Poisons to heal

A golden rocket posing for a postcard on Malibu Beach called my attention, though I had no use for a phallic object on wheels. I shifted the view of the temporal street walk: the same point in space, but twenty tears ahead. That was better; '76 was more interesting.

Back from our trip to a planet Wu-Wei, we reported intriguing facts. A barely sentient animal on this liquid planet dwells outside water. When it rains, instead of rejoicing as we would do, this creature deploys a shield called an umbrella to keep their heads dry.

A suede coat was on an oak chair. The air from outside was cold and sticky, humid. The city was sinister; dread invaded me. Just when the kettle whistled, the air raid alarms started. 

I opened my eyes.

“What have you seen?” the hypnotist asked.

“The day I died.”

The hotel was expensive, artistic, and impractical; it redefined the concept of fanciness. The bathtub was a carbon fiber hammock suspended from the walls.

“Don't you love it?”

“Give me a bucket of water and a sponge.”

The concierge scrunched up; my wife elbowed me.

The cyber cheetahs galumphed around the crumbling gas station. The penalty for jamming the machine drone was a stunt that machines won't let pass easily. Bad examples propagate fast among the h-sapiens.

The mirror wasn't lying; her body was outstanding. Her hands went down the curving hips while caressing the terse, smooth skin; a guilty flush arrested her. The mind implantation has been a success. The reincarnation worth every penny. 

“Quick, hold my hand and do what I say!” 

At first, she didn't take him seriously, but the sight of the shockwave changed her mind. Both said the right words with the intended emotion, and it worked: the time congealed. Ever since, they'd lived at the end of the world.

The doctor applied the neural stimulus; the needle stayed still. Her hands were warm, and her face expression showed peace, a false sense of acceptance. The doctor denied with his head, faking sorrow. But then, the needle trembled. She had returned.

The last software update read my thoughts to conjure a phantom to interact with, or more likely, to deceive me. The effect was pleasurable, even majestic; nevertheless, I promptly deleted such a feature. My thoughts must remain private, the last refuge of my imagination.

“Father, I've been coming to this church since my first communion, I’m devout--, y’know what I mean. But then I heard that the inferno may not exist, 'it’s all in our mind. You chose to live in hell,' y’know what I’m saying. Is it true? Father?--, hey, father?”

A collar made of tiny skulls embraced her neck defiantly. The intrigue was unbearable, so I asked her, “What does your collar symbolize?”

Her eyes glazed. “Every skull evokes a bad experience,” she paused and muttered, “I can always attach another experience.”

“All what you are about to see is a lie,” the subtext of which was: 'Something must be true about it.' The Chicago Central at noon was a place to sonder. When we activated the object, some people turned fuzzy, while others began to glow in pastel colors.

“I have something to confess,” the woman I picked up said.

“I'm listening.” 

I maneuvered to go off the thoroughfare to get gas.

“Pull over first.” Her eyes were glittering in the mirror, like a cat's. 

I turned the interior lights to see her face, but I was alone.

The abbot was a conjurer of demons, a reader of dictionaries and an alchemist of mild poisons. He told me this compelling story:

“A creature like a son of man came from the Garden of Eden, the nexus between unholy and sublime, the shadow of an Adama. His name was Adam.”

The plasma cyclone reached criticality, sucking the lunar compound into a miniature black hole. The event lasted less than the time human brains need to feel pain.  A crater was left behind, and a new universe popped up somewhere. Accidents happen.

Ready to dump onto her a shopping list of her faults, he called his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend.

“I dreamed with you often,” she said. “In my dreams, I like to visit the place where we met, but when I'm there, you never arrive. Why?”

That was enough to disarm his offensive.

Letter to myself: 

“Hey girl! When you read this, you’re going to be perplexed, so the AI will read this to you. Cheer up! You made it to Tau Ceti, our new home. The cryosleep slowed you down for some time, but it’s time to wake up. You're a woman now. We count on you.”

“Hello, I wanna deposit this money.” 

“Where does the money come from?” she asked, bored.

“I won in the Sumo fights,” the robot said. 

“Come back tomorrow. We're closed,” she said. 

“Damn humans! You're lucky that we keep some of you for these jobs nobody wants!”

Exobiologists said that Trapist 2 was ready for colonization, “Biological forms there are compatible with terrestrial life,” they assured us. After a few months, we were wiped out from the planet. Apparently, local pathogens don't need to transform to survive, we do.

Arthur had an accident, and he couldn't move anymore. Doctors were unable to save his body, so they put his brain in a prosthetic robot. After coming back, teachers told us not to make fun of him; being different isn’t bad. He’s the best soccer player we've ever had.

In a musty basement in downtown Madrid, Dr. Salvador Leon held a peculiar collection of antique artifacts, one of which was a mint cyclops’ skull; he said it was a legitimate thing.

Sadly, Dr. Leon and his collection vanished shortly afterward we met. 

She was seeking for his attention with blindfolded passion. He ignored her prayers, teasing the fire, igniting her anger. Once both surrender completely to the moment, only the ashes tell their story.

Before we learned how to explore time without the astronaut gear, we sent Mónica to collect samples of the old Imperial Wall just after the war ended. The radiation levels were too high for an extended exploration, so we had to abort the mission.

The endless fight in the hot, humid green lands of Paraguay, ended abruptly. 

The decapitated bodies of soldiers were hanging from trees, their heads ripped off. A glassy ghost was staring at me up in a tree; it did this. 

Sir Richard Burton never spoke of this event.

The metaverse: just in time to hide the real world's problems.

“These things ain't botanists.”

 “They forgot that baby alien in the forest because they were too busy kidnapping humans to exhibit in their planet's zoo.” 

“You could have exchanged that E.T. thing for our freedom instead of giving it back!” 

“Help us!”

The naturals, mongrels without enhancements, have taken seriously the ludicrous dream of governing themselves.

Not until the rebels landed in the orbital palace, the royal court acknowledged its lack of preparation.

The only solution: escape and nuke the palace.

“Soon they'll meet us, their nemesis.” 

“You promised revenge, but you only fed my anger,” she said, caressing his mechanical arm. “When, darling? When?” 

“Be patience, my love,” he grunted. “We'll arrive at their solar system in another decade.”

“You lead, and we'll follow,” someone whispered. 

“You shall keep your eyes closed all the time,” another voice said quietly. 

“But everybody must be hidden by now,” she said, “How am I going to find them blindfolded?”

“We'll guide you. Don't be afraid.” 

“Be afraid? Why?”

“Save your whispers of despair for more eventful days. I'll give a talisman to cure your illness and clear the fog that smeared your reasoning.” “What's the price.” “Your uninterrupted servitude, Balthazar, no more.”

In the darkness of a poorly lit room, I see singular wonders that no one else cares to see. 

I see a golden desert under a sapphire blue sky, and in each grain of sand, a distinct universe unfolds its ephemeral drama.

Close your eyes, and observe.

By noon, the day was hot. Joshua pointed to me a vehicle of some sort in our corn field, and soon after we found them. So, I said, “It's a good time for a break,” and we headed home. That's the story. 

“That's weird, honey.” 

“They like chocolate. That ain't weird.”

My shell, a sturdy piece, protected me while marched behind the enemy lines; radiation peaked when I approached ground zero, and it started to sting me. On that day, I was an involuntary angel of death, walking on the desolated fields of Armageddon.

The neural stimulus showed me all those worlds where I could have been born. I had to move on. Hence, I went to the company's rooftop, and I jumped. 

After I learned to fly, it was easy.

That wasn't the end; it was the beginning.

Early in my research, I stumbled upon a curious quote from a long forgotten civilization: “In the end, I only wish to have had more time to read.” 

Ever since, I stopped caring about trivialities, and I read all the books I found. 

Peace lives within me. 

That's enough.

Signing up for this gig in the freighter Nostromo was not the most difficult part, but convincing them to let me bring Jonesy with me was the real dealbreaker. 

We would have survived if we had let it search for its own prey.

When I opened my eyes, people were staring at me from above, witnessing of my struggle, expectant to pass judgement; maniac gods; referees from an indolent world from which I've been outcasted.

When the race was over, only one player excelled; a superior athlete; an example for the society. His ego would be crowded by the gold medal. 

A few years later, he would be found guilty of human trafficking. He is in jail now, remembering better times. 

The last present from my boyfriend was a small living creature from his biolab. 

It has the brain of a cat, so demands attention at all times, but also has the heart of a little boy, so he longs for a mother. He believes that it's funny, but I think it's sad.

Longing to disconnect, he tried the pill, but it was a mistake. Since then, regularities aren't certain anymore: clocks ticks faster, birds are frozen in the air, and people come from planar surfaces to hunt him. 

He now lives within realities.

When I started my voyage, I didn't foresee being stranded on the swamp planet, so yes, I did cry then, but that didn't improve my situation. 

Nowadays, I find calm in my solitude and happiness in my despair.

When we arrived, I showed her the glorious sunrise on the horizon of my nebulous planet, our future home. Then, I proposed to her, but she ignored me. Mesmerized by the view, she had cut off the radio link to enjoy the moment.

I'll find another time.

People were moving down there at the pool, as insects crawling around the feet of an indolent giant; I was the giant. Girls were giggling down below, full of envy. I felt empowered, though I'm not a fan of heights.

For a timeless moment, I was alive.

My anticipation grew when, coming out of the nebulous incongruities of this gas giant, I saw the first signs of the citadel in the clouds, as real as it can be. My quest for knowledge had been an odyssey, but I had arrived at my final destination, or that I thought.

The arboreal inhabitants of the third planet I visited mimic children. Their faces are non-functional since, being telepathic, they need no eyes nor ears; they breathe through all their skin, and feed doing photosynthesis. They require tons of water, though.