Strange Sci-fi Tales - Weird "Aliens" [#138]

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           He had been alone for so long that despite being an introvert, the idea of company had become appealing. So when the cavalcade of “alien” girls showed up and made themselves at home in his little space station, he didn’t reject them. They called themselves aliens, but in his eyes, they looked entirely human, except they lack basic commons sense. Besides, they were his type, too bad he was sure they were all a figment of his imagination.

           The first girl, the one with off-white hair, nibbled on a bag of freeze-dried snack food. As in the bag itself, not the food. He’d say she looked bookish if it weren’t for her complete lack of sense.

           “You do realize the food is inside the bag, right?” He pointed out.

           “Makes sense,” she replied, “this part tastes awful.” Her attempts to eat the bag ceased, yet she still struggled to even open the bag. Not for lack of strength or effort, but because she couldn’t even find the right side to open it from. He rolled his eyes and left the “alien” to her devices.

           The second girl, with an unnatural shade of green hair, had engrossed herself in an old magazine. One she held upside down. Even he could see the growing frustration on her face.

           “Your holding it upside down,” he commented.

           “This is not a cipher?” She asked before she finally flipped the magazine back up the right way. “Oh, this is more legible, that explains the pictures.” Her frustration faded and was replaced with a much softer expression as her eyes relentlessly scanned the pages. He shrugged and moved on.

           The last girl, with perfectly normal hazel hair, stared out the window into the vast field of stars. She had stood there for at least an hour. It frankly made him curious about her intentions.

           “Looking at anything in particular?” He asked her.

           “No, just enjoying this intricate piece of art,” she turned towards. “I did not think one could so thoroughly replicate this image.”

           “That’s not an art piece, that’s the window,” he explained.

           “Oh, I understand,” she turned away. He could only imagine her expression, but he had a pretty good guess.

           ‘So this is what it’s like to go mad,’ he thought, ‘I thought it would feel a lot more lonely and tormenting.’

           “Your sanity has not left you,” the white-haired one exclaimed.

           “Uh, did you just read my mind?” He stuttered.

           “Yes,” the green-haired one replied, “you think that we lack some trait called common sense and that we are not real.”

           “Can you blame me?” He stated, “You’re don’t exactly look like aliens.”

           “How many aliens have you encountered before?” The hazel-haired one countered.

           “Point taken, but how am I supposed to know you’re even real?” He inquired.

           “Like this,” the white-haired one moved close to him and slapped him across the face. “We are very real, you should learn to accept that.”

           “Ok, you’re real,” he rubbed his cheek, “then why are you here again?”

           “Is it not obvious?” The green-haired one stared at him.

           “N-no?” He uttered as the three “aliens” glared at him in unison.

           “Do not worry, you’ll understand eventually,” the hazel haired one affirmed.

           “When?”

           “Now,” they stated in unison as they began to circle around him, as he began to break out in a cold sweat.

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Just because something is weird and unexplained, doesn't necessarily mean it isn't real.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Enigmatic Fantasies - Forgotten [#137]

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           Yole was an artificer, a master of magic and machines. He was known as one of the greatest to ever live, but that was all in the past. The old master had perished alone in his workshop in the mountains. He was to be buried alongside his wife Hilda at the academy they had graduated from decades prior. The gathering for his funeral was vast but tightly knit.

           “Yole was a great man,” one of his friends spoke at the funeral. “He may have secluded himself after his wife’s sudden passing those many decades ago, but he never let the tragedy halt his work. Even to the end, he continued to work tirelessly to perfect his creations. Any among you today who possess a prosthetic limb or have a close friend or family member who does have Yole to thank for that miracle.”

           Every speaker at the funeral honored Yole’s accomplishments, no one could speak ill of him, only praise his work. Yet, no one could talk of his latest creation, no one had the heart to reveal Yole’s last gift to the world. Among his final notes, he spoke of activities no sane man should ever consider.

           “I hope Yole and his wife find peace in the next life,” Yole’s friend stated. ‘I hope the last of research never came to fruition,’ he thought, ‘it was unnatural.’ Yole’s friend stared out at the rows of mourners before him and put on a forced smile. ‘Why Helin crystal? Hasn’t it caused him enough pain?’

           Yole had an exceptional connection to Helin crystal. Without it, his greatest creations would never have existed. Without it, he would not have lost his wife so early in life. An unstable magical reagent, Helin crystal is infamous for its volatile nature, but also its phantom limb effect. Once attached, a prosthetic limb created with Helin crystal would trick the mind and body into thinking they had the original limb back. Touch, feeling, and a full range of motion would be restored perfectly a real miracle.

           Sadly, even a single error when handling Helin crystal may cost you life and limb, which is exactly what happened to Yole and his wife. Of course, this never stopped Yole, he believed in the power of the crystals, his notes are proof of that.

           Only a few had the privilege to pour over his final notes and the few who did all agreed to store them away along with his last creation. Within the notes, Yole theorized that if Helin crystal could trick the body into thinking it had its limb back then, what if you took the next step beyond? Could you trick more of the body? Could you just place only the essential organs into a machine powered by Helin crystal? Beyond even that, could you trick a dead body into thinking it was alive?

           Yole would never see if the fruit of his research would come to pass, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. His friends and former peers were horrified to see what he attempted, but it was likely he didn’t care. Sealed deep within the academy’s storage rooms, alongside Yole’s notes, was something akin to a machine-made human. Found alongside the dead Yole, the academy knew not what to make of the artificial human-made in his late wife’s image. Thus the academy hid it away, hoping no one would ever repeat such a crime against nature. They were relieved that, by all accounts, it seemed Yole had failed.

~--~

           Hilda opened her eyes to be greeted only with darkness, she quickly realized she was sealed inside a wooden crate. In a panic, she pounded on her prison, which broke open like plywood. The confused woman jolted up, but only found herself in an equally dark room. Her body felt strange, she felt no sweat on her brow nor shortness of breath despite her panic. Everything felt right; this was her body; she was sure of it. Then why did it look so wrong? Where was she? Where was Yole?

           Hilda looked down at her hands, uninjured even after breaking through wood; they also seemed to glint from the little bit of light in the room. Upon closer observation, she realized something was off about her hands. A distinct memory of her husband’s work bubbled to the surface.

           ‘Since when did I have prosthetic limbs?’ She thought.

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Some things are better left forgotten, but that doesn't mean they'll go away forever.


Be sure to read the previous stories in this loose series, Loved, Yearning and Recalled.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Enigmatic Fantasies - Recalled [#136]

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           Yole was an artificer, a known master of magic and machines. His modest workshop in the mountains was an open secret among his former peers. He was known to hide there for months or even years on end, rarely coming down to share his findings, and even more rarely allowing visitors. That was the case until recently, as he hadn’t been seen in a little over half a decade.

           Wilson was a fresh out school rookie, nothing more than an errand boy for his superiors at this point. He may have graduated from the same artificer academy as Yole, but he was nowhere near as renowned or respected. He hoped that would change soon.

           “Just around the bend, I believe,” Wilson mumbled as he climbed the mountain where Yole’s workshop was hidden. The secluded location was revealed to him recently, along with the simple task of checking on Yole’s condition. It was not the most important job, but Wilson hoped the old master would have some pointers and advice for him.

           “Will the old man even give me the time of day?” Wilson wondered in concern. In truth, all he needed to do was confirm Yole’s health and progress, idle chatter was secondary. “At the very least, I can brag about meeting him to my friends,” he assured himself as the modest building came into view.

           The workshop wasn’t much to look at, but Wilson rationalized that was the point. Nestled beneath a ridge and set of oak trees, the wooden structure looked no more exciting than a hunter’s cabin at first glance. However, the metal accents and the fact the house wasn’t so much built next to the ridge but built into it betrayed its real function.

           Wilson quickly knocked on the door, but he received no response. Repeated attempts produced the same result, not even a grumpy reply or angry threat. Concern mounted for the rookie, uncertain of what to make of the situation.

           “Considering his reputation, I doubt Yole is one to leave his workshop often,” Wilson considered, “Is he out for a stroll? Asleep?” The young man checked the door’s handle, and sure enough, it was locked tight. Usually, a lock would be no problem for any artificer; however, this was the door to Yole’s home. Obviously, one of Wilson’s skills would struggle to open such a door, which was likely protected by an intricate locking mechanism. Yet, the door opened with the application of a simple lock picking device.

           “I would expect better from Yole,” Wilson shrugged as he opened the door. “To be fair, only his close associates know where he lives, so I guess he doesn’t feel the need.” Wilson trudged inside the darkened home, an odd smell assaulted his nose. “Burnt out candles? Mold?” Wilson guessed at the stench, “not quite either.”

           The rookie navigated the compact workshop, cluttered with machinery, both whole and in pieces. It was slow going, and the building seemed to stretch on forever, but Wilson persisted. He found his way to the far side of the structure, marked with a series of windows covered by curtains. The rookie opened the curtains out of instinct. Light to trickled into the room and revealed a beautiful view of the mountainside.

           “Lovely, but where is Yole?” Wilson scanned the room, “You would think I would notice-” The young man’s gaze stopped dead in place, he found what he was looking for. Across the room, in a cleaned out corner, was an old man in a chair, with a ragged gray beard, a prosthetic arm, and eye. His eyes were open, but his body remained unmoving, not even a sign of breath. More shockingly was his companion, Yole’s metal right hand was locked in an embrace with another equally artificial limb.

           Seated in its own chair, was a complete mechanical being, with a feminine shape and visage, but still wholly artificial. The construct was seemingly pieced together from various prosthetic limbs attached to a torso, with a smooth head placed on top. The face looked almost human. A perfectly carved simulacrum of a young woman’s face betrayed only by its metallic hue.

           Wilson approached cautiously, his skin crawling from the presence of the dead body and the machine straight out of the uncanny valley. Upon closer inspection, he spotted a piece of paper clutched in Yole’s left hand. With great care, the young man pried the parchment from the elder’s hand and read what was written.

           “I will bring her back,” the note began and repeated relentlessly until the very end. Wilson’s eyes almost glazed over reading the repeated words until he spotted a difference in the very last line. “I brought her back.”

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It's always the simplest most mundane tasks that uncover startling truths.

Be sure to read the previous stories in this loose series, Loved and Yearning.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Enigmatic Fantasies - Yearning [#135]

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           Yole was an artificer, a master of magic and machines. His tiny home and workshop in the mountains was his secluded hideaway, where he could hide away from the world for months or years on end. He was alone in this world, but he hoped he wouldn’t be for long.

           Yole sat at his desk by the window; however, the curtains were closed to keep the light out. He scratched at his ragged, gray beard with his prosthetic arm. The intricate metal arms mimicked the motions of a real limb so gracefully it was almost eerie. The same was not true of Yole’s replaced eye, which appeared more like an oversized monocle fused to his head.

           He slowly built an intricate device on his desk, constructed from hundreds of gears and other various metal parts. Yole was careful to not let even a single bead of sweat fall into his creation and meticulously cleaned his tools at each step. The mechanical marvel before was larger than anything he had constructed previously. It was almost equal in size to himself.

           With absolute precision, Yole inserted a large, red crystal amidst the gears. As he sealed his construction within its outer casing, Yole breathed a sigh of relief.

           “Not much longer now,” he proclaimed as he stood from his chair, his aging body creaking from each movement. He slipped along the side of his desk to another table, which held a collection of parts wrapped in soft fabrics. Yole slowly unraveled one of the parts to reveal a face, carved from metal. The very sight of this image caused tears to well up in his good eye, but Yole suppressed the emotion. “I will bring her back,” he affirmed.

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We yearn for what is lost, we desire what cannot be obtained.

Be sure to read the previous story in this loose series, Loved.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy

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Enigmatic Fantasies - Loved [#134]

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           Yole was an artificer, a master of magic and machines. His little home and workshop in the mountains was his secluded sanctuary, where he would dive into his work for months on end. However, he was not alone in these endeavors, far from it, in fact.

           As Yole sat at his desk by the window, he fiddled with a prosthetic arm made from gears and metal. With careful precision, he inserted a red crystal into the arm’s palm and closed it with a glass hatch. The intricate piece of machinery sprang to life, the multi-jointed fingers twitched and wiggled. The whole length of the arm sputtered to life with the sound of hundreds of gears. He smiled, satisfied with his creation.

           “Has your work finally come to fruition?” A soft voice came from behind him. “I do hope so,” slender arms wrapped around his shoulders.

           “You need not worry, my dear Hilda,” Yole grinned as she stroked his clean-shaven face. “My prototype is complete, it finally worked flawlessly.”

           “And how did you power it?” Hilda inquired as she snatched some of his notes off the table.

           “About that,” he trailed off as she pored over his handwriting.

           “Helin Crystals? Yole, you should know better,” she scolded.

           “Do not fret my dear,” Yole assured, “in lesser hands, they are nothing but danger, but in mine, they are perfection. For you see, they will make my prosthetics the best in the land.”

           “Yole, it doesn’t matter how practiced your hands are when you’re playing with fire,” Hilda countered.

           “No, you see, I call it the phantom limb effect,” Yole explained. “The crystals trick the body into thinking their new limb is the original, restoring both touch and feel.”

           “I so desperately want to trust you,” Hilda admitted, “but I can’t abide by this, you need better protection.

           “It is unnecessary now,” Yole picked up the arm and showed it to her, “look, it is already in place and safely-” His words were cut off as the arm detonated in their faces, and the room was bathed in a blinding, red light. 

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Even the most experienced can make rookie errors.

This is the first part of a loose four part story, the rest will be posted over the course of this week and the next.

Until next time, Read, Comment and Enjoy.

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