a single UFO abductee during his twenty years in Chaves County. Some ranchers found mutilated cow carcasses, but this crime could safely be blamed on the coyotes. The bodies that were found there on a side of the road usually had a bullet hole in them, and the only markings on them were the badly done tattoos. If aliens ever arrived in Roswell it was a long time ago and they must have forgotten about that place as soon as they crashed. 

But here in Pennsylvania? UFO? And yet, the corpses did not look like anything he had ever seen. Worse even, three old unsolved murder cases indicated that this has happened here before. Two locals and one Jane Doe. The cases were never solved. There was not enough evidence to prove anything. 

* 

He needed to see the crime scene photos again. Something was not quite right. The bodies were missing most of their vital organs. In his opinion, there was nothing "alien" about this crime. Everything indicated that someone meticulously planned to deceive. They captured these people and harvested their organs in order to sell them on the black market. Any surviving victims would be dismissed as wackos. But behind the "hoax" was a horrendous crime that looked more like something he remembered from his honeymoon trip to Rio de Janeiro years ago than an alien abduction. Back then tourists were warned not to visit the beaches after dark. There were many kidnappings and the unfortunate victims, if they survived at all, woke up on the beach with a missing kidney. 

He interviewed every single person who believed to be a victim of alien abduction in the area. All the abductees reported that they were driving late at night and were stopped on a small land road by an incredibly bright and blinding light. They were unable to see anything at all, but all of them heard a strange sound. Then the car door opened and someone or something grabbed them out of their vehicle and carried them over to a spacecraft. They all remembered being stripped naked by someone and then, placed face down on an ice cold surface. The last thing they could recall was an incredible pain they experienced somewhere in their bodies, but were unable to determine where exactly the pain was coming from. When they woke up they were lying in a ditch next to their own cars, naked, cold and full of unbearable pain. The worse thing was that no one has taken them seriously when they reported what had happened to them.

Sheriff Jones found out that all the alleged victims of alien abduction had some health issues. One was a diabetic, two others recently recovered from cancer, one was diagnosed with prostate cancer, and one was a chain smoking alcoholic. They definitely were unfit organ donors. No wonder they were damped back on the side of the road. But why were they left alive? Was it to mislead any investigation? 

Yes! This was it. Stories of alien abductions and the mutilated corpses were like something out of the X-Files. Who would ever believe anything like that? Without sufficient evidence the case would be closed and whoever was doing this would move out of this area to harvest organs somewhere else. Such a cleverly devised plan! He had to contact Bob on Monday. 

Bob was his buddy from the time they both served on the USS Saratoga off the north coast of Vietnam. When the war ended they both retired from the US Marine Corps. Bob landed a job with the FBI, while Sheriff Jones tried his luck in California politics before moving into law enforcement about twenty years ago. 

Bob helped him solve drug-cartels' related cases back in New Mexico. He could lend him a hand one more time. If there were more cases like that in other parts of Pennsylvania or maybe even in other states, they would be able to catch the criminals before more harm is done. There must be a market for criminally obtained human organs, but without any help form Bob he alone could only tap in the dark.

*

It was getting late. Petrovsky, his young deputy, came in to report for the night duty. Everything seemed very quiet. There was only one minor accident on the Lincoln Highway, but that has been taken care of. Sheriff Jones could finally go home and get some sleep.

If it weren't so late he would have taken the scenic drive, but since it was already past 10 p.m. and he decided to take the short cut through the Twin Lakes Park. He turned on the radio. Randy Newman Twas singing his favorite song. He had to laugh. Randy Newman was responsible for the names of his two dogs. "Mr Short" was a Husky he got from a breeder in Roswell. "People" was a Jack Russell puppy that came from the shelter. Linda drove all the way to Philly to get this little guy.

Whistling happily on his way home Sheriff Jones almost forgot about the violent crimes he was supposed to solve when he suddenly saw an incredibly bright light and, unable to see anything before him, was forced to stop his car. "What the hell?!"

Before he even realized what was going on, two strong metal-clad arms dragged him out of his car. The blow to his head came the very moment he had his hand on the gun. Everything went dark. Somewhere far away he could still hear Randy Newman hitting the keys. Then nothing.

*

Hours if not days must have past since that unfortunate moment in the Twin Lakes Park. He opened his eyes and began screaming. It was cold and he could not see anything. The pain was unbearable. The bright light and voices around him almost drove him crazy. Someone touched his forehead. "Be quiet, Sheriff Jones" a woman's voice said. "All is well now, all is well. They found you in a ditch, but you are gonna be all right." 

The next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his arm. Someone has given him an injection. What was this place? Where was Linda? But before he could say anything the world melted away, again...

By Dominique Allmon

Dominique Allmon©2013

A Lesson on Patience

Our lives are made up of ordinary moments. 

When we slow down and give them meaning 

they become extraordinary. - Dominique Allmon

Here is a touching story written by a New York taxi driver. Or so I was told.

Traveler's Tales

For James

 

We were told that our flight would be delayed for another hour. As we sat there I watched my fellow travelers who gathered at the gate. Some were quite angry, others seemed to have given up completely. We were stranded and there was nothing much we could do.

First, it was the engine, then the weather. I wondered what the excuse would be an hour from now. But at this point it did not matter anymore. I would never be able to make my connection in DC. So why get mad? 

I opened my book and begun reading when a guy sitting next to me woke up. He must have been very tired. Or sick. To be true, he looked like crap and you couldn't even tell how old he was. He must have been in an accident or something. Bruises everywhere.

"Traveler's Tales" - he read the title aloud and asked me if the book was any good. I just started reading it and had not yet formed any opinion about it. It was an anthology of some obscure stories told by people who traveled to strange places. I love traveling, but I am not brave enough to hitch hike in Yemen or Cambodia. Besides, I was always curious to find out what motivated people to chose a thousands' stars "hotel" over a warm bath and a king size bed at the Ritz. 

He looked at me with his blood shot eyes and said that he used to love adventures, but his current experience changed him forever. It would be a while before he leaves the country again. I could empathize. I never forgot the nightmare of arriving in Turkey without my luggage...

I wanted to go back to my reading, but he asked me if I wanted to hear a real traveler's story. I hesitated. Oh, actually why not, I thought, and let him tell me his tale. 

He was a student from Berkley, CA. When the Arab Spring begun last year he decided to go to Somalia and help the protesters organize against those in power, just like his father did in California when they protested against the Vietnam war in the 60s. 

Oh my God! - I thought, but let him go on. He joined the Marxist outfit "United We Stand" and just like his father was ashamed of America and regarded himself as a proud citizen of the world. He despised the military, hated the rich, and wanted to abolish the Republican party. He hated the American way of life and hoped that the change would come as promised by the president. A new era of social justice and equality. A real new world order!

I was quite appalled at what I heard and wanted to confront him. I knew that not all was right in the country, but most Americans could really be proud of being American. But before I could say a word, he continued. 

Short after his arrival in Mogadishu he was snatched from the street by some masked men. He was beaten up and thrown into a dark cave-like cell. The stench was unbearable. 

There were two other Americans in the cell and they had the same story to tell. One of them was businessman from Ohio. He could speak some Arabic. His mother was a second generation Lebanese who married his Irish father. Somalia was supposed to be a paradise. But before he could even meet his business partners, he was snatched from the street. Just around the corner from his hotel! 

The other guy was a Boston doctor who joined the Doctors Without Borders organization. He made great money as a plastic surgeon in a private clinic, but decided that his life had no meaning. He was disgusted by the vanity of Boston socialites who were unhappy with their noses or droopy eyelids. He wanted to follow two friends who came here last year, but just like the other man, he was snatched from the street before he could even meet the others. 

What followed was a story of pain and fear. The cell was dark and dirty. There was no toilet and they had to sleep on a cold, dirty floor. They were hardly given any food. And all of them were tortured. 

Their captors would vanish for days and return only to abuse them even more. One day, however, each of them was taken upstairs, given a copy of a Herald Tribune to hold in front of the chest. They were told that they would be free if the ransom was paid. Each of them was put in front of a video camera and had to read a text. Name, nationality, and a plea for a quick payment. They also had to read out what would happen to them if money wasn't paid on time.

This was a story you usually read about in the papers. But here, next to me, was a man who actually went through an unimaginable hell. 

He took a sip of water and continued. Two days later his cell mates were released and he never saw them again. It must have been a week when he saw his captors again. He was beaten again and thrown back to another cell. In the darkness he made out a silhouette of a Chinese man sitting in the corner. That man spent almost a month in captivity and gave up any hope of returning to his family. He was expandable. Besides, no one knew where he was...

An announcement was made at the gate. Our airplane was in approach. Everyone was relieved! The boarding would begin within the next forty five minutes or so. 

There wasn't much time left and I wanted to call home, but the young man resumed his story. His captors told him that the American Consulate could not do anything for him because they claimed he wasn't an American citizen. But if ransom wasn't paid, he would have to pay with his life for this "insult". 

This was more than horrible. He was Robert C. Johnson of Berkley, California. His parents could confirm his identity at any time. The Consulate must have been able to access some record of his existence. His passport was issued only weeks before he came to Somalia. But instead, they claimed that no one, not even his parents ever heard of him. He should stop pretending that he was an American citizen.

Never before in his entire life he would insist on being an American, but there, in that hopeless black hole things looked much different. If only someone could confirm his citizenship, he would be free. He not only felt like a character copied from Kafka, he felt like Doctor Faustus! When he was a freshman, he seriously considered giving up his nationality, so insisting that he was indeed an American felt like selling his soul to the devil.

As days went on, he gave up his hope just like that Chinese man in the corner, although in his delirium he would sometimes imagine a US Marine squad raiding the compound and liberating him from the fangs of these savages. But to be true, on most days he thought of ending his own life. And yet, here he was. Free and grateful. On his way back to the United States. Proudly holding his American passport. Never happier to return home. To freedom.

"So, what happened? How did you get out?" I asked. "Oh. That's another long story," he said.

By Dominique Allmon

Traveler's Tales by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

I Hid the Body... Now What?

For James

 

It was a dark, gloomy February evening. I was bored. The party was canceled, my husband was away for the weekend and there was nothing on TV that I wanted to watch. I called everyone I knew, but my friends were either lazy or busy or just as bored as I was.

I ordered pizza. The guy who delivered my order looked like someone who tortured small animals. Maybe he jumped in for someone because I could not imagine that Giovanni's Fine Italian restaurant would hire someone like that. You expected a shady mafia type guy to arrive at your door. This was to add some spice to your pizza experience, not disgust.

I shut the door as quickly as I could. The pizza was too large for two, but I decided to eat it all by myself. Candles, Merlot, and Miles Davis. Nice!

And yet, Friday evening all alone was not my idea of fun...

I remembered a joke that was making rounds on facebook. "If you are bored, send a message to a random number..." This was such a fun idea! I took my iPhone and composed the suggested message: "I hid the body... now what?" The message went to a number I dialed without even looking at the keys.

I took another bite of my pizza and there it was. Faster than I would even think. "What did you do with the knife?"

Interesting, I thought. Whoever was there must have been just as bored as I was. "There was no knife!" I answered.

Seconds later a new message came. "You did not look under the bed!" "Oh, yes! I did!" I was laughing. This was turning to be quite a fun!

An angry message came back seconds later "I told you to check carefully you idiot!"

Was someone overdoing it or something? "I did my job. I want my money now!" I wrote.

"You will get nothing!" was the answer.

I took a large sip of wine and tried to think of something funny to make the person on the other side even more furious. And just as I was ready to type the message I heard a loud bang on my door. "Police! Open the door!"....

By Dominique Allmon

Image "Between past and present" by Nico De Pasquale

I Hid the Body... Now What? by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The Planet of Apes

For James

 

I woke up completely confused. Something happened last night and I wasn't quite sure what. I felt pain everywhere. Was it a dream? No, it could not have been. I discovered strange markings on my wrist. There was no blood anywhere, but the markings looked liked a freshly cut polygonal wound. I touched it and a beam of light shot straight into my eyes. Like in trance I could suddenly hear a strange metallic voice.

"My name is Xanara, she said. I am a scientist from the planet Throxos.

You may not know it, but we come here to observe the progress of an experiment that our forefathers began in the protium cycle of time.

Back then such experiments were conducted by our scientists all over the known universe. They were incredibly curious and had a vision of a universe that was very different from the one they were born into. And while they were trying to decode their own origins, they decided to experiment with their genetic substance.

If what they already knew was true, they must have been able to recreate themselves or create something completely different. They believed that it must have been possible to recreate the conditions in which life could thrive or even create new conditions for the still un-created life forms simply to see if such exercise would bring any results.

The Planet of Apes, as we call it, is only one of the countless planets our forefathers visited, but not the only one on which the experiment was successful. And unlike everywhere else they went, this tiny planet of a minor solar system in a disc shaped distant galaxy, already had life.

Our genetic code was implanted into various species that lived on the planet. After first few reproductive cycles it was clear that the species lost the ability to metamorphose. Only the embryos retained that quality. But once the creatures were born they remained what they were - clumsy chunks of inflexible matter And their intelligence was minimal. No one would have ever survived on our planet with such an underdeveloped capabilities.

It took five cycles of time for the beings on this planet to finally grasp the fact that they were not alone in the universe! On other planets the species made of our unadulterated genetic code developed much faster and did not even need that much of our help. They began to create their own technologies and went on to explore the intergalactic space. 

But on this planet life seemed to malfunction. The lifespan was too short for them to evolve a functional organ of cognition. The genetic code was contaminated. The animal part apparently took over in every aspect of their existence. We tried to end our experiment here, but the species seemed to possess an impressive will to survive. This quality was not known to us. When time comes we simply know we have to move on.

You are a scientist who got stuck in an "unsolvable" problem, just like many of the more creative minds in the past. Every time this happened, we came to a rescue. A little push just to see what would happen if you solved the problem. 

The "discoveries" your species made distinguished you from all the other species on this planet. And although all of you carry our genetic code, you were the only ones who received help from us. The story of your civilization is written with our ink, but we gave you enough freedom to chose what you would do with the information you received from us. The choices you've made were quite appalling sometimes, but we did not come here to judge you. Sooner or later you will self-destruct.

When you wake up you will have all the knowledge to solve the problem you are working on, but you will forget about our encounter..."

As soon a I heard her last words the light disappeared and there was not a trace of the strange mutilation on my wrist. Did I dream it? I must be overworked or something!

***

I made some coffee and sat at the computer.

The project was almost dead. The Agency wanted to terminate it. Beginning next month there will be no more funding. And worse of all, my friends thought I was mad. The mad man with an Utopian vision! They laughed, but I knew that it was possible!

I took a sip of my java and looked at the blueprints. I checked my calculations. And there it was! The missing link. Faster than I could ever type, one equation sprang after another. So simple. Why didn't I think of it before?

By Dominique Allmon

The Planet of Apes by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas...

For James

 

We were planning this for years! It never worked, no matter how much we tried. Each year we would promise to celebrate Christmas together, but each year around Thanksgiving at least four of us would find an excuse. Maybe because neither of us ever forgot that fateful Christmas Eve party of 1981. We were in it together. We promised to stay in touch and we did, but we kept avoiding each other. And no one ever mentioned Ginny.

Occasionally one or two of us would accept an invitation to a wedding or to a birthday party. And each of us knew what the others were up to. But the whole gang never met together again. Until this year, that is. Thirty years later!

We rented a house near Aspen and booked our air tickets on time. We agreed to take our spouses with us, but the kids were to stay at home. 

We all made it in life. Ron in Boston. Kira in New York. Bob's law firm was the best on the West Coast. Tom did well on Wall Street. Susan became a Governor of Texas. John decided to give a shot for the White House in the next elections. Chris directed the best Symphony Orchestra in the country. And my project won the prestigious 2011 Architectural Vision Award. Only Donna wasn't doing so well. Her company was under Congressional investigation and you could read about it for weeks in papers across the country. Even the British Financial Time mentioned the scandal. Heads would have to roll, they wrote, and we knew precisely whose head it was to roll first.

I guess, no one in the gang knew that John was cheating on Donna back then. They were to get married, but John could not resist temptation. Ginny was absolutely gorgeous and all the guys had eyes on her. But she was a taboo. Because of her father. There was even a rumor that she was a mistress of Senator Coldwell, but we did not believe it. Coldwell was a friend of her father. They both were running the political scene in Boston. We simply could not imagine that anyone would want to risk his career for a seventeen years old beauty. But after we found Ginny dead under the Christmas tree, I wasn't that sure anymore. 

We were so stoned at that Christmas Eve party that neither of us could even give a coherent testimony to the cops investigating the crime. We smoked too much Mary Jane and the Christmas punch was stronger than it was supposed to be. It was pure booze with cloves and cinnamon. Ginny's time-tested recipe.

Poor Ginny was strangled that night and if she screamed for help, we did not even hear her. The music was too loud.

I remember that there were few other people in the house, but they left early. Ginny's parents were attending a Christmas reception at the Governor's house and all the servants were given a day off. 

The police did not find any traces of an intruder and speculated that it must have been one of us. They could not prove anything, so Ginny's murder remained unsolved. 

Things were never the same for us after that. A shadow of suspicion spread over our friendship. After the funeral we decided to never talk about Ginny again. 

For years I suspected Donna, but never went to tell the cops. She was the jealous type. There wasn't a day that she would not make a scene. Eventually, John broke off their engagement and Donna moved to Chicago to live with her older sister. She told me that she wanted to get her degree there. I knew better.

* * *

My flight was delayed for another twenty minutes, but strangely, I was relaxed. I seldom traveled for pleasure and usually got very upset when my schedule got messed up. But today I was holding Jim's hand. He was still talking on the phone with his secretary. Last minute business had popped up unexpectedly.

The flight was quite pleasant, but I could not stop thinking about our reunion. Jim had met Susan and Ron before, and was a great fan of Chris, but I knew that his political views would collide with John's vision for the country. If we could only leave the politics out of our gathering!

I took a nap while Jim was reading his book. I don't know how long I have slept. I only knew that I had a nightmare. For the first time in years I found myself in Ginny's house. Drunk. Everybody was singing and dancing. I saw John disappearing with Ginny. Oh, no! He was the last person who have seen her alive. It occurred to me that this actually wasn't a dream. It was a memory that I repressed for years. I could even hear Ginny's laughter. John meant nothing to her. He was not a match to the man she was in love with. 

I now clearly remembered that John reappeared from the library quite disheveled. Back then I thought that he just spent some exciting time with Ginny, when in fact, she was struggling with him. No sooner than he entered, Donna was all over him. I had another cup of punch. The next thing I remember was the scream. Susan had found Ginny under the Christmas tree. Ginny was lying there like an unwanted gift. Dead.

* * *

John probably will win the presidency. But what if he is a murderer? I need to talk to someone. Can anyone of them be trusted? Or shall I confront John? We were good friends back then...

Thirty years on and we still looked great! Everybody was already there when Jim and I  finally arrived. Many new faces. Susan came with her second husband. Ron brought his dazzling new wife. Kira came with her lover. Tom finally married his college sweetheart, a prominent Boston lawyer whose name I could never remember. And freshly divorced Chris brought his new love Maureen. She was Irish and played first violin in his orchestra. Chris looked very happy. But when didn't he?

The house was fantastic! We had a large Christmas tree in the living room. And a fire place! Donna took care of the entire arrangement. An old friend of her was a real estate mogul in Colorado. He knew how to live in style. You could actually smell the money.

Everything seemed perfect. It wasn't very cold outside and all was set for the greatest Christmas Eve party ever. A five star catering company took care of our meals, while John provided the champagne. He was in the mood to celebrate. The primary campaigns were absolute success and everything looked like he would secure his party's nomination. The incumbent in the White House had no chance! Dom Pérignon for all!

Champagne helped us relax into a festive mood. We cracked old jokes and laughed at our past adventures. The music was loud and someone brought Mary Jane. Like in the old days! We smoked at the porch and drunk hot Christmas punch that wasn't as good as the one Ginny made years ago. All the years that separated us from that fateful day seemed to be forgotten and we were our old selves again. 

Susan was making angels in the snow and everybody laughed. Ron was dancing with Kira. Jim mingled with the other spouses. I approached John and asked him to follow me into the house. No one seemed to have noticed that we disappeared from the porch. Standing next to the festive Christmas tree, his smile vanished when I told him that I knew he killed Ginny. If this ever came out he could forget the White House. The next thing I knew was that John was glaring at me, his hands around my neck. I could hear everybody sing my favorite Christmas song. Have yourself a merry little Christmas... La la la la la... I struggled. Unable to utter a sound, I saw my world disappear into a deep, scary blackness...

By Dominique Allmon

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas... by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

Also of interest Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Mark Steyn.

My First Mission to Earth

The landing was more than rough. Our module fell apart upon the impact and I found myself thrown quite a distance from the spot we had designated for our landing. Our ships never malfunction, but there was something weird about this unfriendly area that confused the navigation. I remember Trnbxår screaming that the coordinates were right, but nevertheless, something went wrong. We crashed.
I was warned that the beings on this planet were rather hostile and might get strange ideas when they see us without a disguise. I would never forget the history lessons and the story of our unfortunate 85756th expedition to this strange planet. The crew was captured by a vicious crowd who later conducted crude experiments on their physical remains. Abominable!  

I knew I had to find a disguise very quickly. I lurked behind a rock waiting for a proper suit donor to appear. A furry creature came out of nowhere apparently hunting for food in the tall grass. I saw how quick it was. I had to be even quicker if I wanted to wear that suit. I grabbed it, squeezed the creature out and slipped into its jumper without any delay. It felt a bit tight, but there was no time to look for another one. I made off quickly in search of the remaining crew.   

The place looked somewhat familiar. I remembered the images that were shown to me at the Central Command. Nothing had changed here since the last landing. Time seemed to stand still on this funny planet. And funny it was! It was small and rushed like mad around its star. And it only had one moon. Can you imagine that? Really funny. Their entire solar system was like a joke.

I wondered around and found traces of habitation. I entered the perimeter and only an instant later saw two huge bipeds. They noticed me too. I immediately regretted my quick decision to slip into that small furry thing. But amazingly enough, the bipeds seemed less hostile than expected. Maybe they simply liked furry creatures. Imagine. They even gave me something to eat. It was disgusting! A slimy, smelly something. My crxnk would not even touch anything like that and they tried to feed it to me! My disguise, that is.

I must admit though that there was something special about these two bipeds. They looked friendly and seemed to like me. They even called me "Monster", whatever that meant. They invited me to their home. Not so quickly, you two! This might be a trap, I thought. One could not be too careful.

When no one was looking, I snicked in and quickly surveyed the living quarters of my chosen bipeds. They had an access to some very rudimentary communication technology. It looked like the primitive devices our ancestors used about six thousand years ago. And yet, this was better than nothing. I had to act fast. I could gain access to this machine if they trusted me enough to keep me in. I understood that I would have to endure all the fondling and scratching and even more of that atrocious food they were trying to feed me. But patience paid off. In no time I moved in and was allowed to sit next to their communication device. They seemed not to suspect anything.  

My mission was very simple. We needed few more specimen as the ones that were recently captured perished long before the craft could reach the mother ship. We also had to take water and air samples, and extract some bone marrow and some brain tissue. These were needed for grafting experiments. Our school children created some hybrids and we wanted to see if they were compatible with the beings from this planet. We needed the air and water samples to recreate the exact atmosphere of the area.
 

I was charged with the singular honor to oversee the extraction process. The samples had to be immaculate or else they would contaminate the results of the experiment.

As I was told before my mission, the bipeds were very predictable. They followed a very weird but simple daily routine and left me mostly to myself. Their technology seemed to be completely useless so no wonder life on this planet was so archaic. But the beings seemed to enjoy it in their own strange ways. I only had to enhance their technology just a bit. This meant that I had to return to the place of impact. But most importantly, I had to find my crew. My locator signal was on. If anyone survived the impact, they would have no problem finding me.
 

As the time passed, more than one furry suit appeared on the porch of my new living quarters. I tried to communicate, but none of them happened to be my crew in disguise. It was annoying. I was patrolling the area and had to chase away every single one of them. Some even tried to mate with my suit! No one at home would ever believe me if I told them about the real dangers of my mission. Grrxxr! Just get me out of here!
 

Finally, Orvnxtu appeared wearing the most outrageous disguise. He heard my locator signal few days ago, but had a difficulty catching the suit he liked the most. It was as quick as mercury and slightly too small, but it had some advantages, he said. I could not stop laughing when I saw him. He was the color of a ripe nxœtår, but, unfortunately, smelled nothing like it.

My bipeds seemed to like him a lot and gave him the food I rejected. Orvnxtu moved in very quickly and genuinely enjoyed the food he was given. Yuck! But of course, he was more experienced than I. He traveled before and tried the strangest delicacies in all corners of the galaxy. For me, this was the first time and I guess, I wasn't adventurous enough.

Orvnxtu was very smart. He knew that his disguise would expand if he ate a lot. He suggested that I did, too. A bigger suit would be a blessing because my back was itching mercilessly, but I decided to keep things just the way they were. I was enhanced with the cornico-pathaeral gland and could synthesize my own nourishment. If I ate anything at all it was only to defer suspicion. I even begun to like my bipedal Earthlings and allowed them to touch and scratch my furry suit. They would make perfect toys for my crxnk, but this was only a dream since on my planet we were not allowed to keep the specimen to ourselves. Any specimen that survived became property of the Ministry of Science and this was good so.

By Dominique Allmon

This short story was inspired by two enchanted cats - Madame M. also known as the Monster, and Agent Orange. Madame M. is by no means an ordinary cat. She definitely  came from outer space. Agent Orange is the only creature that was allowed to set foot on our porch. Now they are plotting together, but Madame M. is definitely the commander in chief. 

To read about Madame M. please click here

Image source abducted by aliens

My First Mission to Earth by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The Pearl Necklace

 

It had happened again! Claire made a stunning entrance this morning. She came to the office wearing a beautiful pearl necklace. Last week it was a new mink coat. Today, this elegant piece of jewelry. We did not even have to ask. Her new boyfriend was very, very generous. She never told us much, but we suspected that he was a married man. 

The office gossip thrived on women like Claire. She wasn't very attractive, but had the certain je ne sais quoi that enslaved any man who would approach her. We were jealous. 

During lunch Beth told me that she had a plan. She would be wearing a necklace just like that by the next week. Not that her husband, who never remembered birthdays or anniversaries, would get such an idea all by himself, but she had a plan. 

After office Beth did not grab the usual Chinese take-out on her way home. She decided to cook the dinner herself. Something she never did on weekdays. When her husband came home, he was more than surprised. What was the occasion? Did he forget another anniversary? Beth was smiling mysteriously, but did not look upset when he did not produce any flowers. So, maybe this was the new way to put some spice into their relationship. The therapy wasn't really working. He still loved her, but his job was too demanding and she did not give him enough support. The tears, the jealousy, the complaints... Maybe the trip to Hawaii would change everything. Second honeymoon, Dr. Zimmerman told them.

The dinner was fabulous. She did not even cook like that on Sundays, but it had to be extraordinary. She was on a special mission. Her husband looked surprised and a bit tense, but did not question her. The evening was very pleasant and they even went to the movies. Like in the old days. 

Three days later Beth came to the office with swollen eyes. She looked awful. She probably was crying for the whole night. We did not dare to ask. Maybe later she would tell us what happened. She was working quietly at her desk and did not talk to anyone. I could not bear it. I got us two lattes and suggested we take a short break. She was grateful, but broke down as soon as I handed her the coffee. Between sobs she told me what happened. 

She had the wonderful idea of telling her husband that she wanted to have a pearl necklace, just like Claire's. She was a cunning woman and decided that asking him for it would sound like an extortion. Especially now when their relationship was falling apart. She wanted him to take the initiative. The morning after their beautiful dinner together she woke up and told her husband that she had a very strange and mysterious dream. She dreamed that they were in some kind of beautiful place and that he gave a beautiful pearl necklace. She was very surprised and wanted to know what was the meaning of this dream. Her husband was just as puzzled, but did not say anything. 

Last night he came home and gave her a small beautifully wrapped gift. She could not believe her eyes. This was the first time in years that he thought of her. Well, not quite. She coerced him to buying her this gift, but this wasn't important right now. She already saw the faces of her colleagues admiring her pearl necklace. What was she supposed to wear? The beige tween-set or a dress. But which one? 

She took the box and kissed her husband. She felt loved again. Another beautiful evening. Maybe things would work between them after all. Jack felt good about himself. It took so little to make a woman happy. He went to the kitchen to get the drinks. She couldn't wait to open the gift and tore the wrapping apart. At first there was a silence and then, a loud scream. She just could not believe her eyes. "The Interpretation of Dreams" by Sigmund Freud! First edition...

By Dominique Allmon

The Pearl Necklace by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.

The World According to Anna

Another man disappeared from her life... Not that he was gone anywhere. Oh, no. He lived with her in this large, beautiful house they inherited recently from her mother. 

She sipped her martini and watched the dogs play in the garden. She looked around and thought that maybe she should get busy. The plants definitely needed some trimming. 

She was mixing her third martini. "My name is James," he said. Not exactly James Bond, but he was handsome and had more charm than anyone she met in a long time. She knew right away that she would not be able to resist the temptation. Things looked so gloomy at home.

She went back to the terrace and saw the dogs disappear behind a large azalea bush. How carefree they were. How easy their lives... She was getting drunk. Closing her eyes she tried to imagine what her life would have been like if she did not meet James. No. It did not really matter. Frank became invisible a long time ago. Their marriage failed and James had nothing to do with it.

When she first met Frank eight years ago, she felt that this was the beginning of an exciting journey. She fell in love with him right away. They had so much in common. They traveled a lot, enjoyed music, collected art. He was such a passionate lover, but something changed and she wasn't even sure when this happened. Life with Frank lost its sparkle. She felt stuck. She still loved Frank, in a way. They say it isn't love, but a habit. She suspected that it was pity mixed with regret, or maybe an obligation of some kind, but preferred to believe that she still felt something for him. Otherwise, why would it be so difficult to leave him?

And of course, there was James. He was only two years younger than Frank, but had so much more life within. He almost reminded her of her first husband, Don. They were too young when they met and did not have a clue what life was all about. One day he disappeared. He took off with another woman taking with him their entire savings as well as her Tiffany engagement ring. 

The dogs were at her feet now wagging their tails like mad. Carefree life. She was in a prison of her own making and felt she needed to break out. But how? Or when? She believed that the world was like an immense hall with many doors. You could have everything. Your perfect life was lurking behind one of these doors. You just had to choose and open one. But which one was the right one? Every time you got stuck in the life of your choice you ended up in the huge hall and had to chose again. Some of us seem to never find the right door. We wander through the corridors of life avoiding the stares of others who, like us, just entered through the wrong door.

No matter what she decided to do, someone would get hurt. If she left Frank, he would not make it without her. His business was falling apart and she kept him motivated to go on. They grew apart as lovers and could never be friends. If she left, he would fall apart like his business. But if she stayed with him, she would suffocate. 

Taking another sip of her martini she lost herself in the beauty of this ancient garden. For a while at least. What if she broke off with James? She wouldn't really break his heart. In no time he would find another woman. Or would he? For the first time in months she was uncertain about him. But if she left him, she would deprive herself of love and passion. This wasn't just another side-step. Nothing you get over with a drink or two. This was her life. Things were still possible. She was only fifty two and did not want to get buried alive with Frank. But she was afraid to go away with James. What if he left her for another woman? What if things became a routine as soon as they began to share the same bathroom?

She could keep things just the way they were. The desperately boring, but safe life with Frank and the exciting affair with James. She would miss him at lunch and pretend to attend another yoga class, or something just to get away from Frank in the evening. She would miss James as soon as he kissed her good-bye. He would insist she stayed, she would get anxious to get back home. They would make plans for the weekend knowing that they would never be able to wake up together on Sunday morning. How long would that last? 

But James confronted her. She was forced to make a decision. She had to choose. Soon. She could not think clearly. Why did he insist? Things were just fine the way they were. She wanted to get up, but gave up. James was out of town and Frank wouldn't be back until late this evening. 

Why was it so difficult to make a decision? Where was she in the whole scenario? It occurred to her that leaving Frank might not solve her problems at all. She felt as if her life was almost over. Her best friend decided to have plastic surgery when she felt stuck like that. Something had to change and she chose to change her looks. And did anything change at all? She is on antidepressants now. Poor Tara. 

Lying there with her eyes closed she was trying to remember the time when life with Frank was still full of excitement. They had money, they had visions, they wanted to experience something spectacular. But somehow they grew apart. The magic was gone. At some point they became strangers who had nothing more to say to each other and their conversation was reduced to party gossip and small talk. They still could talk passionately about the stock market, but this made things even more tragic for her. She knew that she was too dominant and too demanding. Just like her mother. It was her fault that Frank gave up on them and became invisible. Disappeared. If he were at home right now, she wouldn't even notice. A quiet shadow of a man who ceased to be. Or was it the other way around? She never really gave a thought to it. What if she was the one who disappeared? Maybe Frank wanted to leave her long ago, but simply couldn't and felt stuck in his life with her? What if he too was trying to figure out which door to open? She never considered that.

Telephone rang in the living room. She was too drunk to get up and just listened to the message that was being recorded on the answering machine. It was Jacqueline from the doctor's office. She was supposed to contact Dr. Andrews as soon as possible. They had the results of her mammogram. 

By Dominique Allmon

The World According to Anna by Dominique Allmon is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.