Spark'l ~ Part 2 of 4

Spark'l  ~  Part 2 of 4 

By Len Morgan 

 The very next morning Mum dropped Karen off at school and drove thirty miles to Jodrell Bank Observatory.   She entered the main building and asked to see the Director.

“I’m sorry, but you must have an appointment to see the Director, he is a very busy man. If you wish I could book you an appointment?” the middle-aged secretary suggested.   “But, first I will need to know why you wish to see him.”

“I really wouldn’t be happy if too many people knew why I’m here,” said Mum.

“Your name is?”  The secretary asked in a friendly manner.

“I - I really don’t think that will be necessary…” said Mum, removing the box from her pocket and placing it on the counter.   “Would you just see that he gets this please?” she said.

“What is it?” asked the secretary glancing at it suspiciously.

Something in her tone worried Mum, “don’t bother, I’ll take it elsewhere,” she said and headed for the exit.   An alarm began to sound.   When Mum looked back the secretary was gone.   Suddenly the busy foyer was empty.   Guards wearing helmets with visors and body armour appeared at the far end of the room.   Mum put the little box in her pocket and kept walking.  

“Stand Still!   Stay where you are, and raise your hands above your head,” a man yelled through a megaphone. 

 Mum glanced around to see who he was yelling at.   She was alone.  

“Slide the box across the floor towards me and lay face down on the ground with your hands in plain view!” he commanded.   That was when she noticed their guns.

“But…” she began.

 “Do it!   Now!”   He ordered.   Mum did as he said and a small tracked vehicle, with a robotic arm, picked up the box and trundled off towards a side door where an armoured car was waiting.   As it trundled up the ramp, into the rear of the vehicle, shutters came down covering the exit doors.   Men rushed forward grabbing her roughly by the arms.

“I hope you have a good explanation for this,” she said, with indignation, “if not there will be letters of complaint sent to the appropriate authorities, and to my Member of Parliament!”

“OK!   Search her and take her to the detention suite,” said the man giving the orders; ignoring her protests.

“This will not go well for you,” she warned the young man and woman who were sitting on the opposite side of the desk in the small interview room.  “I have a full schedule of patients to see today at St Bernadine’s Hospital.   I am due to start work in thirty minutes and if you do not release me there will be hell to pay!”   She warned.

 “What group are you working for,” the young man demanded, with an aggressive edge to his voice.

“I work for St Bernadine’s Hospital Trust Group,” as I have already told you.

“And what are your demands,” asked the young woman in a more sympathetic voice.

“Let me go at once or you will definitely regret it,” she warned.

“We know who you are, Mrs Emma Bunting, we know where you live, 184 Spring Grove Witchell…”  The young man did not get a chance to finish.

A voice interrupted him from the desk intercom, “That will do inspector, the box has been analysed it’s a common silver amalgam, completely empty, and my secretary admits that she may have overreacted; because of the bomb threat, we received this morning.   Mr’s Bunting please accepts my personal apology for our shabby hospitality.”

“There!” she said, scolding her young interrogators with a withering stare.

A door opened and a middle-aged, grey-haired man, with a jolly face, came forward offering his hand.   “Archie Hamnar,” he said warmly, “would you like tea, coffee, or a soft drink while we discuss your visit?”

“Medium tea, with two sugars, please,” she replied.    “Can I have my box back,” she asked as they walked the short distance to his office.   He opened a drawer and removed the box, sliding it across the desk towards her.   His secretary entered sheepishly with a tray of tea and biscuits.

“I really wanted to talk to the director,” she explained.

“Well, you’re in luck, that’s me,” he said.

“Tell me Mr Hamnar…” 

“Archie please, everybody call me Archie.”

“Very well, Archie, what is the purpose of this establishment?”

“It was created to investigate and analyse radio sources, from outer space, to locate and make first contact with any extraterrestrial life out there.”

“What form would you expect that life to take; would they be like us?” she asked.

“Not necessarily Emma, do you mind if I use your first name?” he asked.   

“Of course not,” she shook her head.

“Consider the biodiversity of life on earth, from amoeba to man, we are all made of similar materials; air, water, and organic carbon compounds.   Does that give you some idea of the infinite possibilities?”

“Are you saying the possibilities are limitless?”  She asked.

“Just consider, all life on earth is made up of genes.  But, even the genes of lower life forms are very similar to our own.   The stuff of a common virus is 65% compatible with human genes.   It shows that all life on earth is part of the same family.  We are cousins to the common cold.” he said with obvious amusement.

“Is this room secure,” she asked.

“Completely,” he said with confidence.   “It’s swept weekly for anti-surveillance devices.   But, most of our discoveries are routinely published on the internet anyway, for scientists, astronomers, astrophysicists, and other interested parties.   Is there a problem?”

“I think you should judge for yourself,” she said opening the box.

Archie leaned forward catching sight of the pea-sized spark of twinkling white light.

“But, it was empty…”

“My daughter has named her Spark’l,” said Emma, “close your eyes a moment.”

‘You are a respected man in your field, with knowledge of many things, but even you will find my story hard to believe,’ Spark’l then told him about her journey and her life…   Tears started from his eyes.

   “Beautiful,” said Archie as he sat watching Spark’l move around the room, alighting on things like a butterfly; inquisitive, displaying the curiosity of a young child.

‘What is this?’  She asked stopping in front of a 24x18inch full-colour print of an astronomical event.  

“That was taken close to your birth,” said Archie. ‘I can’t see you in the picture,’ he thought.  “How could we have known what we were witnessing?” he said shaking his head and hiding his face.

‘Why are your eyes leaking Archie?’

‘A being of pure energy, an elemental, I’ve always thought it an impossibility, but here you are,’ he dabbed his eyes with a tissue.   “Seeing is believing.”

Emma smiled, “there’s something reassuring about seeing a grown man cry.”

“Karen and Scruffy didn’t come with you?” he asked regaining his composure.

‘Karen is at school and Scruffy is hunting for a lost bone,’ said Spark’l.

“Did you hear that Emma?” said Archie.

“Yes, she keeps in contact with every mind she touches.”

 “Fascinating!” said Archie.   “You will bring her to visit me again won’t you?”

“Well that is the problem,” said Emma, "when people learn about her and get to know where she is staying, our lives will become intolerable; photographers, reporters, and the media…”

“Yes, I do see your point.”

‘I would like to stay with you, for a while, and learn more about your work.   I would learn more about myself also, I still do not know the purpose of my existence.’

‘It will be a mutual journey of exploration!’ Archie thought.

“You’ll not forget to visit us,” said Mum hopefully.

Spark’l moved to a large scale map of the United Kingdom.

‘I will contact you every day,’ she promised.

“That may not be possible,” said Archie,” we will have to devise an extensive test program…”

They looked around but Spark’l was gone.   Then the phone rang.

“Galloping Gremlins!” said Archie.   “That’s the hotline - only the Prime Minister has that number.” - Shakily he raised the phone to his ear.   “It’s for you,” he said in amazement, switching over to the intercom. 

“Hi Mum, it’s Karen.  Spark’l is here and she wants me to say hello, to you and Archie.   I’m late for double French, so I’ll have to go now, love you, bye.”

Spark’l reappeared above the phone just as Karen hung up; ‘Click’.

“That was impossible!   Nobody has that number it’s a dedicated line,” said Archie.  

 ‘I am light and energy, I obey the laws of Einstein ~ relatively,’ she giggled.   A phone rang twice in the adjoining office.

“Most interesting, obviously we will have to cooperate, there is no way we could ever contain you,” Archie smiled.

‘Iris is concerned about the time.   You have a meeting at 09:15hrs.   I told her she could clear the tea things.’

Iris entered and did just that.   “Mr Richards is here, shall I send him in when your guest leaves?”   She smiled sheepishly at Mum.

As the door closed Mum looked quizzically at Spark’l.   “Why didn’t she see you?”

‘Oh, I wasn’t here.  I went for a tour of the establishment,’ She explained ‘Did you know that dish number five is only working at 50% efficiency?   A family of mice is living in the power distribution box, and the little ones have gnawed through the insulators.’

“Interesting, I’ll have them removed, and have the damage repaired,” said Archie.

‘No need, I’ve already found a new home for them, but the repairs are quite urgent.’

“Hello maintenance, would you shut down five please, and check the power distribution box I believe you will find the solution to your power problems there,” said Archie.

“Thanks, Archie, five has been off and online all week.   We have been unable to discover what is causing the problem.   How did you know about it?”

“It came to me in a flash,” he said with a mischievous grin on his face.   He winked at Emma as he replaced the receiver.  “Is there anything else I should know Spark’l,” he asked.

’Is that your vintage Rover in the car park?’

“Yes.” He said.

‘Well, unless I’m mistaken, somebody is trying to steal it!’ she said.

“Security!” He yelled down the phone…

“Well, I guess I’ll be going,” said Emma “I’m already late for work, and Mr Richards is waiting outside, I’m sure we will be talking again very soon.” 

“Goodbye and thank you, Mrs… Emma,” he said gazing out through his window, watching two youngsters who were easily evading the security guards.   

.-…-.

  That evening, Karen was lying on her bed gazing at Orion’s midriff, and the fading Supernova.   ‘I wonder where you are and what you are doing.   I really miss you Spark’l’ she thought.

‘I miss you too but even when we are apart we can still talk,’ Spark’l replied.

“Rruruff”

‘If you need me just call and I will be there,’ she answered.

‘Can you talk like this to everybody?’  Karen asked.

 ‘Only those I have touched,’ said Spark’l.

‘Could you talk to us all at once?’

‘I will have to try it sometime, but not tonight, it’s too late.   How was school?’

‘Oh you know,’ said Karen.

‘Geoffrey Partington?’

Karen nodded, ‘He stole my homework and flushed it down the boy’s loo.’

‘Call me next time’ said Spark’l.

‘What happened at Jodrell Bank today?’

‘Heh, heh, Archie’s car got boosted again.’

‘Boosted?’

‘Stolen by the same two who attempted it on the first day.’

‘Pretty stupid,’ Karen thought.

‘They did it because they were bored, they wanted some excitement, Archie is going to get them into an adventure program.’

‘Boys,’ said Karen, ‘they have all the fun.’

‘No these two were girls,’ said Spark’l.

‘Did Archie call the police?’

‘No, after they returned his car undamaged, I explained why they did it, and he felt sorry for them; their parents were at work.’

‘’So then what happened?’

‘He gave them a guided tour of the establishment.’

“Wasn’t that like rewarding them for doing something wrong?’  Karen asked.

‘Later, when he spoke to their parents, it was decided they should wash and polish his car for an hour every week for a month.’

‘He seems alright Archie.   What about the mice?’ asked Karen.

‘Oh, the mice are making themselves at home in the kennels at the security entrance.’

‘Don't the dogs object to that?’  Karen asked sleepily.

‘No, Lady ‘P’ does the night rounds whilst Nelson works the day shift.  Trouble was Nelson didn’t like being alone because it keeps him awake.   Now, the mice keep him company.   They help by singing him to sleep.   Then, if anybody comes, they wake him up.  He calls them his guard mice, he doesn’t mind sharing his food with them, because they eat so little,’ said Spark’l.

  When she heard gentle breathing, she realised that Karen was fast asleep.   So Spark’l decided to visit Archie at home.  But, both he and his wife were also sleeping.   There was a new moon in the sky so Spark’l settled on the wick of an artificial candle.   To all the world it would seem that Archie had not completely dimmed the bedroom lights.

.-…-.

 Ever since she was a child, Archie’s wife, Estelle, had suffered from a recurring dream - where she was trapped in a sinking ship and the air was running out.   Spark’l observed that she was having difficulty breathing so she went closer to see if there was anything she could do to help.   Archie was snoring, but Spark’l knew exactly how to deal with that.   So, with no nightmares and no snoring Estelle was able to enjoy the first good night’s sleep she’d had in years.  
Spark’l liked to help others.  She was discovering new powers daily and loved using them to improve the lives of those around her.

To be continued/...

Copyright Len Morgan 

I shall look for you

 I shall look for you

 By Rob Kingston

I shall look for you on the other side,
in the rose garden is where I'll reside.
For I'll have done all I can do
in bringing peace to this difficult world.

I shall look for you in the garden of Eden, where the fruits are so juicy and taste of sweet heaven,
where the women are fine, with their soft sweet smiles, their delicate skin bathed in the essence of subtle perfume. 

I shall look for you in their palaces of dreams wherein their pretty dresses they'll dance like queens and sit whispering sweet nothing's for all eternity.

Then I shall look for you in your beliefs prism and see you from afar, when your devilish deeds are done, where the air will be filled with odours of rotting flesh, singeing skin and hair, the place littered with decapitated limbs and heads, removed by the devil's sons, who show no understanding of what this world demands to exist in harmony.
Your envy pointed at those that rise not knowing that greed within their homeland is why they are fighting, not! Nations of peace seeking beings who understand freedom.

I shall see your scarred body and witness the white light that you desire hiding as if they feel the pain you have left behind, not wishing to associate with it.
And I shall see you when the devil is done with you, but! a charred image, in a lonely arid place wondering what instead you could have done.
Pray lord you see reason before these evil deeds have won.

(c) Robert Kingston 30.11.15

FUN PAGE (5)

FUN PAGE (5)

By Peter Woodgate

BAD HAIR DAY

When old Homer first put pen to papers

and thrilled us all with those exciting capers,

who gave him inspiration for those creatures

The Odyssey and other stories teach us?

And when young Perseus slew the evil being

using his shield as a weapon and for seeing,

holding the ugly head, in safety, at arm’s length

not looking at the eyes lest he should lose his strength.

Did he use the power of the matted writhing hair,

to defeat his enemies by foul means or by fair?

And when they quaked with fear, what was it that they saw?

What could turn men to stone? Was it the Mother In Law?

 LITTLE WEED

One two three, who do we see?

Count from one to ten, you’ll see Bill and Ben.

Down behind the shed, they are being fed,

Wrapped in paper sheets, don’t look much like sweets.

Four five six, smoking them for kicks.

Seven eight nine, eyes begin to shine.

Tell me Bill and Ben, from whom and where and when?

Is it right the lead points to Little Weed?

Oh slob o lob o lob o lob.

CHLOE

I have a cat called Chloe

She’s always eating food

It seems she’s always hungry

Always in the mood.

I feed her in the morning

And feed her in the night

Even when it’s dark and dim

And feed her when it’s light.

No matter when I feed her

She’s always there for more

She gives a sort of hiccup

Then vomits on the floor.

PREACHING TO THE CONVERTED

They’d been sitting for days and discussing

the argument, whether or not

a priest should be married, the motion was carried

by a majority vote of a lot.

The reason, it seems they agreed

and to all of their flock, they would tell

Is that “The Blessed Union” would help with their sermon

For they would have experienced Hell.

NAKEDNESS (PERCEIVED)

(My thoughts on Boris)

The crowds they clapped and cheered

As the King strode down the street

They saw in all its splendour

His gown and shoes upon his feet.

He waved, acknowledging, the loyalty they showed

His face, normally so glum, positively glowed.

A stranger, in the town, was moved by the commotion

And sought to have a look, at what he had no notion.

He pushed his way up front to reach the barrier markers

“My God”, he cries out loud, “That man is bloody starkers”.

Copyright Peter Woodgate

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 9

Flamingo Podnyalsya Ch 9

By Phil Miller

CHAPTER 9

Kayse Matrix had been an oddball her entire life: A gifted child they called her, from a broken home, excelling in all aspects of academia, specifically technology and mathematics.

At fourteen years of age, after developing extreme Kyphosis, her spine became misaligned giving her the appearance of a hunchback, which afforded her peers the opportunity for ridicule and abuse throughout the rest of her miserable school life, impacting her on all levels. The endless medical appointments and brace adjustments compounded her misery. She felt Isolated and ugly; a misfit; last to be picked for the team; utterly friendless.

She feigned illness on multiple occasions during the last years of her schooling, deciding to opt-out of the so called education system altogether; she had other plans. At the age of fifteen, she headed for the bright lights of London. Surviving on the streets had proved difficult, but she was sure that, as she grew into a woman, things would work out, one way or another.

She would do anything to get by, and she did. It was while living rough round the slums of Shoreditch that she crossed paths with a high flying financial executive, that her technical genius, problem solving and analytical skills came to the fore, with one event being the catalyst for change: his need to be ahead of the game during the worst financial crisis of the century; her genius as a hacker, to get inside the minds of his rivals.  

KC’s hacking skills were second to none and, along with her extensive contacts in high places, was a formidable foe.

She sat, gorging on chocolate and packet jelly, analysing the field of the partially de-encrypted data on her screens. Something was niggling away at her, but she could not quite put her finger on it. She would have to dig deeper.

KC thought about the young officer who had once saved her life. Craig had done well. Problem was, what to do with him now? If he went to Russia, then the entire world would be thrown into a third world war.

She stopped tapping away at her keyboard for a moment, transfixed to her monitor, and the capital letters that had magically formed from the results of an algorithm she had punched in some hours earlier. “HADES,” she said, in a low grumble.

Major Singa was feeling rather anxious. His IT engineers were having difficulty accessing some of their systems.

“How long is this going to take?” asked the Major.

“I’m not sure, Sir!” said the systems engineer, sheepishly.

“What do you mean you’re not sure. What’s the problem?”

As the Major was talking, another engineer arrived and whispered into his superior’s ear, before stepping back to stand to attention.

The top tech turned to the Major with a look of stupefaction on his face.

“It seems that we have been hacked Sir,” he said, as he drew a damp handkerchief from his trouser pocket.

Major Navin Singa began to visibly shake with anger. His head lit up like a belisha beacon before vehemently berating the quaking subordinate.

“We have spent too long and too much money for something like this to happen. You get your arse in gear and get this sorted, and you might just live to see the dawning of another day. Do you understand me?” he yelled, “sort it, get out.”

The Major sat quietly contemplating his next move as he slowly poured himself a dram of his favourite thirty year old Balmenach. Moreau and Donyevsky arrived shortly after, having been summoned prior to the news that they had been hacked.

Moreau sat down and the Major offered him a small shot. Donyevsky stood by Moreau.

“No thank you. What is going on? What’s happened?” said Moreau

“We have a technical issue”

“A serious issue?”

“You could say that. My technicians are working on it as we speak.”

“Enlighten us,” said Donyevsky.

“We have been hacked.” Major Navin Singa arched his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to contain his anger.

“Impossible. This command centre is impenetrable. Nothing can get through. We have our own satellite for God's sake!” said Moreau.

“I know that,” shouted the Major as he jumped out of his chair, “I know everything about this place. I know every security detail inside out. I know virtually every member of staff by there first names and I know there is absolutely no way this place could be hacked,” he turned to his whisky and poured a large glass, loosening his tie as he did so.

“How do you know one of your men hasn’t been compromised. Maybe an insider,” said Donyevsky.

Tom took a deep breath. “Listen to me. Every member of my staff has been vetted, thoroughly. They are all allied military personnel with top security clearance. No hardware is allowed in and none is taken out. No personal mobile phones. Everybody is scanned in and out. Nothing gets by security. Nothing.”

“We were not scanned though Major,” said Moreau.

“Of course not.”

Donyevsky turned to Moreau and then to the Major.

“Craig gave me the USB that he said he found in his flat. The one with the files on the Okhrana.”

Both men stared at him. “Yes,” they replied, in unison.

“Well, I…”

“Yes! you what?” barked the Major, staring intently at the powerful Russian.

“I checked the files last night.”

“Oh! My God! Where is it now? Where is the USB?”

“I have it here,” he produced it from his pocket. “I used it in the war room when the meeting was over. I didn’t think, I… I ….,” he shook his head in disgust.

“Give it to the tech guy’s, it might not even be the source,” said the Major.

“Wait,” said Moreau, “why would the Russian Secret Service put a virus on a USB stick with just a few files and information on it anyway. That does not make sense. They had the list of names and info about Okhrana’s plans. They could have just copied it.  They know nothing of the command centre.”

“We hope not,” said Donyevsky, as he made his way to the Major’s desk to pick up the light coloured whisky bottle before uttering, “they will know about Flamingo.”

“You don’t drink,” said Moreau.

“You are right,” he carefully placed the bottle back on the desk.

“Hold on, when we tracked Craig, he was at the Archway,” Moreau stood up. “He had been there for 4 days.” All three stood together in silence for a moment then the Major issued the order. “Get over there,” he nodded to the Russian, “find out if anyone else knows about this. Do what it takes. We don’t have much time. Take the chopper, move.”

Mika was waiting patiently in a disused yard near Victoria Docks, London. The state of the art communications complex, that was Telehouse West, was a mere 10 minute drive. Her patience was about to pay off as a black transit van pulled in behind her, then out stepped Credi O’rourke. Mika wound down her window.

“Get in.”

“Nice to see you too darlin’.”

“Where is it?”

Credi unzipped a rucksack and reached in but stopped short and sighed, “Bob told me about Beeson. Thanks for taking care of him for me, I was looking forward to dealing with him myself,” he eased the silver laptop and small black Kingston drive delicately out and sat it on his lap.

“The copy is in place and primed.”

Mika reached behind to the rear seat for a small case and handed it to Credi, who immediately popped it, to check the contents.

“Are you meeting your man tonight?” she shifted slightly, angling her body towards him.”

“Yeah! why’s that?” he slid the case under the dashboard.

“Where are you meeting the big man then?”

“Oh! sorry, I’m not meeting him. He’s meeting us,” he beamed, like a cat that got the cream.

“What do you mean?” totally caught by surprise, her door was wrenched open, she was dragged to the floor. The monster that was one-eyed Bob did not hold back. As she tried to get up he kicked her hard in the stomach, and then again; he couldn’t afford to give her the slightest chance.

She was still reeling from the kicks as he pulled her along the ground by her hair and threw her into the back of the van, closing the doors behind him. Credi checked the radio in the car and did a quick search of the stations before settling for XFM and Nirvana’s Teen Spirit; full volume was the only way to listen to it. The car was rocking and so was the van as Bob laid into the secret service agent. Five minutes later Credi decided he wanted in on the action. He turned the radio off and stepped out of the car; it was his turn to have some fun. He opened the rear van door and jumped back when he saw the carnage. Bob had been almost decapitated and Mika was gone. He was about to turn and run when he felt a chill down his spine. He didn’t know what to do or say next. It was of no consequence. It was so quick he didn’t even see it; the razor sharp cheese-wire drawn from her belt slid over his head and sliced through him like a hot knife through butter. He collapsed dead onto the oil stained, muddy ground. Mika’s face was a mess and her body was battered, but she still managed to drag his body to the van, heaving him into the back alongside his boss. The keys were still in the ignition, so she popped open the petrol tank and tore some fabric from her already ripped and bloodied dress. Two minutes later Mika was on her way with her hardware and 40k for her troubles. The orange flame in her rear-view mirror seemed almost poetic to her; like a beautiful sunset, she thought. Her body ached all over and she needed a few stitches to her left eye. She felt a tinge of emotion for a moment, but held it back, trapping it deep within one of the many corridors of her mind; emotions make you weak, and I can’t afford to be weak.

Donyevsky sat across from the Archway, observing the premises from a safe distance; didn’t seem to be a lot going on; the place looked almost deserted. He walked over and tried to get a view of the interior, but the opaque glass frontage put paid to that. He soon realised there was no way in except through the front door; no answer from the intercom. “Hmm!” Donyevsky scratched his head and stood looking around for a while, then looked up and down the old cobbled street, sussing foot traffic; dead quiet. “Fuck this,” he cursed, as he launched part of a broken paving slab at the window, shattering the glass, but unless he had some heavy cutting gear,  there was no way he was going to get through the heavy duty security shutters. He could see the floor was empty, barring a pile of assorted communications cable and a few busted monitors.

KC was gone. Just within an arm’s length was a table with an empty coke tin. A slim chance, but maybe some fingerprints. After reaching in and grabbing it he took out his phone to upload several pics to the command centre. UV light from his pen, coupled with intelligent latency processing on his BIPS (Biometric Intelligent Particle System) app should help hurry the procedure along. It was only a matter of minutes before he received a text; the wonders of technology, he grinned. “So, Kayse Matrix, I wonder where you are,” mumbling as he dialled into the command centre.

“Put me through to Moreau, please!” He was patched through in a nano second.

“We have the eyes of the city looking for her. She shouldn’t be too hard to nail. We need to interrogate her, thoroughly.”

Kayse Matrix sat in her sanctuary, beneath the Archway. Nobody knew she was there. She knew this day would come; the day of reckoning. The secret underground bunker was a relic from the last world war; now upgraded to a state of the art, apocalyptic stronghold; hi-tech, self-supporting with generator and UPS back-up for at least one month. If someone did manage to figure out how to get in, they certainly would not get out; sensory lasers would cut any adversary down in a split second; It had taken a few days to sort everything, get everything right; Now I can work properly, she thought. She worked away at the keyboard for hours; HADES was causing more problems than she imagined. The thought of a strong coffee beckoned, but before she had a chance to flick the switch, the feverish scrolling on all four monitors stopped. KC sat wide-eyed and waited. The cursor sat blinking on and off for a fleeting moment and then the conversion began.

The days of mind numbing de-coding had finished, the end result consisting of several short paragraphs. A dark cloud fell on KC as she realised the potential fall-out. Craig needed to get to a safe place. A place where no one could find him; not Russia; not London; another planet may just do it. She needed help but there was nobody she could rely on, apart from herself. She decided to send a message to the command centre.

Cody sat at her desk but had very little to occupy her mind as the system had crashed earlier in the day. After toying with a pet microbot for a while, she decided to go and see Tom. She could do nothing until her screen came back up. The red line was still there; very annoying, time was slipping. Cody had work to get on with so decided to head off and check on Craig but, just as the automatic doors slid apart, Tom dashed past her, making a B-line for the screen on her desk.

“Jesus Christ! Tom, you scared the shit out of me, get off that,” she grabbed at his left arm and tried to pull him away.

Tom said nothing. He booted the flat LCD with palm-print recognition and waited.

“Well!” shouted Cody.

The slim screen fired back up. They both read the bold, crimson text. The tension was palpable. Cody swallowed hard and wiped her mouth; the air con was playing up in her office, making her feel thirsty.

“We’ve got to get Craig out of here Tom, I thought we were doing this to secure world peace, not destroy it.”

Copyright Phillip Miller

THE TROUBLE WITH NAMES

THE TROUBLE WITH NAMES

By Peter Woodgate

I have this sort of problem

With names of things and places

With people too, it’s just the same

I can’t put names to faces

There’s Thingamajigs and Whatsername

And Whatchamacallit too

Thingamabobs and Whatsitcalled

Just give me a bloody clue.

You see it’s fairly simple

It’s there within my brain

But accessing is difficult

It’s never been quite the same

Since I became an O.A.P

My memories gone to pot

My children look at me and say

That I have lost the plot.

This does not concern me much

Cos I can keep a list

Of all those names and birthdays

And the things I’ve often missed.

But something is quite worrying

When I cuddle the wife, and then

She utters the words “you’ve had that

And I can’t remember when.

Copyright Peter Woodgate

Spark’l ~ Part 1 of 4

Spark’l  ~  Part 1 of 4

 

By Len Morgan

In a single instant, a being of pure energy was created by a Supernova.   She left her birthplace, at the speed of light, never to return.   Her journey through the galaxy began, taking her through many star clusters, and planetary systems.   She travelled on a beam of light, feeding off the energy from nearby stars, growing larger as she came closer to them and smaller as she moved away.   As the distance, she had travelled increased her speed began to reduce.   She was slowing down as she approached a planetary system, orbiting a rather ordinary yellow star, way out on a spiral arm of the Galaxy.   She became aware of radio waves; coming from the third planet out from the star.   It was then that she realised there was life on that planet.    She knew nothing of living creatures then; she wondered what they would look like and if they would be able to communicate with her, maybe she could visit their world, and learn about them.

    She listened in on the radio signals trying hard to make sense of them so that she would be able to talk with them.   She could pass through solid matter, without causing harm, but would she prove harmful to living creatures?   She listened to and experienced feelings and emotions.   She learnt languages; the radio signals were very informative.   Then, as she drew nearer, she began to receive television broadcasts and for the first time, she discovered what the creatures looked like.  Television was good; her favourite program was ‘I Love Lucy’.

   At this time she did not have a name.   She was a baby, feeding off stray sunlight and slumbering when it grew dark.   But, she had an insatiable desire to learn which she realised would only be satisfied if she were able to visit the inhabitants of that third planet.   She was very close now and soon discovered that she was able to read their thoughts; she assumed that this was normal.   She also found that sometimes she was able to share their memories.   This was not always good because sometimes they were very sad.  

.-…-.

   Karen’s border terrier growled and snarled at something and despite her soothing noises, he wouldn't be quiet.

“What’s bothering you Scruffy?” she asked.   He shook his head and tail vigorously and seemed to be pointing towards a large clump of deep red peonies at the end of the garden.   Karen went closer and knelt beside him to discover what might be causing his agitation.

“Grrruf Ruf rururf yap!” said Scruffy excitedly his tail wagging like a metronome.

“There’s nothing there Scr…”   Then she saw it, a pinpoint of light, shining out from one of the mature blooms.   Odd she thought, bending closer; it was as if somebody inside was shining a tiny torch.  She sniffed, aware of the heavy perfume coming from the flowers.   Suddenly the tiny beam grew brighter, dazzling her, she closed her eyes protectively.   She felt calmness, and a sense of wellbeing, as the light bathed her mind.   Then she heard a voice inside her head­­.

‘I came from an exploding star.   I have been very lonely.    I came here to find friends.   I found Scruffy.   He is funny.   All he thinks of is food, play, and being here with you.   He listens and he talks to you, all the time, but you do not understand him.’

“Who are you, what are you?” Karen was suddenly fearful.

‘I am nothing you can feel or touch, I just am,’ said the voice.

‘You can talk to Scruffy?’  Karen thought.

‘Yes,’ came the reply.

She opened her eyes and saw a star-like ball of sparkling light, the size of a golf ball, just six inches from her nose.   “Spark’l!” She said at once, the word just popped into her mind, “Spark’l is perfect.   That is what we should call you.   Would you tell Scruffy one bark for yes, and two for no please?”

“Yap,” said Scruffy.

She smiled, “Scruffy is clever, he’s a linguist, he understands English even though I do not understand dog-ish.   Do you like her new name Scruffy?”

“Yap.”

“Then that’s settled,” ‘but only if you like it,’ Karen thought, stroking Scruffy to calm him.

‘I have never had a name.   I do like it.   Spark’l,’ she thought, ‘it’s good to have friends, and it’s good to have a name also.’

.-…-.

   That evening Karen lay in her bed, in the darkened room, with Scruffy beside her in his basket.   She closed her eyes and immediately a pattern of stars appeared in her mind.   As she watched a tiny insignificant star, in the lower half of the constellation, grew rapidly brighter until all the other stars were engulfed in its magnificence.   Karen remembered, a few months earlier, Dad had shown her a new Supernova that had appeared near the Orion constellation.  

‘That was your birth?’  Karen asked.

She got out of bed and went to the window, searching the sky for Orion.   There it was, the Supernova, much smaller but still the brightest object in that part of the sky.

“It happened more than ten thousand years ago,” Karen whispered shaking her head, ‘ten with three zero’s.   Were you travelling all that time?’

‘What is time?’

“You have no family and no friends?”

‘Just me,’ said Spark’l.

“Yap yap yap.”

‘Me and Scruffy and now you…’ she added.

“One – Two – Three – Four – Five…”

‘What are you doing?'

“Counting seconds, a second is a measure of time, sixty seconds is one minute, sixty minutes one hour, twenty-four hours one day, 365 days in one year…   Ten thousand seconds would be…” she paused and thought long and hard “almost a week,” she yawned and returned to her bed.   Scruffy was already snoring.

‘What is wrong with Scruffy, he is making such strange noises’ said Spark’l.

“He’s snoring in his sleep,” Karen whispered in amusement.

‘Is it painful, snoring?’  Spark’l displayed genuine concern.

“It doesn’t hurt him in the slightest, he doesn’t even know he is doing it, but it hurts my ears and keeps me awake,” said Karen with an expression of pain on her face.  

Spark’l went closer to Scruffy until she was almost touching his wet nose; his breathing became easier and he slept on in silence.

“Shhh!   He needs his sleep,” Karen whispered.   ‘Do you remember being part of a star?’

‘Not at all, my first memory was of being ejected from a warm comfortable place where I had been safe and content.   I recall passing planets where I detected life and intelligence, but I was unable to stop, so my journey continued.’    Spark’l moved towards Karen’s oversized teddy bear, Boris, disappearing inside his head.   The bear stood up and looked around experimentally.  

‘’Boris cannot see or speak, and he has no brain,’ said Spark’l.

‘That is because he’s a toy, he isn’t alive, he’s a pretend bear.’

‘Does he know that?’

‘No, he doesn’t because he’s not a living creature.  Only living things have feelings.  If he were a real bear he would be far too ferocious and dangerous to be allowed in my room.   Mum would never allow it!    His eyes are buttons, his fur is artificial and he is stuffed with pieces of foam.’

‘Why did you do that?’

'Foam makes him soft and cuddly; it’s nice to pretend you can be friends with animals.   Go to sleep, we must be up early tomorrow,' she said turning out the light; a tiny spark persisted where the light had been as Spark’l waited.

.-…-.

"Is everybody up?" Mum placed a bowl of Doggiebix on the floor, "here Scuff."
“Dad?” said Karen.

“Yes, Sweetheart.”

“Do you really think there’s life out there?” she asked.

Dad turned the page and folded his paper in half.   “Life?   Out there?   The garden is teeming with it,” he said from the other side of his paper.

“No, I mean out there,” she said pointing and waving her hand above her head.

“Like ET?   On other planets?   In other star systems?    I would think it’s extremely likely,” he nodded.

“Then why have we not found it?   They’ve been searching the heavens forever, with radio telescopes, but they’ve found nothing.”

“It’s true we’ve not found evidence of life but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.   The Universe has been around for thirteen plus billions of years, it's a vast place so the astronomers tell us,” he said, putting his paper down.

 “Maybe there is life but it hasn’t yet invented the radio, or maybe they are an older race with a better means of communication,” said Mum. 

“Then again they could have existed and died out before the dinosaurs roamed on earth,” said Dad.

“Maybe they had this same conversation with their children,” said Mum.    

“The size of the universe, and the time scale involved, is beyond understanding; so we may never really know,” he said.

“What if they were beings of energy created by a Supernova,” Karen asked, “Born of a dying sun?”

“Mmm,” said Dad.

“Breakfast is ready, come and get it,” Mum called.

“Beings of energy?   Created by a Supernova?   Wherever did you get that notion, Startrek?”

“Is that so ridiculous?” asked Mum.  ”What about life here on earth?   We are told it was created in a muddy soup, of volcanic ash, and stirred by bolts of lightning.”

“Mmm, not sure that’s the current scientific line, we are living in the 1980s after all!” said Dad.

“I know which story I would believe and it doesn’t sound so ridiculous to me,” Mum said.

“If there are beings of energy and light spreading out from that Supernova near Orion they could well be with us right now…”  said Dad thinking aloud.

“Assuming they were travelling at or near the speed of light, in that time, they could have developed intelligence,” Mum said.   “You talk as though you’ve seen such a creature,” she laughed.

“Yap,” said Scruffy.

“That means yes,” said Karen before she thought to bite her tongue.

“Would that be one bark for yes and two for no?  Tell me you’re joking,” said Mum.

“Yap yap,” said Scruffy.

“Oh my G.. what is it called?” asked Mum.

“Spark’l,” said Karen, getting an answer in at long last.

“Very apt,” said Dad, turning another page.

“C-can we see it?” Mum asked nervously.

“Yap.”

Karen left the room returning with an eerily glowing yoghurt carton.  She placed it on the table and removed the lid.   There was a small mirror inside and a one-inch ball of light.

“It feeds on sunlight,” Karen explained as it expanded slightly.

The ball rose slowly into the air, keeping its distance.

“Can it communicate?,” asked Mum, pushing her wooden spoon gingerly towards it.   The ball edged away, maintaining the gap.

“Heavens to Milligoon!” said Dad jumping to his feet knocking over his chair and spilling tea down the front of his shirt.

“It’s alright Dad, it won’t hurt you, just close your eyes,” Karen warned them.   They did so, more from surprise than belief.

“Mmm,” said Dad, a secret smile forming on his face.

“Utterly amazing, just like meditation class,” said Mum.

The light receded and they opened their eyes again.

“I had no idea Scruffy was so intelligent.   I now know his favourite food is my vegetarian sausage, I must make him a special batch,” said Mum.

“Yap!”

“Is she staying here with us or just visiting?” asked Dad nervously.

‘What difference would that make,’  Spark’l asked.   ‘You measure life in tens of your years’ then your spark is extinguished.   I have existed for many hundreds of your lifetimes; I could visit until Karen’s children have children.’

“Mmm,” said Dad, “you’re the Trekkie Mum…”

“I know what Dad means, we might lose our anonymity.   When people know where you are staying they will be curious and want to visit you.   We should be taking steps to hide, or disguise you, and think of a way you can travel around without being seen by too many curious people?”

‘You want me to hide?   Have I done something wrong?  You wish me to avoid people?’

“No, what Mum means is, that when people know about you, we will be treated as curiosities. The newspaper and TV journalists will be camping in our garden.   We will be prisoners in our own home.”

‘People can look at me if they wish and if I decide not to cooperate I can leave.’

 “Mmm,” said Dad.

“What does that mean?” asked Karen.

“It means that when people know she is here we will never be left in peace.”

‘Then they should not know that I am here.’

“How could we prevent them from knowing?” asked Dad.

‘I could contact your authorities and cooperate with them until they lose interest.”

“Now that’s a good idea,” said Mum.

‘Don’t stay away too long though’  Karen thought, wishing she had kept Spark’l’s existence secret a while longer.

“Yap yap.”

‘Where should I go and who should I speak to?’  asked Spark’l.

“Wait a moment,” said Mum.   She left the room and returned with a small silver trinket box.   “Could you fit into this?” she asked.

Spark’l shrank to the size of a pea, whilst increasing in brightness, before slipping into the box.   Satisfying herself that the box was lightproof, Mum said, “If it isn’t too uncomfortable it would be adequate for travelling.   Tomorrow we will visit the Jodrell Bank observatory where the radio telescopes are.   You could say you were attracted by their radio dishes, and allow them to carry out whatever tests they think necessary.   Then, if you wish, you can come back home to us; you would be very welcome.”

To be Continued/…

Copyright Len Morgan