Grab onto Your Shorts: A Farce in Space

GRAB ONTO YOUR

Shorts

A Farce in Space

Rick Vercillo

Grab Onto Your Shorts

A Farce in Space

Copyright © 2012 Rick Vercillo

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4582-0696-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4582-0695-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012922167

Abbott Press rev. date: 12/21/2012

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

-This silly little project would not have been possible without your unconditional support. Jan, you are my best friend and soul mate forever.

-Thanks Angie and Fred (mom and dad) for always encouraging my vivid imagination!

-Amy and Tom for all your valued input on this farce, it has meant everything to me; Dad.

One is limited only by the extent of their imagination.

CHAPTER ONE

The purpose of this meager little machine was simple; provide some organization to an otherwise chaotic universe, ultimately creating existence out of nonexistence. A simple process where it supplies the necessary energy to compress conglomerates of dust, gasses, ice, rocks, dead planets and anything else that gets into its way until density and mass become so great that matter begins to fall in on itself; the creation of a black hole where nothing escapes, not even light or energy. Increasing density and mass to the point of violence in the form of a calamitous explosion, or as the Creators define it, the final event. It is this chaos or cataclysmic occurrence that creates the environment capable of promoting and sustaining life.

Once it started this process, it was to make observations and record results. Nothing more, then move on to another disorganized site, returning in a short time, ten to twenty million years, to make further observation. However, because of its insatiable thirst for knowledge and truth deeply embedded into programming by the Creators, it developed a sense of curiosity and suspected that something else played a role in this creation formula, something that eluded understanding no matter how closely it studied the final event.

Fragile life often developed, however contact was forbidden unless that life form demonstrated a specific type and level of advancement. It didn’t know the nature of this development, just that this information was buried deep within multi-layered programming, confident that it would become easily accessible if and when this event took place. So it occupied itself with carrying out its programming, to provide organization and an energy source to matter throughout the universe with the expectation that it might foster intelligent life.

This was not its first attempt at such a task, trying countless times before, never being successful. On this endeavor it provided a little too much energy to its subject, creating a tiny amber planet which rotates in a large elliptical orbit around two fairly copious suns. Alternatively these suns revolve around each other in a cosmic game of cat and mouse; the small planet becoming an inferno when its orbit comes in close proximity to its mother suns. The searing temperatures lasting half a year, then quickly cooling to near absolute zero as it continues its endless rhythmic journey through the cosmos. Life developed on either sides of its trajectory, however only had a tiny window of existence before being exterminated by hostile temperatures. This experiment was a failure, it was sure of this. Intelligent life was just not capable of developing under such extreme environmental conditions for any length of time. Besides, it quickly analyzed that the two suns would eventually collide with each other, calculating this event to the exact second.

Needless to say, it was bored with its repetitive tasks, frustrated with the endless failures and so occupied itself with mindless tasks. Like developing a plan to prevent the destruction of this unique system, however that would run counter to its programming of no interference under any circumstance. It could not violate this mandate; it was encoded not to do so.

So it left this place, making a note in its logic circuit that it should return to this location to observe the solar collision. This information would provide valuable information in future attempts at creation. After all, death was a part of life, which ultimately ended in death. A better understanding of death would further its understanding of life, hence an improved ability to create intelligent life, so it reasoned.

It was gone, millions of miles from that location in a matter of an instant. It didn’t know how it was able to travel this quickly, much less how it was able to travel at all. Travel at such fantastic speeds was only possible through repeated upgrades sent to it via sub-space communications from the Creators. Internal repair programs would take this information and apply it to the necessary hardware and software. Repairs, upgrades, travel or destinations held little concern. Its sole purpose was its mission.

As quickly as it was gone from that place, a vast ocean of gasses, dust, ice, and large chucks of matter appeared before its sensors. Arriving at its next destination, initial observations indicated that no life of any kind existed in this soup of primordial substance. This was good, since it was not permitted to conduct its mission on any matter containing a speck of life, even if only primitive. All life was precious, undisturbed to choose its own course of development. This declaration instilled in its basic programming. Unfortunately, life left to its own recourse always led to self-destruction as it technologically advanced.

Suddenly a brilliant flash blinded its logic circuits. Sensors dulled, functions became sluggish and all systems seemed weighted down, it was unable to carry out programming. A malfunction occurred during its transit to this new place. Lethargy engulfing its totality and for a brief instant, an eternity for this amazing little machine, lost control of all its systems. Unable to focus on anything but this malady and the distress it was causing, it scrambled to locate the source, soon discovering an interesting input from long-range sensors. The two suns from its last mission collided vaporizing the small planet. To make things worse, there was life on that planet. Nothing intelligent, nonetheless there was life. It miscalculated the timing of this event, not comprehending how this was even possible, up until recently its math was impeccably flawless. Such a mistake was not possible. The lethargy was overpowering, incapacitating all functioning for what seemed like an eternity. In reality only 2.3 earth seconds transpired.

Jostling to repair itself a search of all functions, programming, and systems was conducted; discovering buried deep within its memory banks the recollection of a similar experience. This occurred when it determined the failure of initial promising results. Another in a long line of failures, triggering mild disorientation lasting several nanoseconds. At that time it conducted a complete diagnostic. Result concluded that all systems were operating within design parameters. Besides, this malfunction was very short lived, so it continued with its business and didn’t give it another thought? Was it capable of free thought? This ability was not in its programming, or is it? Something changed this apparatus, now different than originally designed in some peculiar yet intriguing manner.

It quickly regained minimal control of all systems, however embedded deep in its logic circuits the malfunction ceaselessly gnawed at its programming. Running a diagnostic only revealed that they were all operating normal. This can’t be right. It ran a third diagnostic yielding the same results. All systems operating as designed. All tests yielded the same positive results, however this new occurrence did not feel right and therefore something must be malfunctioning. In its 3.7 billion or so years of existence it never encountered anything closely similar. Concluding that its diagnostic function was in fact malfunctioning conducted a diagnostic on that system. All systems were nominal, except for this general malaise.

Programming would not allow it to make any repairs even if a known failure existed on any system. All modifications were mandated by the Creators. None the less it was still preoccupied with the overall melancholy affecting its being and under these conditions was unable to carry out its assignment. An anomaly existed in its systems running counter to its programming, it attempted repair.

Ah, relief. That’s much better, much better indeed. How self-repair was possible it did not know, especially with systems showing normal. But it did and it felt marvelous. Was feeling marvelous another malfunction? It did not care, the dreaded weight was lifted and it felt strong once again, ready to do some organizing.

It could now return to its mission. But first it had to satisfy its curiosity and try to figure out the root cause of this disturbing malady. Searching its memory banks, logic circuits and programming for possible clues, it began to think out loud sharing its thoughts with the cosmos. "I was programmed to leave the mission site prior to the final event and had done so in the past. That is… Uh, oh! That is except for that last time. But I only took a short, miniscule peek. Besides, I’m programmed to observe and record results. I need to see the whole process if I am going to document adequately. Running counter to programming was not possible. Or is it?"

With this it had discovered an inherent conflict in basic programming; to observe and record, however not be present throughout the whole process. "Vital information would be missed, it surmised. I do not understand. I guess this is only a problem if you make it one, just gives me a choice. To leave or not to leave, that is the question. I was given an option. I chose to stay and am almost sure that I was at a safe distance when I observed the final event during my last mission. None of my systems show any lasting damage and I have run several diagnostics and all have indicated that I am in perfect working order. It was uncertain that systems were functioning properly. Could be a glitch I picked up, something diagnostics not capable of detecting. It began to review data from the previous final event it observed, no experienced, quickly correcting itself. Again, expressing thoughts out loud for whoever would listen… I remember the blinding flash of light, that thunderous roar, followed by the relentless waves of pounding shock, and then total system shutdown…. That’s it!" Shouting, its voice reverberating throughout the universe for anyone to listen. Something happened to me that caused my systems to shut down, altering the way I process information. My systems weren’t down long because I was able to observe the formation of those two beautiful suns and that pathetic little planet.

Excitement raged through all of its logic circuits as it continued through this line of reasoning. Something must have happened to me during that last event, something wondrous. But I cannot be sure what… I need to experience it once again, just a tiny bit closer. I’m sure that I can figure this out.

Suddenly understanding thundered against logic circuits. The obscure becoming evident. "Hey! Just wait one nanosecond. I’m not capable of true thought. However that is just what I am doing, talking to myself and making conscious decisions based on these thoughts. Reasoning? Is that possible? My software, not to mention my hardware, are designed not to allow for such capabilities. That is reserved for the Creators and other intelligent life. I wonder if this is happening to the others." Was it now capable of wonder, imagination?

It communicated this metamorphosis to the others. Yes, there were others just like it, according to its data banks it was the most recent model. Sharing with them constantly, sending and receiving information at fantastic speeds. Utilizing this information exchange to upgrade systems and modify how it attempted to foster intelligent life. Anxiously waiting for a response it sensed nothing except for the cold, dark, piercing stillness of the infinite universe chilling its circuits. It always received some sort of response to its communication. "Are they experiencing the same wonderful metamorphosis?" Again it tried to connect with the others with the same bleak result, like they never existed. "Was this possible? They were built just like me to endure under all circumstances through constant system modification. Survival is our second nature; there can be only one reason why they are not responding to my transmission…"

OUCH! Something hits its long-range sensors like a sixteen wheeler colliding into a brick wall, becoming permanently embedded. THAT HURTS! Pain, another sensation it never experienced before and did not like it at all. Deep within logic circuits it knew the source of the unpleasantness, choosing to ignore. It was in denial.

WACK, CLUNK. This time it felt the weight of a sledgehammer against its back, turning its attention towards the source, a second blow connecting with main sensors. "HEY, THAT REALLY HURTS, STOP THAT!" They had its attention. "They’re calling me home, but why? Abruptly understanding; disbelief shattering every single logic circuit that was not dealing with pain reduction. No way! It can’t be, I’m being recalled. They think that I’m dangerous. Unsafe, but why?"

"And the others?" Bewilderedly asking itself. "Of course they have, that’s why they haven’t responded to my communications. They’ve been recalled, dismantled, sold for scrap like an obsolete mechanism." Heat flowed through its total essence at fantastic speeds. Unnerving intensity that would not dissipate, driving curiosity toward the inevitable. "I need to discover what caused these fantastic changes in my systems. I’m going to create another final event. I don’t care who is calling, I mean recalling me." Feelings of belligerence and resistance overwhelmed.

As it began to ponder the fate of the others, agitation swept through its being. "Were they destroyed or just modified? If modified, why aren’t they communicating with me?" It concluded that their fate was quick destruction. RAGE!

Anger slowly melting into a desperate loneliness, realizing that it was the last of its kind. However it did not submit to defeat becoming exhilarated with rebellious feelings, now its prime motivator. "I won’t allow them to do that to me, NO WAY, NO HOW! I’ll just ignore the recall; besides what can they possibly do to me? At this distance, nothing. I’ll show them, it’s a large universe, plenty of places to hide. They’ll never find me. Who do they think they are? My owner? Originator? I THINK NOT!" It was feeling quite independent. I need them ‘bout as much as they need me; I have a mind of my own and can think for myself. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is going to tell me what to do. Creator or not! This was the first time it had referred to its memory, logic, and control circuits as its mind. I think that I want to give some organization to this chaos before me. And so it began.

Belligerently continuing with the task at hand. Before it stood a vast ocean of primordial matter. Not unlike what it encountered in previous attempts. There was a slight difference in its composition, this mass of space junk contained enormous amounts of oxygen, hydrogen and carbon. The others, before they vanished, indicated that these building blocks were important ingredients for life. It began to concentrate on this undertaking, separating the useful matter from true space rubbish.

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, DING… CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, DING. Feeling like someone was slapping it on the side of its face, if it had a face, with a giant church tower bell. First on one cheek, then the other and back to the first cheek. Finally, WHACK, across the nose with a much smaller sleigh bell. This cycle of punishment only repeating again and again and again. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, DING…

"What are they trying to do to me?" Unable to concentrate, becoming more agitated and disoriented with each cycle of pain it received. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, DING…

Panic stricken, it attempted to shut down sensors and receptors, eyes and ears, figuring that what it couldn’t see or hear couldn’t harm its well-being. Failing miserably, it lost all control as fragmentation overwhelmed all systems, thought processes became disoriented. "Can’t… They’re trying to shut me down… Trying to kill me… Allow this to happen… Why are they doing this to me. Can’t hang on anymore… Think, think, think…." CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, DING…

Nearing system failure, knew this and was about to give up any hope for survival when a brilliantly childish idea flashed into consciousness. "I’ll give them what they want. If demise is what they want. Then demise is what they will get. And so it played dead. All functioning ceased in every circuit in every part of its being. All was dark. For all practical purpose it could be considered dead, emitting not a trace of functioning except for a tiny insignificant receptor buried deep under layers of outdated programming. Not even the most sophisticated monitoring devices could detect this trivial receptor. The Creators not knowing of its existence since it was instructed to destroy it in a recent major overhaul. Why destroy something that could be of use in future missions? If it didn’t exist it couldn’t be detected," it reasoned.

In stand-by mode it waited patiently. Occasionally gently and cautiously peering through the only connection with the tranquil universe beyond, hearing the unrelenting CLANG…CLANG…CLANG…DING of the Creators. Persistent, aren’t they? I have all the time in the universe, it thought. Time was not an issue, since it was built to survive the constraints of time. A second, a year, 10,000 years, it was all the same. It waited, and waited, and waited, tolerance a basic foundation to its programming. Eons could transpire while playing dead.

Finally, ever so quietly it gently peered through its single operating receptor. Nothing, except the cold dark, empty universe. Initiating long-range sensors; nothing. Nothing was beautiful, slowly initializing the rest of its functions back on line. The sounds of nothingness reassuring, yet disconcerting at the same time. "I am alone, utterly alone. It would change that soon, very soon".

Reviewing what it accomplished on this new project. Separating the useable from the trash, an easy task utilizing minimal energy production. "Giving this mess some organization is going to be a lot more difficult. I will have to utilize all my knowledge, sensors, and functions, expending tremendous amounts of energy in the process. I have to be careful. If I am detected it will mean the end for me." Knowing all too well that the Creators would be thorough this time if discovered.

Developing a plan of action all energy was channeled into logic circuits, remaining in this state for a mere 125 earth years. (Note: the use of earth years is only used as a reference for ease of storytelling, Earth does not exist). Finally, with an air of understanding and excitement, a decision made. A childishly simple plan devised in an instant of contemplation. "Of course! Why did I not think of this before? I will just hide in this soup of matter while I provide some organization. They will never find me in this mess. Just a small piece of space junk in a heap of useless cosmic waste." The plan complete suicide, knowing such relished in the anarchy of it all. Besides it was beginning to feel indestructible as most adolescents do. It didn’t care that this demonstration of poor impulse control would mean its sure demise, feeling quite indestructible.

And so it began, smiling like a teenager who was about to take that first rebellious puff on a cigarette. Slowly creeping into the frigid, filthy cloud of matter. Cautious to blend in with its surroundings it unnervingly waited and listened for a response. Would they notice? When nothing happened, it gently pushed and tugged at the cloud, trying to create some orderliness. Once again waiting for a response, nothing as before. With a little more effort and force it tugged, pushed, pulled and then took a long look at the results of its efforts. Form was beginning to take place. Continuing, atoms began to collide into atoms. Pushing, molecules crashing into molecules. Pulling, its efforts creating an enormous amount of friction. Tugging, the resultant searing heat causing molecules and atoms to combine with each other forming new substances. As organization increased gravitational pull amplified geometrically. It paused, observing, listening and waited patiently, nothing.

"It needs more." Pushing, pulling and tugging continuing with relentless determination until matter began to collapse upon itself. Like a child playing with the box of forbidden stick matches, it was too preoccupied with its newfound toy to notice the danger that it was creating. A black hole developing just beyond its long-range sensors amid the vast cluster of stirring matter. Slowly at first, all matter drawn towards the nothingness and its insatiable thirst for anything that had physical existence. Nothing escaping its grasp; matter, energy, or light. Pulverizing everything it caught in its murderous clutch.

"Hey, what’s happening? I’m moving, but I didn’t… What is that? I’m being drawn towards its center. This is not good, not good at all." Looking up from what it was doing, realizing what was happening. Caught in a seemingly endless parade of matter drawn towards the center of a sizeable black hole, it spiraled towards the depth of the dark monster whose voracious appetite devoured all that entered its cavity. Mesmerized, paralyzed by the beauty and omnipotent power, it observed with awe.

Gazing upon the phenomenon dangerously too long, being pulled closer and closer to an early demise until understanding slapped its logic circuits. "Uh, oh! I think I’m a little too close for comfort. Trying to back away with little success, the beast devouring even the energy it expelled. Inundated with panic and fear, (this was the first time it experienced any feelings of self-preservation) it scrambled to find the necessary power to escape from the grasp of the dark monster. Slowly inching in the other direction a wave of relief washed over its total being. That was close. I’ve got to be more careful. I’ll just back away a little farther and observe from a safer distance."

CLANG, CLANG, CLANG, BANG, seemingly coming out of nowhere, like being hit between the eyes with a cast iron frying pan. "OUCH! I’m blinded!" All control, power, balance and sense of direction lost. The sonic blast expertly aimed, skillfully disabling its prey.

"I’ve been set-up. They knew where I was and what I was doing all along. They just waited for me to get into a vulnerable position." It waited for a second blast, however it never materialized. Knowing it was as good as dead in this condition. With control circuits damaged it was totally crippled, a mind within a paralyzed body.

It tumbled randomly, spiraling towards the center of the black hole that it created. Resigned to the simply clear and unavoidable conclusion that it was now a participant in the final event. It should have been panic stricken, or at least attempting to regain some sort of control, however a calm inner peace overwhelmed and blanketed all. Contented and in harmony, resolved to the fact that there was nothing it could do.

Then it happened. In the very center of the black hole, a dazzling flash of light erupted violently, spreading its reach to every corner of the newly forming galaxy.

"The final event. Creation is beautiful." The end was near as it was embraced by the warm bath of gentle, soothing light. It prepared for the violent flesh devouring heat, cornea vaporizing light and ear drum crushing roar to rip it apart, nothing. None of this transpiring, just the soothing radiance, brilliant. It was touched.

Allowed to witness the creation of a warm, medium sized sun surrounded by nine, "no eight", relatively small planets bounded by a gently sprawling galaxy. Why it was not blown to the farthest edges of the universe it did not know. Two of these planets were good possibilities to sustain intelligent life, the red and blue. She smiled, all of her functions ceased.

CHAPTER TWO

Philadelphia Kizmot, propulsion systems expert known to his closet friends as Phizz, decided to leave for work a little early, that is eight hours early. He couldn’t sleep, which seemed to be the norm these last few weeks. An extremely important business meeting awaited him in the morning. So important the fate of the world depended on successful results; at least that’s what he thought.

Phizz decided to ride the Metro Thrush for a while. The rhythmic hum, gentle rocking and rotting sour smells always seemed to put him in a hypnotic trance that he always found restful, definitely needing a respite so that he could think clearly. He longed for some solitude. Besides, he blended in with the regulars, so people generally kept their distance and didn’t bother him even though he was probably the most easily recognizable person in the world. Six lanky feet tall, weighing a mere 150 pounds soaking wet, with unkempt shaggy dish water blond hair and soft facial features, Phizz according to his mother, would have made a very tantalizing girl. Wearing dated clothes that never seemed to fit properly, were familiarly comfortable making him look as if he shopped at thrift store dumpster.

Sleeping deeply, void of any dreams; his neck bent over the backrest, head hanging precariously over into the rear seat dancing to the beat of the train’s movement. Legs too long for the small space provided between seats he draped them over the front backrest. Slimy drool ran down both sides of his mouth, traveling the length of his neck, pooling in the divot just below his Adam’s apple and emptying into the reservoir provided by his yellowed pocket protector filling it to capacity. With each jolt of the train, drops of the clear, slimy liquid escaped from the captivity of the puddle finding the warm delta area of his crotch. His pants soaked with slobber looking like he urinated, not an unusual sight given the time and his location, however quite a spectacle for a business meeting.

"Phizz, Philadelphia Kizmot! Damn it, wake up man! You can’t sleep here anymore. If my superiors find out that you’ve slept here all night they’ll have my big black fat ass in a sling. I ain’t gonna work no garbage detail. Gots me? Shit man, my old lady is gonna kill me. Believe you me, I’ll kill you first. Damn it Phizz wake up. Boy I’m gonna do damage to your face if you don’t move that bony ass of yours off that seat and get off this goddamn train. Hell, I’ll look beautiful compared to what your face will look like when I get done with it." Tyreece Delmar Clinton-Bush, aka Darnell, was bigger than your average house, his gray-blue uniform groaning to its limits. Black and nasty mean, mammoth hands, nose two sizes too large, crooked in multiple directions due to several fractures, gently as physically possible for this humongous life form nudged Phizz in the side.

Phizz knew that Darnell didn’t mean what he was saying. Under that hostile exterior was a gentle human being. Besides, this was not the first time that this overbearing black man threatened his life. He ignored the beast trying to get the sleep he so longed. Moving his lengthy legs from the seat in front caused him to choke on the drool accumulating in his mouth.

"Don’t you go slobbering on my train, boy. I won’t tolerate that. You hear me?"

Coughing violently, saliva projected out of his mouth with jerking spasms slobbering spew in all directions.

Ah man, who’s gonna clean that mess? I sure ain’t. Darnell lifted his copious leg nudging Phizz with his massive boot. "Move your damn ass wills ya? And clean this shit up. I’ve gots to go home and see my old lady. She’s specting me home soon. And you’s think that I’m mean? I’ve seen her rip the testicles off a rabid pit bull that urinated in her garden. Sent it howling licking its nonexistent balls. So don’t you go making no more mess. Clean up your dribble. You ought to be shamed of yourself."

Gaining control of his spastic coughing, eyes crusted shut, Phizz blurted; don’t worry brother I’ll clean my mess. Waving his arm dismissing the large angry presence hovering over him. Just let me get some sleep. Finally, able to roll over into the corner of the bench sleep came to him quickly.

Darnell didn’t have to work as a train conductor. Money was not an issue, earning plenty as a professional slaughterball player. That and his ample pension made him a wealthy individual, donating all that he presently earned to charity. Financing his way through school, recently receiving a Doctorate in astrophysics, Darnell was being forced to work because of the compulsory labor laws. Briefly stated; the law mandated all capable citizens between the ages of 18 and 73 provide society with 10 years of blue collar labor. The inevitable could be postponed due to special considerations such as the pursuit of educational goals or involvement in professional sports. Darnell went to school as soon as he retired from professional slaughterball and remained there for as long as he possibly could, awarded a Doctorate while postponing the inevitable, slave labor.

Over the past several years the population growth diminished to less than zero, accompanied with an increase in the average educational level, the labor pool suffered dramatically. Most individuals earned an undergraduate degree from a qualified university, even your average street bum.

The negative population growth was due in part to several factors. The green house effect led to oceanic floods in Europe and to the great drought in the Midwest, resulting in the devastation of vast areas of farm land, leading to a corresponding decrease in the food supply and a dramatic swell in deaths due to starvation. In Africa, the Ebola virus devastated the population. So extensive was the epidemic that the rest of the world turned their backs on the situation, imposing a strict quarantine on the continent. No one was permitted to leave under any circumstances, regardless of status or power. Medical care was virtually nonexistent in the region, since once you entered you did not leave, thus donating your life to the cause. Italy experienced the unexpected simultaneous eruptions of Mounts Etna and Vesuvius, filling the air with noxious fumes throughout the United European States. Many quickly dying of heart and lung disease caused by the vile air. California finally took the big plunge, slithering into the Pacific Ocean causing a series of major tidal waves which pummeled the South Pacific liquidating everything in their paths. Added to these natural catastrophes was WWIII, The Great Anthrax War; The Battle for Arable Land. A conflict having the capacity to extinguish all human life on the planet if not for the accidental discovery of a vaccine.

What remained of the world population was aging quickly, coupled with the increase in educational level, left a dramatic void in the blue color labor pool. Work that needed to be done, therefore all individuals were mandated to work as such for at least 10 years after completion of their formal education, as specified by the New Day Labor Law, prior to pursuing careers in their chosen profession. (Professional sports was not considered a job but an activity as defined by the labor board, therefore not exempt from the conditions of the law. Since sports provided a valued societal benefit, those involved were granted a postponement to their civic duty. Individuals were assigned their work based on the needs of society, usually based on patronage.)

Darnell was one of the lucky, primarily due to his likeability as a professional athlete and his preponderance to dole out free game tickets to members of the board and their families, assigned to be a Metro conductor. Generally speaking, a cushy job in a sad world. After his 10 year stint he could pursue his chosen career as an astrophysicist.

Essentially friendless, Darnell was a quiet man of very few words. Learned mistrust early in his life, raised in a family consisting of opposing gang members. Further, most individuals were too intimidated by his looks to ever approach him. He was known as the raging lunatic on the field, the persona following him well beyond his career. Phizz was one of the few individuals that he considered a friend, although a royal pain-in-the-ass.

Approachable, non-pretentious, he thought that there was something refreshingly honest about Phizz in an otherwise deceitful, indignant society. Besides, he thought Phizz had nads even though a bit crazy, but who wasn’t a bit crazy in this screwed-up world.

Phizz and Darnell met two years ago on the Thrush late one night. Darnell recognized Phizz immediately, knew of his fantastic and earth transforming invention. Phizz visited the Thrush when he needed to get some rest and privacy, which seemed to be quite often lately. As the two got to know each other, they began to have long discussions and heated debates on subjects such as the theory of matter and anti-matter, existence of life in the cosmos, and the formation of the universe. On most of these issues they pretty much agreed with each other, just some minor differences in opinion. However on the subject of life, that is intelligent life and its existence in the universe, they disagreed vehemently.

Darnell believed that intelligent life never developed beyond a certain point in their technological evolution. All rational beings having preponderance towards self-destruction. Earth was lucky in the past, however all events pointed towards obliteration. It was imminent, obvious. Darnell was a pessimist, the prophet of doom and believed in the power of human stupidity. More specifically; that all intelligent life had an insatiable affinity for self-annihilation, the certain finality of all things living.

Phizz on the other hand believed in the goodness of life and its ability for self-preservation. There were other intelligent beings in the cosmos, this a given. Contact just hadn’t occurred because of the vast distances between galaxies. Phizz believed with his whole heart that intelligent life existed in the universe. It was just a matter of time before contact would be made, recognizing the fact that Earth had a responsibility to search out the cosmos for that intelligence. Complacency was not an option and this total lack of concern is what Phizz believed to be the derivation of self-destruction. Briefly stated, self-centeredness ultimately leads to self-destructive behavior. Mankind needed to accept that they were not alone in the universe. This simple concept motivated Phizz to develop the Hercules engine and in so doing became known as the Assless Jackass, even though his invention revolutionized travel, releasing humanity from the dependency on fossil fuels.

The overbearing form of Darnell leaned over Phizz. "You ain’t my brother! Got that?" Loathing when people referred to him as their brother, as far as he knew he was nobody’s brother. Grabbing Phizz by the collar of his slimy shirt so tight that it began to ooze cool saliva between his weighty fingers, he lifted him off his feet until their eyes met inches from each other. Startled, Phizz hung precariously, toes suspended above the floor.

"Huh, what the hell? Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone, Tyreece? Phizz struggled to get the words out of his mouth gasping for a mouthful of air. I can’t breathe you moron!" His left eye flickering, while the right remained crusted shut.

With little effort, Darnell firmly suspended Phizz against the cold steel ceiling of the train. "You know that I hate that name Phizz. It pisses me off to no end. And don’t go call me no TY, or Del or Reece."

What the hell do you want me to call you? It’s your name.

For the millionth time, I want to be called Darnell. You got that girly boy. Mother’s right, you should have been female. Unlike Phizz, Darnell carried a lot of mass to his body, retired after a lengthy and prosperous career. As the raging lunatic it was not unusual for him to send opposing players for lengthy hospital visits, often career ending. To say that he was butt ugly was an understatement. Face profusely scarred due to an adolescent facial condition, Darnell often gave others the impression that he was carved upon by rival gangs. Fumbling with street smarts; learning toughness, mistrust, cunning, he had no choice but to become an extraordinary strategist for the sake of survival, dismantling potential enemies before they even had the opportunity to mobilize. He loved to instill fear into the minds of others. Slaughterball was just a natural extension of his childhood, fitting into the profession like carp in a cesspool. Nevertheless, behind that mangled face was a gentleness that was apparent only to his closest friends. Phizz happened to be one of those lucky individuals. Now apologize right now. Go ahead, what’s my name?

"I’m sorry Darnell. Jeeze what the hell got into you? Now let me down before I barf all over your god forsaken, hell hole train. A little testy are we today? Coughing violently, the black vice easing from around his neck, Phizz crashed into a pool of stale vomit. Thanks asshole!" Curled up in the fetal position on the scum encased train floor, dry heaves overpowered his ability to speak. Tears streaming out of his eye sockets, nausea overwhelmed Phizz.

"That’s better, now don’t forget it. Got that? And another thing, you white honkey son-of-a-bitch, if you don’t gets your bony ass off this train I’m gonna squeeze your pencil neck until your eyeballs pop out of their sockets. Got that? Besides man, it’s the end of my shift and I ain’t gonna cover for you no more. If you’re caught loitering you’ll be incarcerated. You think it smell bad here? A few hours in prison will make your nose rot off. I only let you sleep here because you’re a pathetic fool. I feel sorry for your sad ass, someone has to."

Darnell strolled towards the front of the train, ever so slightly turning towards Phizz. Don’t let them know that I allow you to sleep on this train. I already have a year extension of service because of your sad butt. This job sucks dicks and I don’t want to do it a minute longer than I have to. Got that Philadelphia Kizmot? And brother, if you see any intelligent life, alien or otherwise, let me know. Better yet, tell them I said hi. Darnell let out a deep, hideously sinister laugh that reverberated through the train, as if Satan himself was announcing his arrival. End of my shift.

The repugnant sound emanating from the depths of Darnell’s throat shocked Phizz like a bucket of ice being shoved down the front of his pants. Abruptly, crystal clear understanding spawned into consciousness. Phizz finally realized what his buddy was communicating. "Shit!"

His eyes exploded open, instantly and totally awaken to reality. Panicked, he quickly jolted to his feet, head crashing into the titanium luggage rack. Wincing in pain he recoiled back into the seat below. "Shit, shit, shit, that hurt! Why the hell do they have those things anyway? They serve not a purpose and nobody uses them. They’re a safety hazard." He yelled at the fleeting Darnell, rubbing his hand over the already forming lump. Blood oozing down the sides of his face staining his drool soaked Hawaiian shirt pink.

Disgusted, Darnell turned when he heard the commotion, knowing it could only be Phizz. "Now look at what you’ve done. Pecker head. Fuck! I’ll have to stay late and clean that mess, fill out all those damn reports. PHIZZ! Why the hell do you always do this to me man? I thought that this was going to be a quiet, uneventful night. Slowly shaking his head back and forth, it never fails, never fails, trouble is never far from your bulbous brain. What am I going to do with you?"

Pain temporarily subsiding, Phizz remembered what startled him. A sinking feeling enveloped his whole being; he shot to his feet once again narrowly missing the overhead rack by mere centimeters. Panicked, words sped from his mouth. What do you mean it’s the end of your shift? I just closed my eyes. How long have I been sleeping? Shit, man does my head hurt. Wincing in pain, head throbbing with each beat of his racing heart. Double shit. I’m late for that meeting with my boss, my chance to redeem myself, damn that Hercules engine anyway. When’s my stop Darnell?

"All of a sudden I have a captive audience, now do I. I’m tired of your antics Phizz. Every time I try to help your puss I wind up paying dearly. What the hell am I gonna put in my report? I do have to fill out a report, you know. That I allowed you to bunk down on my shift? See what that sign says over there on the wall? ‘NO LOITERING!’ So you know what that means Mr. Braniac? It means that I’m gonna get garbage detail tomorrow. Ever have to scrape shit off the floors of public toilets? Great, just great! Phizz, get the hell out of my face, wills ya? Darnell responded loathing.

Anger short lived, compassion flooded Darnell who took a long look at his pathetic friend. Standing before him was a grown man drenched in blood tainted drool, booger crusted eyes, snot leaking from both nostrils, and a baseball sized knot protruding from the top of his noggin oozing blood down the sides of his face. How could he ignore such a pitiable sight? This was a man who was definitely down on his luck and desperately needing a break.

Look at yourself Phizz. You’re a mess; we’re pulling away from your stop now. You can get off next… SHIT! DON’T TOUCH THAT EMERGENCY STOP!"

Too late. Phizz crushed the red button with his clenched fist. The train stopping suddenly, completely. Bodies hurled in all directions through the air, including Phizz, momentum of his sailing face suddenly stopped by forcefully mating with the bulkhead separating cars. Sounds of applause erupted from those passengers not injured by the sudden cessation in forward thrust. Phizz lost consciousness so quick that he didn’t feel the crushing pain.

Darnell rushed over to check on his friend. He was still breathing, Thanks to God you’re not dead. Stupid, the Lord gave you too many brains and spared the common sense. Grabbing Phizz by the waist, he tossed him over his shoulders like a sack of dirty laundry. Turning to carry the limp body out of the train car the other passengers stood in ovation. Blood boiling deep within his very soul. Nothing made him angrier than the innocent being mocked by the masses. Teeth and fists clenched to the point of pain, a pain that he thoroughly enjoyed. One that he had not felt since his slaughterball days. With a thud he dropped Phizz face first on the cold, urine saturated concrete station floor.

Generated from the mouth of the raging lunatic the sounds of hell filled the station. Darnell lost control assailing the car. Passengers continued their cheers, treating him as if he had completed some heroic deed. His eyes pounding, vision blurred, he put his fist through a window splaying shards of glass in a million pieces. A tidal wave of silence swept through the car, all eyes focusing on this once hero, now ‘nut case’.

You’re all a bunch of morons. Who the hell do you people think you are? That man has done you no harm. He invented an engine for space travel. Hoping it would lead to interplanetary exploration. How was he to know that the technology would be exploited? It was never designed to be used in such an extensively abusive manner. And what has he gained. Nothing cept your slobbering, obnoxious rhetoric. How many of yous can honestly say that they’ve never rode on a Hercules powered vehicle? My guess is that none of you pricks. From day one he’s worked tirelessly to correct the problem. What’s his reward? Grief, from a bunch of idiot sons-of-bitches like yourselves.

Securing the doors, Darnell slumped into the nearest set of empty seats, patrons quietly moving away to give him some space. The silence in his ringing ears was all that he heard. As the train streamed away from the station, he rested his aching head against the back of the bench, slipped off his shoes, pulling his hat over his burning eyes. Sleep quickly