Categories
fiction Stories

The Silver Sphere Part 3

Illustration From The Sphere Part 3 on www.davidgittlin.net
19th Century Art Deco Silver Vase

If you haven’t been following “The Silver Sphere” or need a refresher, click here for part one and here for part two.

“How do you expect to get us to New York quickly?” I asked Arcon, and then immediately regretted it. I expected another irritated rebuke for wasting his time. There is no way a super-intelligent AI being from the other side of the galaxy would not have a solid plan for the journey. I braced myself for Arcon’s withering response.

Arcon made humming and clicking noises, as if my question amused him. “Well, since I can’t fly or beam, I suppose we’ll have go the old fashioned way. We’ll take your car.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to drive you over a thousand miles to New York City in my ancient Mazda Miata with 120,000 miles already under its belt?

Arcon made crackling sounds. I imagined the noise was his latest way of communicating his impatience to me. “It beats taking the bus, don’t you think?”

“The odds are less than fifty-fifty my car can make the trip without having a coronary thrombosis.”

“Give me an hour alone with it in the garage, and I’ll have her as good as new.”

Shades of the movie “Christine” flickered inside my head. I saw my car reconstituting itself like the 1958 Plymouth Fury did after it was destroyed by a gang of bullies. I remembered the movie’s tagline: “Body by Plymouth–Soul by Satan.” I strongly suspected I was in some kind of elaborate nightmare. Perhaps this was my subconscious proving it.

We were sitting at a chrome and glass table in an alcove of my friend Jeffrey’s ultra modern kitchen. Being a silver sphere about the size of a bizzarely sculpted basketball, Arcon fit right right in with the decor.

Silver Sphere with Streamlined Sides and a Hole in the Middle.

I rose abruptly from the table. “Excuse me, I need a beer,” I said to Arcon. I was beginning to crack under the pressure of the situation. If what Arcon had said a few minutes earlier were true, the Earth had less than seventy-two hours before a giant pulsar from a distant supernova fried the planet into a crispy ember. Unless, of course, Arcon and me managed to do something about it.

Neutron Star Explosion

After removing an Amstel Light from Jeffrey’s built-in stainless steel refrigerator, I rejoined Arcon at the kitchen table. I was grateful that Arcon had sagely decided to reveal his plan and my role in it one step at a time. I was having enough trouble wrapping my head around step one.

“So, we drive to New York in my resurrected Miata, and then I somehow smuggle you to the top of the One World Trade Center building. Does that about sum it up?”

“You won’t have to smuggle me. I know how we can get past security.”

“Somehow I don’t feel relieved.”

“You should feel relieved” Arcon said with his typical lack of diplomacy. “I’ll disguise myself as a gorgeous 19th century Art-Deco vase. You’ll carry me into the building in a case. When you open the case, the guards will be astonished by my beauty and originality and ask silly questions. I assume they’ll ask you why you came. You’ll tell them you’re a tourist heading for the top floor observatory to meet your girlfriend and give her the lovely heirloom I’m posing as.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It will be. Even for someone like you.”

Another question presented itself. Risking another reprisal I asked: “If you made it from the other side of the galaxy to a beach in Florida, why can’t you project yourself from here to the top of the World Trade Center?”

Man Walking On A Moonlit Beach

Arcon answered telepathically, as he always did, in my native language: Serbian. All of our conversations were held in my native dialect to reduce the odds of any eavesdroppers comprehending my end of our top secret discussions.

Arcon must have concluded that I needed to hear the answer to my query to gain my trust and commitment because he replied to my question calmly.

“The mother-ship dropped me five thousand feet above the ocean. I’m able to navigate and land safely in free-fall, but I can’t propel myself, as I’ve mentioned. It’s a trade off, Joseph. I don’t have room onboard for brains and propulsion.”

“So how will you get back to your ship?”

“I won’t. I’ll remain here on Earth, if there is an Earth left.”

The Mother Ship Dropped The Alien 5,000 Feet above the East Coast of Florida

I wondered briefly if that meant Arcon had more adventures in store for me, if we survived. Then, I remembered my latest novel and its sad status as distressingly past due. And then, I imagined my editor calling me to announce that she had finally lost patience with me and the book was cancelled.

Arcon seemed to sense my utter despair. “Why don’t you join me in the garage and watch me bring your old car back to life. Does she have a name?”

“Mathilde. She reminds me of a French woman I once knew with sunrise golden hair and intense blue eyes. I still have one of her paintings.”

The Artist With Spun Golden Hair and Intense Blue Eyes

“Then come along, Joseph. Let’s breathe new life into your lost love. I’m confident it will make you feel much better.

To Be Continued…

Categories
dreams inspiration

Making Meaning In These Hard Times

Potter Making A Clay Pot On A Potter's Wheel.
Photo by Deb Kennedy on Unsplash.com

Is there a meaning to life?

Some say yes.

Some say no.

Some say, “I’m not so sure.”

Some say, “WTF. I give up. I don’t care about it anymore.”

Some may be fortunate enough to have the meaning they seek fall down on their heads like summer rain. As it is said, “Seek and ye shall find.”

Then, there are those who make their own meaning. They refuse to “surrender,” as so many religious pundits counsel them to do.

Instead, these intrepid souls stand up and refuse to be shredded by the unkind cuts of life.

They make their own meaning. They have the courage, the confidence, the motivation, the talent, and the perseverance to make it happen.

Above all else, I believe motivation and the intelligence to use talent wisely are the most important qualities for making a beneficial impact personally and inter-personally.

Talent without the requisite qualities to use it beneficially is a waste. We’ve seen too many examples in the media of people who can’t handle their talent. Who think it’s a curse rather than a gift. Who take their talent for granted. Who don’t accept the responsibility that comes with the gift.

Where am I going with this?

Ah, yes.

I’m simply making meaning in my own little way.

Through the haze and uncertainty of these hard times.

How about you?

Colorful Photo of Man Welding
Photo by Max LaRochelle on Unsplash.com
Categories
Poetry self-discovery

Destination Unknown

One of a Kind and Lonely Path

It’s down to you and me.

I’ve been avoiding it, but it had to come.

Sooner or later.

Starting out as a drip, drip drip.

Blossoming into a thundering torrent of voices.

Voices inside of me.

Voices outside of me.

I have to stop listening to the outside voices.

I am the only one who can take it from here.

I have a singular path.

Lit by a glimmering light source.

One step at a time.

I must walk alone.

With no guide posts.

Listening only to whispers.

Hints, if you will.

Going where?

I wish I knew.

I only know I have to go there.

Or die of an empty heart in a grave of my own yearning.

Rock Path In The Mountains On A Misty Day
Categories
dreams inspiration Poetry self-discovery

Do Dreams Come True?

 

Dream Lovers Embracing

It could be the cover of a Romance Novel minus the photo shopping.

It could be a sexy man attempting to kiss a woman for the first time.

It could be a dream come true for both partners.

It could be anything, really, even a metaphor for life itself.

Is life a dream that all of us are dreaming?

Are we dreaming our own unique dreams within the big dream?

I think the answer is “yes.”

Do dreams come true?

I believe it depends upon the dreamer.  Does he or she believe the universe is a loving grantor of dreams?

Does he or she believe the universe will grant the dreams that come from the heart of all Being?

What price must we pay to realize our dreams?

The bigger the dream, the higher the price.

Is that the way it works?

Does there have to be a price?

How much talent is required?

Can it be simple?

Or does it have to be complicated?

Do we create our own reality?

Yes, I believe we do.

Consciously or unconsciously.

What happens when a dream is realized?

There is one simple answer.

It’s not rocket science.

When the dream is realized

We can enjoy it

Then

We must dream again.