The following is a true story. It was originally printed in a book by Hybobolus Clune. In-case you don’t know Hybobolus was a 12th Century Belgian monk who was able to vibrate at the same frequency as the Interdimensional Beings. That meant he had access to a number of insights into reality. Among them was what was to become known as his cosmic prophecy.
The knowledge that, at the end of the twentieth century, the human race would be attacked from outer space.
Before you read on, there are three things you will need to know about Superluminal Hyperdrive Engines:
- They instantly transport a spacecraft to any point in the solar system.
- They are absolutely deadly. At causing trouble.
- To date, only one has ever been built.
The story begins with two people sitting in a room in Sligo, watching television. And the President of the United States of America was speaking. The whole world ( at least those that survived the initial assault), was listening.
This included Martina and Pa.
‘Good morning,’ said the President. He was standing on the deck of an aircraft carrier. He looked worried.
‘In less than an hour,’ he continued, ‘aircraft from here will join others from around the world. And we will be launching the largest aerial battle in the history of mankind.’
Tears made their way down Martina’s face. Herself and Pa sat quietly on the sofa. They focused on the television.
It was dark, and the only other light came from outside the living room door, which was open.
The president continued his solemn address:
‘Perhaps it is fate that today is the 4th of July, and that once again we are fighting for our freedom. Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution -but from annihilation’.
Pa held Martina’s hand. Watching the images of destruction from around the globe had made them feel small and helpless.
The President spoke again:
‘We will be fighting for our right to live, to exist. And should we win the day, the 4th of July will be known as the day that humanity declared in one voice, we will not go quietly into the night’.
A text banner scrolled its way across the bottom of the screen:
Islamabad: 486,000 …Guangzhou: 887,000 …Sao Paulo: 560,000.
The journalists in the newsroom had thought it helpful to broadcast the estimated casualties. Pa stood up to turn off the television.
‘I can’t look anymore -there is nothing we can do’, he said.
‘So …ye’ve seen it too’, came a voice from the door.
It belonged to Kevin, down from upstairs. He was pale and trembling, his eyes as wide as saucers. The others did not reply, there was nothing to say.
Kevin sat down on the edge of a chair close to the door and put his head in his hands. Pa walked over to a corner of the room. Martina wiped the tears from her face.
‘We…. we, uh, need to warn the others’, she said, ‘They are still up in the woods. They won’t know anything about this. We’ve got to…’
Her voice trailed off when she noticed Pa rooting through a pile of dirty bags. He produced a tobacco tin, and sat back down. A strong smell filled the room as he opened the box.
‘Whoa, that’s white widow’, she said.
Kevin lifted his head and looked at the tin: ‘Where’d ya get that Pa?’
‘Got it ages ago, I’d been keeping it for a special occasion’
‘Like what …Armageddon?’, Kevin’s head fell back into his hands.
Pa sat down and began sticking cigarette papers together: ‘Will ya turn on the light Martina?’
‘Jesus no, no lights’ , Kevin leapt up and paced over to the window, peering carefully beyond the curtains ‘we don’t want to make things easy for their scouts’
‘How many Gettafixes did you have Kev?’, asked Martina.
Kevin handed a torn strip of blotting paper to Martina: ‘I dunno, how many’s there?’
‘Well then, the answer is whatever was there at the start, less the three I gave to ye, and the three that’s there …so the first amount minus six is what I had’
Pa took a head-torch from one of his pockets and began carefully filling the papers with the contents of the box. Kevin’s attention went back out the window.
Martina watched as he leaned towards the glass. ‘What can ya see?’
‘I dunno Martina, there’s a glow on the horizon …they might have hit Ballymote already’.
Pa looked up from the spliff. The light from his torch temporarily blinded the others. He scratched his head, and continued rolling the joint. ‘ah come on Kevin, why would an alien race travel billions of light years across space to vaporize Ballymote …think about what you’re saying, it’s way more likely they’d have gone for a big industrial target …like Sligo’
‘Don’t be daft Pa, there’s the sheep mart, and it’s got a railway station, and is less than four miles from the N4 …of course they’re gonna target it.’
Kevin stared out the window for several seconds before speaking again. ‘Anyways, it’s too hard to tell with that comet up there ..there’s a thing, it’s obvious that comet is light from the alien mother-ship, and you can bet the government have known about it for months, why the fuck wouldn’t they just have let it be known? you’d swear they wanted the aliens to win’.
Martina got up and walked to the door.
‘we have to warn the others.’
Pa reacted by shining his torch into the tin, ‘this stuff is deadly, look at all that white, that’s pure THC’.
Kevin nodded in agreement. ‘Keep the seeds Pa, I’m gonna see if I can get them to grow.’
‘Have ye two forgotten that the world is about to end?, we need to let the others know.’ Martina stared at Pa as she spoke.
He didn’t reply, he was focused on inserting a roach into the carefully formed papers.
‘Well… if ye don’t care about them I do’, she continued, ‘I’m going up there right now, someone’s got to go.’ Martina’s voice cracked as she spoke. ‘It’s fate, fate we ended up in a B&B with satellite reception …fate that I’m the one to warn them. Fine, ye stay here to wallow in the dark, it’s like the President said we will not go quietly into the night’
She watched Pa slowly get some papers ready for another spliff and sat back down next to him.
‘…well, except that I’ll have to go quietly into the night. Do ye think the aliens are up there already?’
Pa sparked a lighter. He sat back, inhaling slowly. Smoke drifted across the room.
‘Don’t hog all of the joint’, snapped Martina
‘I thought you were heading up the woods?’
‘I am Pa, I mean, I will …in a while, pass that over will ya?’
Kevin began pacing across the room ‘something about this doesn’t add up lads’.
He sat back down on the chair near the door, ‘this all happened too quick. The aliens must’ve had a spy to give them coordinates for the cities. Someone here. Someone who told them where to strike, and when the time was right. It has to have been Gerry McLaughlin.’
Pa handed the joint to Martina.
‘Who?, Gerry McLaughlin from up in Cairns Hill?’, he asked.
‘Yea, him, I’m sure of it’
‘Do you know he cleared the whole of Zero Tolerance?’ Pa started rolling a joint as he spoke, ‘there’s fifty seven sub basement levels in that game. Fifty seven. It took him twenty hours straight …that’s some going’.
Kevin stopped pacing, ‘Yeah, well how come you never see him out drinking?, that’s because he’s been too busy signaling the aliens. And can ya really be sure he cleared Zero Tolerance, where’s the proof. No, there’s something not right there.’
‘I dunno Kev, he spends all his time up in the house, I don’t see where he could be signaling them from …are you sure it could be him?’.
‘Very sure, he’s doing it up in the house, using his computer. Well, look, tell me this -have you ever seen him eating? Huh? No. And I’ll tell you why, because he’s an alien, that’s why’.
Pa finished rolling the new joint. Martina stubbed out the last one before rejoining the conversation. ‘I saw him eating a cheese sandwich once’.
Pa slouched back into the sofa. A fog of smoke surrounded him. Kevin tapped his foot on the floor. ‘He had us all fooled’, he muttered.
‘It was on the Strandhill bus, there was lettuce in it and everything’, continued Martina.
‘Alright, okay Martina, I heard ya the first time, ya don’t have to keep banging on about it …so Gerry McLaughlin is not an alien, so what, it’s hardly gonna help us stop the invasion, sure it won’t Pa?’
Pa gave a little cough, ‘Huh?, sorry Kev, what were we talking about?’
‘Gerry McLaughlin?, do you know he cleared all fifty seven sub basement levels of Zero Tolerance?’
‘Pa, would you hand me over the joint for Kevin? Sorry Kevin, I just realized you had none of the last one’.
Martina took hold of it, took a deep drag, and sat back, ‘Pa, what do you think we should do about the aliens?’
‘I dunno Martina, I’m not really an expert in that kind of thing. I mean, we all saw the speech earlier -it looks like they have a plan. There’s units in the army who train for this. I reckon we should just wait for them to do what hey have to do’
‘Wait for them to do what?’, asked Kevin, suddenly animated, ‘get themselves killed …F16’s against Alien Spacecraft, how’s that gonna work? Have you rocks in your head? Huh? …there’s nothing …wait for what? What’s the fucking Air Corps gonna do? Six PC 12’s, probably only two of them working…they’re not even set up for night flying for fuck sake …it’d be like trying to fight a grizzly bear with a teabag.’
Martina leaned over and gently tapped Kevin on the elbow with the spliff. Kevin nodded and took it in his hand. He drew greedily on it.
Kevin’s foot stopped tapping, and he sank back from the edge of his chair. Pa slowly set up the papers for a third joint. He flicked a bit of stem onto the floor. ‘I tell ye what, that MC was annoying earlier, like, what’s the point in that …seriously, whoever gave that fucker a microphone should be shot. The music was deadly but when he started up the party was like a fucking aerobics class …such a head melt, I was just coming up at the time too’.
‘Ya don’t think he was one of them?’ asked Martina.
‘What, the aliens -no way, not a chance, no alien commander worth his salt would trust an invasion to scuttering shitetalk, ya don’t need to be Terry Wogan to work that one out.’
‘But think about it, it makes sense, lure everybody to a party in the woods, and then strike when they’re distracted …Pa, we’ve got to go up there and warn them.’
‘You’re right Martina, but not about the MC, he was just a gobshite …here, spark that one up’
Kevin began quietly muttering to himself. ‘lads, no, not that …no, that won’t work …but if I just …hmm, gravity needs to work in all directions, and three circuit boards, hmm.’
‘Are you okay Kev?’
Kevin stubbed out the joint on the arm of the chair and tucked the remains into his shoe.
He cleared his throat.
‘Lads, I know how to save the world.’