WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE

A marooned scientist’s unusual collaboration with the inhabitants of a lonely planet offers each something unexpected to take away from the experience

Doctor Neil Hawkins thrust his hand into the terrarium near his workbench allowing a small, crustacean-like creature, to climb aboard. The scarabs, he’d come to call them, because they reminded him of a cross between a Dungeness crab and an Egyptian beetle. If only his colleagues could see them, he mused, then tucked that thought away, lest the darkness descend. He hadn’t planned to confine them so long, but now gave thanks every day for their silent company on this dark star he estimated to be 200 light years from Earth.

When “Friendship7” first launched, before it got lost in space, it was credited with creating alliances and renewing space fervor. Flipping the console switch to broadcast his daily transmission, he still clung to hope of rescue. He’d survived twelve years after the crash:

“Friendship7 to Mission Control. Do you read?” 

In reality, NASA had stopped hunting years ago. The money belt had tightened and Friendship7 had slipped down NASA’s list of priorities to practically forgotten.

Neil let “Harriet” wander, her antennae sorting through the slender hairs on his arm. He then set her down to free the others. The scarabs had remained industrious, despite their compact surroundings; a trait he emulated as they’d outlived Friendship7’s crew six to one.  Hopelessness and boredom were his enemies. Purpose, his friend and ally. 

He reiterated his personal observations in his mission log: 

Joe: Hard worker.

Harriet: Slightly pushy, overbearing.

Ruth: Industrious.

Tammy: Younger, vivacious.

 Miguel: Fiery, bold.

 Esplanada: “Essie”— with her rainbow thorax and antennae held demurely near her head . . . the exotic one.

Nothing new, but procedure kept him a happy dance away from the difference between methodology and madness.

Neil remembered Egyptians decorated scarabs with precious gems to wear as ornaments. He pictured Essie with a tiny sparkling gem on her forehead. These scarabs investigated everything. Every now and then, he caught glimpses of Essie as she nosed daintily amongst his clutter.

Shaking the image, he donned his gear and stepped outside. A glint near his feet caught his eye. He bent and cracked off a piece of shiny rock. Inside, he chipped it down to jewel size, then rummaged for a waxy glue and stuck it to Essy’s forehead. 

Wow! It really made her eyes pop! 

Neil’s imagination took flight. As Ruth and Joe tugged a crouton across the countertop, he gathered scraps for a newly conceived idea, “Project Runway.”  He cackled at the name. Wasn’t there some show? He might be going mad, but he hadn’t giggled in years and it felt good.
 

A mound of material lay before him. He clipped, colored and pasted, until all the makings of his endeavor were assembled, missing his evening transmission for the first time.

The star’s sun was sinking as Neil set up his video camera and considered how to keep his models in a straight line. Spying the long, thick chain securing the fire extinguisher, he removed it, linking it between two moon boots. Lining up his models at one end, he selected “Chill Out” music, and went “video live,” kicking off his broadcast.

“Friendship7 coming to you from somewhere near Keplar22b, Doctor Neil Hawkins hosting, ‘Project Runway, Deep Space!’”

He gave Harriet a nudge, his voice booming as she sauntered down the chain.

“Welcome Harriet, her mossy green frock flittering over her thorax as she moves. Notice the hint of veil dipped over one huge black eye, giving her an almost saucy intention.” He took a breath.

“Next, Joe, his velum helmet dips jauntily. Clad in plaid, bringing out that hint of magenta in his exoskeleton. The very thing to highlight those coxa!” 

Neil continued, “Ruth, a veritable ray of sunshine in her yellow highlighter sundress, her curvaceous tibia glistening as she strides. LOOK!” he cries, “She’s standing tall on those tarsal claws, accentuating her svelte thorax.” 

“Tammy, reminiscent of Gidget, for you old surfer buffs, models a graceful sea green sarong.”

Tammy pauses, then twirls, as if to set the sarong adrift on the wind before continuing her catwalk. This elicits a shriek of surprise and pleasure from Neil.

He nudges Miguel forward.  

“Miguel, our infantryman, modeling military headgear. Chainmail slides easily over filiform antennas, accessorized by a sword bearing a hero’s emblem.”  Neil could really envision his bold scarab nature showcased by this uniform!

“And now our finale. Esplanada, the enchantress, in billowing harem-couture, sure to beguile and beget.”  Essie floats across as if riding a magic carpet. Neil leans forward, enchanted.

“Dr. Neil Hawkins’ Dark Star Revue, live from the Friendship7, Keplar22b Vector, Deep Space.” 

Neil switches off and smiles happily at the scarabs, who are chewing off their clothing. 

***

Tyson Hinds, 17, is searching for new frequencies around NASA’s UStream feed on his Hamm radio when he stumbles on the weirdest video.  Some lunatic, claiming to be from outer space, has dressed up a bunch of insects for a fashion show. Tyson’s laughing so hard, his mom comes to investigate.

“Mom! Watch! This guy’s buggy! You gotta’ be, to dress bugs! I’m def making this go viral!” 

The name “Friendship7” rings a bell she can’t place.  It takes several days with Tyson and his friends guffawing over his console to make the connection. She looks up NASA’s phone number with shaking hands. The video’s gone viral. She’s not the only one to connect the dots. NASA’s been inundated with calls demanding a rescue mission. The White House orders NASA to “find him!”  NASA scrambles for funding.

An eastern billionaire nicknamed “Rocketman” steps up to the plate, reprogramming his pet space project toward the Keplar22 vector.

It will be two more years before Dr. Neil Hawkins sets foot on Earth. His scarabs, now free and dressed to the hilt, will scratch a story into a cavern wall, relating their intensive study of a visitor from space, who introduced clothing and croutons to their culture. Croutons, a delicacy they long to savor again in the future. 

Maybe on his return!

  ~by taree Belardes

Semi Final Round of NYC Midnight's 

Flash Fiction Comp 2019

Genre; Sci Fi

Location; A fashion show

Object to include; A chain

Time; 48 hrs. 

Word Limit; 1,000 words
(Honorable Mention Semi Final Round)