Pass or Fail
A dabble into the world of sci-fi to show my flexibility
Pass or Fail
She awoke stiff as a board, dry-mouthed and the skin on her hands so dry it pained her to slightly bend even a single chubby digit. But she had to get up; she had no choice in the matter. Traveling in a suspended state was necessary to cross such great distances; nobody wants a geriatric astronaut first setting foot on a new world. However, sleeping for years didn’t exactly refresh the dreamer. Waking up from a near comatose state came standard with its numerous aches and pains. But such was life among the stars. Such was the life she volunteered for as an interplanetary observer.
With one quick motion she swept her stout legs off the table and let them drop to the floor with a resounding thud, still asleep. Before she could finish exhaling the moan from that excruciating maneuver she forced herself to sit up straight adding to her agony. After a few moments to regroup her senses she slid off her sleeping platform and began her slow but steady march to the recuperation chamber.
The chamber was little more than a shower with a nourishment tube hanging beneath the showerhead and an excrement-waste removal drainage system running underfoot. Still blurry eyed and muddle-headed she centered her weary carcass under the spray head and hit the flow initiator. Nearly instantly she was doused in a warm soothing rain of revitalizing fluids specifically engineered to replenish her dehydrated system in as efficient a manner as possible. While the spray drizzled over her parched skin she also relieved herself of twenty five years of pent-up bodily fluids. Her body may have been placed in hibernation slowing it’s processes down a hundred times, but it was still a machine burning food for fuel and it had exhaust. As with any bowel movement pent up for a significant amount of time, the first plop was the hardest; as far as she was concerned she had just given birth.
The shower shut off automatically upon draining the predetermined capacity of fluid. While she waited for the last of the skin nutrients to be absorbed she sucked in his first breakfast in a quarter of a century. It was a wet warm soup prepared specifically for a dry tender throat and a digestive system that needed breaking in. Glancing at her nude reflection in the transparent chamber door she couldn’t help but think she looked damn good for a gal of fifty. Sure malnourished, after all she had been surgically altered to fit in with the primates, but still, considering her age, she was more than satisfied with the results.
Oftentimes preparing to conquer new frontiers demands sacrifice, this mission was one that qualified. Ironically she had to be willing to be physically handicapped to make the grade. Her home world, Plude, had gravity substantially greater than that of her destination, 5.53 times greater to be precise. Evolving under such pressure meant her species never exceeded five feet in height, had a natural hunched-back posture, and a musculature than far exceeded the weaklings she was expected to encounter. Just to qualify she had to be a very tall Pludian to begin with. Then she had to have her spine broken in numerous junctures to be realigned via molding rods to a more appropriate upright posture. That was hell, it was only the beginning.
Every aching muscle in her body had been reduced to half its healthy self. For months she had to transport herself in a hoverchair since her new body couldn’t handle home sweet home anymore. What a relief it was to finally get into the gravity-free environment of space.
The spinal re-alignment and muscular reduction were the main surgical alterations necessary for this duty, both were irreversible. On top of that she needed surface cosmetic alterations. Fingers and toes had to be harvested from corpses and attached to give her the ability to count to twenty; while they were at it they also removed the webbing between her digits. Then came the dental work. Her gums had to be receded and every pointy tooth had to be capped then whitened. Then the doctors went to work on her face. Lips had to be enhanced, eyelashes and hair had to be thickened and colored black, eyebrows had to be implanted one by one. The two nasal slots between he eyes had to be built up to a nose using cartilage removed from her shorted ear lobes. By the time the mad scientists had finished building their creation she was quite the malnourished and towering five-foot two-inch mutant, thin on her planet being 180 Earth pounds. And they weren’t done playing God just yet.
Her gray skin had to be permanently tattooed, every inch, to a more fitting complexion. The darker shade of the inhabitants nearest to the equator of the new world was chosen since color bleed-through would be minimal. Even with anesthesia to numb much of the procedure, there were some extremely sensitive areas that couldn’t be desensitized. To her, that was worse than the surgeries.
Eyes weren’t too big of a concern. Full orbital contact lenses were implanted to conceal her beautiful gleaming red eyes beneath muddy brown earth tones. She should do alright on her targeted world. As long as she didn’t shake anyone’s hand too long, or stare them directly in the eye for more than a few seconds. Of course being examined by any of their primitive medical professionals was completely out of the question.
Volunteers for the evaluation program were always young recent university grads, preferably female since their sex had the superior stamina necessary to endure such a lengthy solitary mission. It wasn’t easy being selected. After graduating top in her class she still had to pass rigorous physical and mental tests. Upon completing those came a year of intense study learning as much as possible about the destination selected for you, and then came all the reconstructive surgery. You had to start young in order to complete the decade worth of procedures and still be young enough to be worth all the trouble it takes to cross a galaxy. It wasn’t a perfect system. The audio and visual broadcasts she had memorized would be at least forty-five years old by the time she actually set foot on the new frontier. The data from the unmanned research probe was fresher, only about a decade off. Before splashdown she would spend a week in near orbit being updated by the pod’s on-board computer.
After she left the recoup chamber she immediately sat her nude ass down in the learning module and activated the computer screen. The next seven days were one long cram session educating herself on all the changes on planet Earth since the late 1950’s. Initially major concerns were the advancements in technology, particularly the military’s latest hardware, but as studies progressed social, political, economic, and environmental issues came more into play. The last day would be spent updating her vocabulary, fashion sense, and current continent subdivision boundaries.
As the computer relayed what it perceived to be the latest news broadcasts to her, it also analyzed the data. A materialization chamber was being programmed to provide her with appropriate attire as well as camouflaging the scanners and other instruments she would be using. Rearranging molecules took time, and energy, even with the stored elemental rods as raw material. It was a good thing her planet had such an abundance of a renewable energy source; her pod’s was draining fast. Even with solar recharging capability it would need more. It was now time to select a new name, “Nzyclipnic” would hardly do. The last thing she wanted to do was stand out from the crowd.
Her mission was an honorable, if not friendly one. Her peers on her home world all envied her for being chosen. Despite the fact if she ever made it back she would be an outcast living out the rest of her life on one of Plude’s moons. Her people didn’t like to be reminded of state-sponsored mutilation, just the heroics of brave explorers they prefer to picture in their own image. If she were lucky her reaming years would be spent restricted to a colony with the few other mutants that managed to return nearly home. Still it was more than an honor, it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. It was a genuine chance to save a world and perhaps even the strange people on it. Or so they told her, the press, and anyone who wasn’t privy to classified top secret information.
Her daunting task as an “interplanetary explorer” was to make discreet contact with another species on another world and to thoroughly evaluate them through clandestine observation within a one month window of time. Her duty was to scan, monitor, and feel-out the native inhabitants of the planet she was sent to. She was to gather intelligence on every aspect of human behavior, particularly their worthiness to remain at the top of the food-chain. It seems Plude was vastly overcrowded and was looking for room to expand. Being a civilized culture they decided to only reclaim inhabitable planets from species that would have gone extinct anyway. As advanced as they were, they couldn’t just create new frontiers, they weren’t gods.
It was up to us Neanderthals to decide our own fate. If we still showed potential a good-will ship of ambassadors bringing with them new hope and technology would be our next visitors. If we failed the test a single long-range projectile would put us out of our misery while preserving the rest of the planet for whatever evolution would bring to replace those deemed not worthy, as long as the new owners approved.
On a warm spring night at 2:47am a large splash could be heard in a remote cove on Lake Murray, SC. A few minutes later a short chubby black-haired dark skinned skinny dipper emerged on a secluded wooden bank, wearing nothing but a small belt with what appeared to be a remote control dangling from one very curvy hip. The submerged swim wasn’t too bad, it did prove refreshing. Even without the use of her webbed toes and fingers she still had little difficulty. Fortunately her species had never lost their ability to breathe underwater. With such a thick atmosphere that wasn’t too surprising. She took in a deep breath of her new air. It surprised her at first how light it was compared to her home’s heavier variety; it was a rush. After carefully scanning the dark horizon she removed her control pad and then pointed it at a small secluded clearing. After the push of a few buttons she found a place to sit, and waited.
She took the remote and slowly waved it about, and then she turned it over, flipped open a tiny panel and read the mini-display. Nice, the thin atmosphere had checked out as acceptable, although the pollution level would hinder her performance a bit. Even with her reduced musculature she still could out-run most species on the planet. Not to mention out climb, jump, and leap. It was too bad the remote was little more than a scanner once she left the immediate vicinity of the pod. She would only have her wits and agility to protect her once on her own. From a distance all the remote could do was scan her and her environment to report findings back to the pod’s mainframe. She wasn’t permitted weapons of any kind; even programming basic blades into the materialization matrix was politically incorrect.
Over the course of an hour or so, a tree, some rocks, a few handfuls of sand, and a few other odds and ends slowly dissolved. Simultaneously a tent and an accompanying campsite miraculously started to sprout up and bloom as if it had been grown from seeds. It still took a little getting used to, this molecular disassembly and reconstruction process she had been warned about. The key was to just stand back and keep out of the way, and let the computer onboard the submerged pod do its thing. In addition of providing cover for her ship, the lake also provided the energy source-water.
Pludians had unraveled the secret of cold fusion a mere two centuries prior. When you can separate hydrogen from oxygen good old H2O takes on a whole new meaning; one cup of water could run her pod going full blast for an entire day. Little did she realize that fact had more to do with her mission than anything else. The Pludian military didn’t fancy us apes possibly discovering cold fusion on our own, not with Earth being covered two-thirds by water. But that would remain none of her business.
It had been decided by minds far above her pay grade not to study any major cities or industrial complexes. Such high population densities came with too high a risk. Besides it was uncertain just how average urban city dwellers were compared to more rural inhabitants. The assumption being those living in high-rises had a higher standard of living than those lower life forms stuck closer to the ground. All the glittering lights and energy wasted in the largest population centers seemed to bear that out. No, they all felt it was best to judge a smaller venue; to strive for a more typical cross-section of culture. The country chosen was selected because it had produced the most broadcasts and therefore left less to chance. The specific location was selected by the computer based on relative data at the time; concealment being the prime objective.
“Naomi Washington,” quickly scurried into the tent and zipped up the artificial canvas flap behind her nude ass. She was only slightly intimidated by the vulnerable water splashdown that was the planned procedure. But being bare-butt naked on a strange world was more than a little too much for her. At least it was warm. Actually too warm, she would have trouble controlling her perspiring in such a humid, temperate climate; home having an average temperature of 65 degrees Fahrenheit and an average humidity half of what she now was experiencing.
The name she had chosen at broadcasted random, based on a pop singer and one of this particular country’s Presidents. Every piece of her manufactured ID would back up that selected signature. Naomi exited the tent a few moments later, dressed in artificial intelligence selected cut-off jeans and a pink tee-shirt, still wearing her thin belt with the remote strapped on one hip.
Abandoning camp, she set out on her appointed adventure. At the brisk pace she was easily able to maintain she arrived at a road in no time. Once again she pulled out her handy hip gadget and referred to its display for a street map of the region. Determining the nearest significantly populated settlement to be 30 miles away, a distance she could run within an hour, under the remaining cover of darkness. She realized she had plenty of time to get there. So she decided to casually walk at a normal earthling rate of speed taking in the scenery and wildlife along the way.
The first half hour went by relatively uneventful. She would master her quick-draw pulling out her scanner to check on assorted noises of the night. She didn’t know it at the time, but her senses were more acute than you average citizen. An owl, a fluttering squadron of bats, numerous mosquitoes and other flying miniscule objects, three rabbits, a small dog, and a possum all came up on her belt scanner as safe and secure. Being the wee hours of an April morn, and being on a back road had left her clear of hazardous humans thus far.
However that soon changed shortly after she reached the highway. She landed in the western half of Lake Murray and then swam to the southern shore of the man-made lake. At this point she had reached US378 and turned east to head for the town of Lexington. The first thing she noticed upon approaching civilization was a water tower hovering above the trees in the distance. The second was a splattered piece of fur in the middle of the road. Without hesitation, and with much concern, she rushed over to it, squatted down and scanned the remnants.
A tear formed in her eye when she realized the remains were that of a squirrel. One of her favorite native creatures, she had studied footage of them scurrying up trees and acrobatically jumping from branch to branch. She was looking forward to witnessing live performances, never expecting to see such a macabre massacre. The scan revealed the poor animal had departed this plane of existence a good 12 hours earlier. She had full knowledge of the internal combustion engine, and did understand that accidents do happen, but what she couldn’t possibly comprehend was how anyone could repeatedly run-over such an innocent victim without at least one human stopping to move the sacred corpse from the path of devastation. Where was the legendary “humanity” broadcast on so many of those hospital dramas and soap operas?
As she weighed out what was wrong with the average American driver a semi appeared in the distance rapidly bearing down on her. She slowly stood upright and raised her remote to scan the fast-approaching 18-wheeled racket. She quickly noted its designation, Freightliner cab-over, 9 speed double-clutch transmission, refrigerated 57 foot trailer, cargo 2347 watermelons, Confederate flag grill cover, 1 driver, speed 79 mph. As she read all the details she wondered why the speed remained constant despite the fact the driver must have seen her by now with those bright lights staring to blind her.
As she looked up, not startled at all, the semi’s air horn did its rudest to blast her out of the way, yet no apparent attempt whatsoever was made to slow down. In an instant it was over. The truck’s taillights continued unhindered eastbound down the highway on their delivering way. She stood, turned around and gave him the finger, an appropriate response according to her studies. In the 3 seconds between, she had effortlessly leapt straight up into the air, some 35 feet, while the air damn and top of the trailer slipped by beneath her feet. She returned her attention back to the dearly departed squirrel wondering to herself just how many squished human bodies ended up on the pavement, and if they sat unattended for hours as well. Not a very good first impression for the human race, not at all. She kept off the pavement and well to the side of the road for the remainder of her journey to the town of Lexington.
Naomi Washington’s introduction to the Palmetto State left a bad feeling in the pit of her stomachs. She had hoped for a warmer welcome. Nonetheless she continued undaunted with her mission. For another two hours the chubby stout black woman walked along the side of the highway scanning every car that drove by, every form of plant life that caught her eye, and every creature that stirred. By this time it had gotten light out and vehicles no longer used their headlights. That’s when she encountered her first trading post.
Waldo’s Bait and Tackle Shop opened early to meet the demand of those wishing to catch the big one before it got too hot to be out on the lake. Out front a child waiting for his school bus decided he had time enough to go inside for a snack. In his haste to satisfy his morning craving he left his backpack behind. Naomi decided it would be the neighborly thing to return the lad’s forgotten property to him. They didn’t know what to make of this strange colored woman walking in from the road, no car, no shoes, no fishing gear, and one back pack.
Waldo, the proud proprietor, was at the register and asked, “Can I help you?” Plastic worms, shiny plastic minnows, rubber crickets, crayfish, and frogs-all lures designed to attract fish; however this time they had drawn in a land-locked alien instead. Naomi had her scanner out waving it about recklessly trying to cover every detail. She was enthralled with every color of the rainbow sparkling and glittering like a Hollywood showcase. She was like a kid in a candy store not knowing where to begin. It was too bad she didn’t notice the very sharp, barbed hooks attached to all those pretty trinkets. She was so enraptured by it all that she completely ignored the shopkeeper’s question. That quickly got the attention of two other fishermen who were previously occupied filling their bait bucket with shad.
The sound of all the crickets chirping had pulled her towards the two growingly disgruntled white men. Both burley brutes stood directly in her way, the larger of the two brave souls commenting, “What’s the matter girl, cat got your tongue?” As she could think to say in response was, “What cat?...I had no knowledge felines consumed human tongue…Why on Earth would you chose to adopt such a creature as a pet?” With that her face took on an ominous worried expression as she started to scan for cats along the floor. Naomi’s accent didn’t help matters either. Her vocal cords could only stretch so far, imitating humans was straining them to their limits. Therefore she spoke only in short sentences with long breaks in between, in an indescribable indeterminate muffled tone.
It was a shame her lessons didn’t include Redneck 101. Her strange response got a very peculiar response back from the three adult spectators. What started out as a taunting game quickly mutated into pure panic. As she scanned the two gentlemen she detected the alcohol on their breath, a concoction apparently made form fermenting hops with yeast. The smaller of the two wise men stated, “Damn that’s an Arabic accent Clyde. We got ourselves a Goddamn member of al Quaeda here!” Instead of laughing Clyde’s eyes grew wide in terror as he exclaimed, “She’s got a detonator in her hand!”
At that exact moment little Billy emerged from the restroom where he had emptied his bowls to make room for his second breakfast. Before he could say anything about the book bag being his, Clyde’s partner screamed, “She’s got a bomb!” Seconds later two shots thundered out from behind the register. What was left of Naomi was splattered all over the bait bins, blood and brains now feeding the still chirping crickets.
The last words she heard were Waldo’s, “Ain’t no shithead Terrorist taking away all this American has built!”
Billy lost his appetite, but the three conquering heroes continued to congratulate themselves with pats on the back and hearty handshakes. The two fishing buddies were so relieved not to have been hit by Waldo’s shotgun blast that they could care less about Naomi’s blood all over their pant legs. As Waldo dialed 911 for the long arm of the law to come and clean up his mess, he had no idea of just how big a hole he had dug himself, a coffin sized one about six feet deep for himself and the rest of the human race.
Less than twenty miles away another fisherman was shaken in his johnboat by a large oval object shooting up from beneath the waters and out into the sky at an incredible rate of speed. Drenched by the downpour of water returning back to the lake he just scratched his head and wondered if anyone would believe this whopping tale of the one that got away.
Add your comment
You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.