《Toast's Sci-Fi Oneshot Compendium》


 The Clockmaker

    Nobody could tell you when the Clockmaker first set up shop. He''s always been there, as far as I can remember, the townsfolk would say. Asking more specifically would earn you some odd looks and suspicious stares. Visitors quickly learned to avoid questioning further, lest they found themselves ejected and lost in the town¡¯s surrounding wilds.


    The town in which he resided had no name. The houses rippled with a certain strange shimmer; they vanished from the corners of eyes in the twilight, then rebuilding and reshaping themselves in the moments between thoughts. They''ve always looked like that, the townsfolk would say. Are you feeling alright? One could swear that the entire town was ticking along to some unknown beat, and sometimes, visitors would hear the ticking in their dreams. The longer one spent there, the more clocks and watches they would begin to see. Despite the town''s¡­ eccentricities, it was known to be welcoming. Children would wave as you walked down the main street. A smile directed towards a local rarely went unanswered.


    The Clockmaker was always in his shop: from the rising of the sun to the rising of the twin moons; in the snow and the rain and the prickly heat of summer; in celebration and in sadness. He was always busy; there were always new clocks to make. Peering through a grimy window, one could see him leaning over some project, fiddling with gears and screws and a variety of items with no name. There were always more clocks to fix, after all.


    Even the Clockmaker could not fix everything, however. Sometimes, the damaged watches or timepieces or grandfather clocks were too damaged, and the clockmaker would smile sadly then shake his head. Those were always days of mourning. In the evening following a failed repair, he would attend a funeral of a recently departed member of the town, placing the remains of a broken clock on top of their coffin before it was lowered into the earth. That was the only time he was ever seen outside his shop. He would shake the hands of the bereaved families, offering his condolences. Afterwards, he would return. There were always more clocks to make, after all.


    Yet this delicate existence could not last forever. A group of bandits, packed into a single, small ship, marked the watershed. They had heard the rumours about the strange town and the strange inhabitants; they wanted to see it for themselves. Like many who pursue ends without regard to means they were greedy in their need.


    They, unblinking, would have offered no kindness to the locals. Not that they were given the chance to. Their ship was greeted by ethereal silence; a mist descended upon the town as the bandits stalked their way up the main street and towards the Clockmaker''s shop. They wanted his knowledge, his strange power over time and the threads of lives, and his expertise.


    The Clockmaker was waiting for them. He was not sitting at his desk; he was stood in front of his shop. He smiled as they approached.


    "I knew you were coming,¡± he said. ¡°You seem rather interested in my shop." He held a watch in his hand. It was beautiful and ornate: all gold and copper and carefully polished glass over the delicate hands of the clock face.


    There was no response at first. Then, the leader of the bandits stepped forward, exuding a threatening aura. "We know of your strange powers, Clockmaker,¡± they said. ¡°We would like to see them for ourselves."This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    "Hmm." The Clockmaker tilted his head slightly to one side. "I merely fix things, gentlemen. To search so violently for what you seek means you may never find it at all."


    "Nonsense," The leader bristled.


    "My value lies in the community I serve. Speak to them if you wish to understand."


    The leader pulled a small gun from nowhere then pointed it at the man''s head. "Tell us the source of your power. Now!" A finger hovered over the trigger.


    "Terribly sorry,¡± was the Clockmaker¡¯s response, his eyes sparkling with adventure. "I must be on my way. Goodbye for now, gentlemen."


    The gun fired, the crack of the bullet reverberating off of the surrounding houses, startling those peering through cracks in closed curtains. The Clockmaker fell backwards and landed on the ground with a soft thud, blood pooling around the shattered remains of his skull. The watch in his hand fell to the ground. The second hand had stopped ticking.


    "Search the shop," The leader ordered. With this, the bandits barged over the Clockmaker¡¯s body and through the doorway. The sound of dozens of clocks and watches, all ticking in perfect harmony, greeted them. They searched every little corner and crack, but found nothing, aside from seemingly endless gears and screws and all manner of strange, small objects.


    In the town, a neighbour who saw the Clockmaker fall ran to her neighbour, who ran to two more, and so on, until the entire town knew what had occurred. Within minutes, they had rallied into a single, extremely angry group; they advanced towards the Clockmaker''s shop. Each one held aloft a small, ornate watch as they marched in perfect step.


    The bandits had pistols, but the townsfolk were not afraid. They had access to powers far more ancient; ones which were forged in the crucible of the universe and rediscovered by one intrepid human, many moons ago. Bullets emerged from the bandits'' barrels and seemed to slow in mid-air. They stopped then fell to the ground, aged beyond any use. The children threw stones, which reverted into their primordial form as they sailed through the air, taking on the heat of lava and then exploding, burning and battering the now-terrified bandits.


    They were driven from the shop. They were forced back down the main road: the only route away from the onslaught. As they ran, the roar of a deeply wronged community rang throughout the town and the mountains and the valleys beyond, and nearby animals all paused for a brief moment, shocked into stillness at the power of what they had heard. The bandits themselves aged rapidly as they ran for their ship, the hair on their heads turning white and wrinkles appearing on their faces, arms and hands.


    After that, no more bandits visited the town. None would dare.


    ~~~


    The town exists to this day. It can''t be found on a map anymore; these days, only the most lost of travellers find their way there, always greeted by smiles and offers of tea and cake. In return, travellers offer the townsfolk stories of their lives and their journeys, and leave feeling strangely younger for this trade. All who have stumbled across the town report a monument of bronze and steel, towering above the town, in the ruins of a building at the end of the main street. A small hollow in its base holds a small, beautiful, gold-and-copper watch. A local legend tells that all who lay broken objects at the monument''s feet, in the light of the full twinned moons, find them repaired by the morning.


    And those lost enough in the darkest of nights - too lost to even find the town - swear they felt the presence of a gentle, smiling man by their side, guiding them to a place they can call home for a while. "Who are you?" They wonder aloud. Sometimes they hear a response, the clocks on their vehicles going haywire.


    Just lending you a hand, a voice would reply. Keeping myself busy while I look for a new home.


    There are always more clocks to fix, after all.

 Find Us

    His dreams never varied and tonight was no exception. As soon as he drifted off to sleep, he found himself standing on an infinite expanse of sand. Everywhere he looked he saw shattered stone pillars jutting out of the sand, each lightly obscured by mist.


    And then he saw them: two others were here, walking away from him in tandem. One was male, with short, curly grey hair. The other was female, with wavy auburn hair that reached her waist. He called out to them; they did not respond. He ran after them, his long hair flowing out behind him like water as he did, but as soon as he reached them the mist grew thicker, blocking his view of their faces. Find us, a voice whispered into his ear.


    He awoke with a start, covered in icy sweat. He never remembered the figures; yet those two words clung to him like honey. "Who do I find?" He murmured to himself. "Who¡¯re you?" The words faded into the background of his life as he got up, dressed, then prepared himself for his next assignment.


    Two hours later the starship postings went live. He picked one guarding a researcher; nobody he asked knew who the person was. Something about it to him felt like the right thing to do.


    ~~~


    He looked into a silvered mirror as he clasped his dark hair into a bun, guiding errant strands behind his ear. Then he left his quarters, a rifle strapped to his waist, and proceeded down a corridor to meet his new assignment.


    A woman was waiting for him at the corridor¡¯s end. "Hey," she said. "I''m Mia." Her hair was a shock of red that reached her chest. She stuck out her hand to clasp his. "New guard, hmm?" She continued. "What happened to the last one?"


    "Murdered," he replied, shaking her hand. "Was on my posting brief. You didn¡¯t know?"


    "Oh." She frowned, ever so slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t get out much.¡±


    His gaze hardened. "I''m not so easy to kill." He let go of her hand then glanced back down the corridor, calculating how many intruders could fit into its width.


    "Good,¡± she replied. A door behind her whooshed open though the room inside was dark. The man kept his gaze firmly on the corridor: his job was to guard, not to be curious. She turned around and walked back into the room. Then her voice emanated out of the darkness. "Name?" She asked.


    "Liam," he replied.


    "Good luck, Liam." With that she was gone, the doors to her research lab shut tight once more. With a sigh, Liam took up a guard stance outside the door.


    ~~~


    The quiet lasted a week before it was shattered by intruders. Liam knew that they were armed though had no idea who they were. But they died just as easily as any human; that he was certain of.


    With a muttered curse Liam reloaded his rifle, then aimed it back down the corridor which was already littered with bodies. There were echoes of fighting in the distance as unseen crew engaged unseen assailants. That, however, was beyond Liam¡¯s assignment: his brief had been clear that Mia alone should be guarded. He breathed in, breathed out, then waited. More intruders would arrive. He listened for approaching footsteps.


    The door behind him opened with a soft whoosh; Liam did not turn. "Close the door, Mia," Liam snapped, eyes roving over the corridor. "It''s not safe."


    "You need to get in here," she replied.


    "Orders are orders. I¡¯m not moving."


    Mia''s gaze turned deadly. "This ship was attacked last year,¡± she said. ¡±Everyone except me died. Ten seconds before the door¡¯s sealed."


    Liam wavered for seven of those seconds then stepped backwards into the room, watching the corridor the entire time. The doors snapped shut; he studied its mechanism with a trained eye. "This is expensive," he muttered. "Could buy ten ships for this thing."


    To this, Mia laughed. "I''m worth more than a thousand ships."


    Liam turned to face her; his expression was guarded, betraying none of the surprise he felt upon viewing the room¡¯s contents. It was peppered with instruments he didn''t recognise, bar a small computer in one corner with an accompanying makeshift bed. In another corner lay a tall bookshelf, stacked to the brim with novels.


    Curiosity got the better of Liam¡¯s orders. "What¡¯s all this?" He asked.


    "My life''s work," she replied. She turned to a large red button near the door and slammed her fist into it. Liam heard sirens, the scraping of metal, then the whooshing of air followed by a piercing scream. All the sounds retreated into an eerie silence outside.


    "You opened the airlocks," Liam said, his voice betraying shock. ¡°You killed them all.¡±


    "Yes,¡± she replied. ¡°It was necessary." She turned back to one of her instruments. "Ship¡¯s protocol. My protocol. If I get attacked, everyone but me dies."


    Liam felt dread coil around his stomach. "Then I shouldn''t be here,¡± he said. ¡°Why save me?"


    She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before replying, "I needed a guard. Now I need your help. "


    "I''m under orders not to assist-"


    "Guess what, Liam? You''re the highest ranked officer on the ship now. Fuck your orders."


    Liam sighed. He felt a headache coming on. "Fine." He tried not to think about the screams of the dead as he looked round the room once more.


    ~~~


    Helping Mia was simple enough. She had him monitor her for two hours each night; a device wrapped around her wrist fed readings to her computer. Once this was complete Liam slept also, curled up in a makeshift bed in the corner next to the bookshelves.


    For three weeks this remained their routine; the door remained sealed and did not open. Liam busied himself with the novels on the bookshelves. He refused to speak to Mia unless necessary and rationalised it as following orders, though deep down he knew that he was afraid of her.


    One night, however, his curiosity overcame his fear. He hovered over the computer and watched Mia¡¯s readings appear on the screen. They were unintelligible except for one phrase at the very end: Find us.


    Liam blinked twice then backed away from the computer, and when Mia awoke the next day he said nothing about the incident. She, however, found him more amenable to conversation in the following days.


    "What''s your research about?" He asked her, on a day he felt braver than usual.


    "Everything," she replied.


    He asked no further.


    ~~~


    "Hold this," Mia asked him out of nowhere, a month after the lab doors had been sealed. He held out his hands; she pressed a small device into them. A wire extended from the device that was connected to a band around her wrist. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    "Press the blue button," she told him.


    He did; he yelled in shock as she vanished into thin air. Seconds passed by in silence as he stared at the space she had been in. Ten seconds later, she returned as if she¡¯d never left.


    "What the fuck?" He breathed.


    "Hmm?" She replied.


    "You were gone. You vanished."


    "Oh. Good." She removed the band from her wrist then sat down by her computer. "Thanks."


    Liam opened his mouth to respond. No words came out; instead he turned to where his sleeping bag lay. "I''m just a guard," he muttered to himself as he sat next to his stack of books. "I''m not supposed to see shit like this."


    Mia repeated this process several times over the next day, each time vanishing for longer than she had before. Liam kept his mouth shut; he¡¯d decided he was better off not knowing. Yet more than ever before, two words kept surfacing in his mind as he tried to ignore Mia¡¯s bizarre experiments.


    ~~~


    Six weeks after the lab doors had been sealed, Liam noticed something odd.


    "Your hair," He said to Mia, gesturing to the top of her head. "It¡¯s different. It¡¯s growing in brown."


    "Oh. I dyed it a while back,¡± she replied.


    Liam couldn''t hide the look of surprise on his face. "Dye costs a year''s food rations. Why bother?"


    "Dunno.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It felt like the right thing to do."


    "Riiiight." Liam settled onto a nest of cushions next to a stack of his favourite books. He picked up one at random.


    "Liam?" Mia asked.


    "Yeah?"


    "Thanks for your help."


    "I didn¡¯t have much choice. But you¡¯re welcome, I guess."


    That night, Liam dreamed of the pillared landscape for the first time in four months. For the first time, the figures acknowledged his presence, turning to face him as they heard his footsteps; their faces were indistinct.


    Find us, they said to him in unison. Find us.


    ~~~


    Three months after the doors were sealed, the ship was boarded by intruders. Mia hit the airlock button over and over and over; yet the men on the other side of the door remained, hammering at it with their fists. Then the sound of a drill started up.


    "Fuck!" Liam muttered, grabbing his rifle. "Get back. I''ll take out as many as I can."


    Above the sound of the drill, Liam heard Mia sprint across the room and slam open a cupboard door.He looked back to see her holding a strange device.


    Liam''s eyes widened. "Don''t leave again," he said. "Please. I hate being here alone."


    "I have to. I''m sorry." She looked up at him with sad eyes. "There''s no time. If they''ve found the ship they''ll know how to get through the door." She glanced down at the device she''d snatched from the cupboard. Instead of wrapping a band around her wrist, she ripped away the band, looked down at the floor, then stabbed wire into her wrist, wincing at the pain.


    Liam turned round then glanced at the roots growing from her scalp. A realisation crashed over him like a tsunami: her hair was auburn.


    "Wait!" Liam said.


    She glanced up from the device as she pressed a button on its side.


    "Find us," Liam said, the panicked words tumbling out of his mouth.


    He saw a look of pure shock in her eyes; she opened her mouth to reply then vanished. Seconds later, the doors were forced open, revealing a group of heavily armed men.


    "Who the fuck are you?" One of the men snapped, his pistol pointed at Liam.


    Liam turned around slowly. "Guard," he replied. "That''s all."


    "Then you''re useless." The man fired four shots into Liam''s chest. Liam felt the impacts then the pain blossoming across his chest as he fell backwards. Then he blinked. Suddenly he was standing alone in the room, with the doors wide open to a darkened corridor. There was no trace of the intruders. Liam pressed a hand to his chest to find it whole.


    Find us, the voices echoed from every part of the room at once.


    Liam felt a surge of panic; he sprinted out of the room into the deserted corridor. He slept in the navigation room on a cot that night, unable to face sleeping in the laboratory with the technology that had stolen Mia away.


    ~~~


    That night he dreamed once more. This time, the pillars on the beach were unbroken and stood twice as tall as him.


    "Hey," a voice called behind him. Liam turned around to see Mia, leaning against a nearby pillar with her arms folded.


    "You''re dead, aren''t you?" Liam said. "You never came back."


    She shrugged. "Yes and no," she replied.


    "Why are you here?"


    She looked at him as if he''d told her the sun came out at night. "Because I can be."


    He reached for her arm then gasped as he felt flesh and muscle beneath. "You''re real,¡± He said. ¡°That''s impossible. This is a dream."


    To this she smiled. "Find us," she said. Liam woke up with a start, holding back tears.


    ~~~


    After that night, Liam never dreamed of the pillared landscape again. He kept himself busy on the starship that had become a home like none he¡¯d never had.


    One day, he became tired of his hair, which had greyed from the shock of his death undone; he found a set of clippers and shore it all off in a fit of rage. To his surprise it grew back curly.


    Two days after that, he re-entered the lab from which he could hear voices whisper to him still, and picked up the lone device Mia had left behind. He took the wires and jabbed it into his wrist.


    Find us, the voices shouted into his ears.


    "I''m going to," he said, closing his eyes then pressing a button on the device¡¯s side. At once his vision went white; he was thrown backwards over an invisible precipice and fell for what felt like forever.


    ~~~


    He was back in the pillared landscape; this time his dream felt real. He noted that the pillars now stretched into the sky as far as the eye could see. He glanced to his right and noticed Mia standing nearby. Her hair had lost its dye; it was auburn, from the crown of her head to the end at her waist.


    "Liam," she said, reaching out a hand. "I''ve been waiting for you."


    He stared at her in shock. "Why did you leave?" He asked.


    "I had to. I knew too much."


    "Explain." He stepped forwards and clasped her hand.


    "The experiments worked," she said, placing a second hand over his. ¡°All of them.¡±


    "I need more details than that, Mia. C¡¯mon. I helped you for months."


    Mia shrugged. ¡°Sure. I''m not dead. Neither are you. We''re detached from time."


    "What?" Liam dropped her hand then stared at her, eyes wide.


    "I saved your life, you know," she continued. "When those guys broke through that door. I reached into your timeline and deleted them from existence. Wasn¡¯t that difficult."


    Liam shook his head in disbelief. "Then why didn''t you come back after?"


    "I can''t. Not anymore. Neither can you."


    There was silence as Liam processed what she had said. "What now, then?" He eventually asked. He had a headache.


    "I need your help."


    He sighed. "Seriously?"


    "Help me drop hints into your timeline," Mia replied. "I gotta make sure you find me."


    ¡°Find us, you mean,¡± Liam said, trying not to smile.


    Mia rolled her eyes. ¡°Sure.¡±


    "And after that, Mia?" Liam asked, resigned to his fate in a place he¡¯d once thought was a dream.


    Mia smiled. "You''ll see."


    ~~~


    His dreams never varied and tonight was no exception. As soon as he drifted off to sleep, he found himself standing on an infinite expanse of sand. Everywhere he looked he saw shattered stone pillars jutting out of the sand, each lightly obscured by mist.


    And then he saw them: two others were here, walking away from him in tandem. One was male, with short, curly grey hair. The other was female, with wavy auburn hair that reached her waist. He called out to them; they did not respond. He ran after them, his long hair flowing out behind him like water as he did, but as soon as he reached them the mist grew thicker, blocking his view of their faces. Find us, a voice whispered into his ear.


    He awoke with a start.

 Googly Eyes: or an Alien’s guide to Human Toddler Management

    "Den, why are there googly eyes on my goddamn cupboard?!" roared Bharm. He was half-kneeling, holding a set of microscope slides in one hand, staring at his desecrated cupboard door.


    Den, who was disassembling a holo display-device on the opposite end of the table to Bharm, sheepishly looked at the towering alien. "Oh- uh- Sorry, boss. Kid got a hold o'' a pack again."


    "Well, tell your kid I''ll fine them for desecration of property. Ugh."


    "Uhhhh boss she''s only nine mont-"


    "I don''t care how old she is!" Bharm stood up, his seven-and-a-half feet towering over Den''s six. "I learned not to mess with important things when I was three days old!"


    Den looked like a deer caught in headlights. "Yesbosssorryboss won''t happen again!" He scurried out of the lab, crossing himself as he went.


    "Ugh. Humans," Bharm muttered. "If they didn''t have opposable thumbs I''d fire the lot of them."


    And if I don¡¯t get another pint of coffee in me I¡¯m going to throw something, he thought, writing some research notes on a sheet of paper.


    ~~~


    Several days later, Bharm was in his study, surrounded by piles of books. The door was ajar; he didn''t notice that he was no longer alone until he heard the thump of a book falling over.


    "Eh?" He said, getting to his feet. Glancing over to the source of the noise he started in surprise.


    A human toddler, tiny in comparison to Bharm, looked up at him, eyes wide. She gurgled something incomprehensible then started crawling towards him. On her head she wore a tiny hat that said MINA.


    "Uhhh¡­ Sorry, what was that?" Bharm asked.


    Mina gurgled again.


    "Huh," Bharm muttered. "Is this translator working?" He tapped his earpiece. "Do¡­ you¡­ understand¡­ me?" He sat on the floor to get a better look at the tiny human. Mina crawled over to him and started pulling at his slipper.


    Bharm looked utterly lost; he stared at Mina as she gurgled again, crawled over to where his hand was resting, and put her hand on top of his. He felt a strange surge of warmth at this as if ancient instincts had reawoken.


    Seconds later, Den sprinted into the room to find his daughter repeatedly hitting Bharm on the hand. "Fu-Heck!¡± He said, dodging piles of books as he crossed the room. ¡°I''m so sorry! She crawled off and I wasn''t paying attention she musta got here through the access hatch please don''t fire me¡­" He continued spitting out garbled words as he scooped Mina up in his arms.


    Bharm said nothing as Den ran back out of the room, a delighted Mina gurgling in his wake. Why is she so small? He thought.


    There was a tiny imprint of warmth on his hand where hers had been resting.


    ~~~


    The next day, Bharm and Den were back in the lab, each working on their own projects.


    "Den?" Bharm asked, putting a slide under his microscope.


    "Uhhyessirwhat?" Den almost dropped his own slide.


    "Why doesn''t your child speak?"


    "...what?"


    "My translator didn''t work for her. I want to know why."


    "Uhhhhh¡­" Den looked confused. "She can''t speak yet, boss."


    "Why not? Have you not trained her sufficiently?"


    Den gave a nervous giggle. "Er, no boss. Humans don''t learn to speak ''till uhhh, a bit after they''re born."


    Bharm was silent for a moment as he mulled this over. Eventually he replied, "Hmm. Interesting."


    Den was surprised into silence. Bharm seemed lost in thought; Den snuck out of the room to avoid any more questions.


    ~~~


    The next day, another technician walked into Bharm''s study.


    "What''s that?" The technician asked, spotting that Bharm was reading a book.


    "Not of your concern," Bharm replied. "Critical mission research."


    The technician peered closer. "That''s a human parenting book-" The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    "CRITICAL MISSION RESEARCH!" Bharm roared, causing the technician to scurry away.


    ~~~


    After that, Bharm didn¡¯t see Mina at all for weeks. He assumed that whatever security protocols she had broken to get into his study had been reinforced by her father; most likely, she was in Den¡¯s living quarters.


    The next time he saw her was when he was in a storage room full of boxes. ¡°Urgh,¡± he had muttered as he walked in. ¡°Who put these here? This organisation is dreadful.¡± Unbeknownst to him, Mina had found her way in also, half-crawling and half-walking across the room.


    Bharm heard a gurgle of surprise; he turned round to find Mina reaching up to a box on a shelf from which some fabric hung almost to the ground. She took hold of the fabric in both hands and began to tug, giggling to herself. The box itself began to slide and then to fall.


    Bharm spotted the danger instantly. Sprinting across the room in half a second, he scooped Mina up with one hand and shoved the falling box away with another. It fell onto the ground, smashing the contents within.


    Mina, startled by the noise, began to cry.


    "Oh. Er. Uh," Bharm said. "Do not worry, child. I saved you from certain doom."


    Mina cried harder.


    Bharm looked down at the crying toddler, puzzled. For a moment he thought; then remembering something from one of the books he had read, began to rock her back and forth. "Shhhh," He whispered. "You''re not doomed today."


    After a few minutes of this, Mina''s cries lessened. Eventually, she fell asleep in Bharm''s giant hand.


    Later, Den answered a knock on the door to his quarters to find Bharm offering back a sleeping Mina. Den stalwartly refused to ask any questions relating to the matter. After that, for reasons nobody except Den could quite understand, Bharm installed a number of new safety protocols across the research complex, including an astronomical number of safety gates. Nobody was brave enough to challenge him on the matter.


    Yet everybody noticed the shift in Bharm¡¯s demeanour. He was becoming less angry with each passing day.


    ~~~


    A month later, Bharm was sipping on his pint of coffee when the door to his study opened. Standing there was Den; Mina was just behind him, walking unsteadily.


    ¡°Boss?¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Mina¡¯s talkin¡¯! Thought, er, you might wanna know?¡±


    Bharm smiled. ¡°Really? Incredible!¡± He looked over at Mina who was now rushing across the room towards him. ¡°Hello, tiny human. Er, Mina. Apologies.¡±


    Mina ran straight into his leg and almost fell over; Bharm steadied her with a hand. She looked up, smiled, then spoke: ¡°Biiiiig. Big." She pointed up at his face. ¡°Big.¡± She then pointed to his pint of coffee. ¡°Big!¡±


    A passing technician stuck her head through the door just in time to see this unfold. From then on, all anybody would call Bharm was ¡®Big¡¯.


    When someone bought Bharm a badge with his new nickname, he felt a strange sense of pride. He, of course, wore it 24/7.


    ~~~


    ¡°Hey, Big,¡± Den said one day as he shared a pint of coffee with Bharm. Two years had passed since Bharm had become known by his new name.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°I uh-er- well I got a job offer. Closer to home.¡±


    ¡°I... see.¡±


    ¡°You ain¡¯t mind?¡±


    Bharm smiled. ¡°You should prioritise family, Den. When will you leave?¡±


    ¡°Few months. Got paperwork ¡®n¡¯ stuff to sort.¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡±


    ~~~


    The day Den and Mina left was a sad one indeed. Mina was four now, and she ruled the research complex with an iron fist. Nobody, least of all Bharm, was able to resist giving her snacks or answer her various and many questions about everything.


    ¡°Den¡­¡± Bharm began, as he, Den and Mina stood next to the transport ship.


    ¡°Aye, Big?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome back here anytime. So is Mina.¡±


    Den wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. ¡°Tha¡¯ means a lot. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Bye bye Big! See you soon!¡± Mina called from behind Den.


    Bharm knelt down as Mina ran over to him and gave his arm a big hug. He removed his translator earpiece from his ear; pressing it into her hand, he looked back up at Den.


    ¡°A gift. See to it that she meets many people. I¡¯ve read that it¡¯s good for small humans.¡±


    Den did his best not to cry and failed. From that day, the research complex was much quieter.


    Some time later, Bharm came across a tiny pink hat in a cupboard; on its front read MINA. None of his technicians were brave enough to ask why they¡¯d seen him crying that day.


    ~~~


    Twenty years later


    Bharm, as always, was in his study in his lab, reading. He had aged little in the intervening years, although his caffeine consumption had decreased somewhat.


    There was a knock; he looked up to the door, smiled at the giant googly eyes he had stuck onto it, then got up to answer the door.


    As he opened the door he was surprised to see a young human woman.


    "Hi. Um, Big? Bharm?" She asked.


    "That is me. Please state your business." This woman was at least two feet smaller than him.


    "My name is Mina. My dad worked for you, right?" She reached up to tap an earpiece. ¡°You gave me this.¡±


    At once, he invited her in for a jug of tea.


    It transpired that Den had retired not too long ago. She explained how he had recommended this research station as a place to learn and work. Bharm, of course, offered her a job on the spot.


    She decided not to ask why there were at least fifteen safety gates per corridor. She did, however, smile as she noticed a tiny hat - with the word MINA stitched onto the front - framed over a door leading to a storage cupboard.


    ~~~


    Several weeks later, Bharm was back in his study. He was sipping at a cup of tea. Mina had kindly made a pot for him, brewed to his exact specifications, though how she knew what those were was a mystery. He plucked a book from the shelf then sat back in his chair.


    Bharm looked down then noticed something different with his book.


    "Why are there googly eyes on my goddamn book?" He muttered. He knew that only one person on this research station could have done this.


    Yet he smiled.

 Mechanical Gods

    Final Audio Log of [redacted] recovered Human Observation Year 6,056


    My kind are spiritual. We recognise gods as fact; they guide our every waking moment, from when our souls are given bodies to the moment our souls fly free. They are our creators and we are their subjects. There is no other way to understand our world.


    Humans had their gods also. Some bore a resemblance to ours; some did not. We considered their kind primitive and their gods more so. Yet they sparked our curiosity. So we made no contact and observed, as our faith dictated.


    Eventually, the humans left their birthworld and took to the stars. They established colonies on planets we thought uninhabitable. The colonies lost contact with each other in some form of disaster; there was discussion amongst my kind as to whether they would survive. I prayed to my gods that they would. They did, of course, or I would not have a story to tell.


    We observed, over time, striking divergences amongst those human colonies cut off from each other. Many remained on the traditional path, worshipping the sky and the stars as they always had. Others turned inwards, and worshipped the worlds that sustained them. We considered this strange but did not interfere.


    Then, we found worship that caused uproar amongst my kind.  The worship of mechanical gods.


    One human colony eschewed tradition entirely. Their world suffered many disasters which eviscerated their numbers and threatened their existence. Despite this they rebuilt; they forced that planet to kneel at their feet as they configured the skies and the seas to serve their needs.


    They were warlike too. Factions battled over resources - brutal wars at terrible cost - then coalesced under a single banner once the crises were resolved. We watched in fear as these humans reached the stars once more. Eventually, they abandoned their crucible world for a civilisation in the stars; over time their ships and their weapons became their gods. These humans worshipped only at the shrine of their own creations. We considered interference and decried their blasphemy; but our gods forbade us from such an act. We could do nothing but watch.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    We assumed the worst. We thought they would find other colonies then destroy them in the name of their mechanical gods.


    Yet to our surprise they did not. They found another colony, of course. But there was little bloodshed. Those that worshipped their mechanical gods saw brethren, not enemies.


    Perhaps they had grown tired of war; but we thought such a thing impossible. We concluded that the discovered colony was deemed useless to the mechanical gods¡¯ cause. Despite this, the divine ships never left, and over time the two colonies assimilated. It was not long before other colonies were rediscovered, creating a further mixing of faiths. Humanity, for the first time in millenia, became unified under one banner once more.


    Human gods are now unrecognisable from those of their birthworld. The pantheon is vast; the humans worship the sea, the sky, and everything in between. Yet the influence of that single warlike colony was incredible. Their gods are traditional, yes, but each of them was given life and soul by humans; they and their gods are of equal power. And through these gods the humans reshaped their reality as they saw fit. They took to the stars on a journey of discovery then prospered unlike any species I have ever observed.


    Mechanical gods were only the beginning. Each human is now a god unto themselves.


    I have not told my brethren, but I plan to break the vow of silent observation. I wish to see what the humans would think of me; I wish to see what they could make of my kind¡¯s technology.


    My gods will not forgive me for such an act. Yet I am no longer sure of their power. Somewhere amidst my millennia of observation, I found the strength to shape my story by my own whims.


    Perhaps I, too, have been changed by their mechanical gods.


    ~~~


    Audio Log retrieval note: the whereabouts of [redacted] are unknown. Two rotations after this log was created all human colonies became unobservable. We must assume that our position is compromised.


    Will the humans forgive us for not helping them sooner?

 Mayonnaise

    Gr¡¯aok sat on a throne made of the skulls of his past conquests. On a screen in the far end of the room played the deaths of thousands of worlds. Gr¡¯aok nodded in satisfaction. The footage ended then was replaced by footage of his next target. It was a small planet, orbited by a lone moon and composed of two-thirds water.


    ¡°Data,¡± Gr¡¯aok muttered to the ship¡¯s AI. ¡°Give me all the data!¡± At once, Gr¡¯aok almost fell off of his throne as the AI interpreted his request rather liberally.


    ¡°Why the hell did I need the entire history of this planet beamed into my brain?!¡° He yelled. There was no response.


    Slowly, as he began to understand what he was processing, he smiled, showing two rows of jagged teeth. ¡°Ha! Nothing but kittens!¡± He laughed, the sound echoing across the room. ¡°This conquest shall be trivial.¡±


    Suddenly, a klaxon sounded in the room. The AI had decided that a visitor was needed. In the center of the room, Gr¡¯aok watched as a two-legged creature materialised; it yawned as it dropped a can with ¡®BUD¡¯ on the side of it, then scratched at an appendage on its rear with one of its limbs.


    Gr¡¯aok was incensed. ¡°I am Gr¡¯aok, destroyer of worlds, subjugator of countless species. Identify yourself, interloper!¡± His voice was loud enough to rattle bone.


    The human, dressed in underwear and a stained dressing gown, looked around, appearing confused. ¡°Uhhhh¡­¡± he replied, ¡°I¡¯m Dave. Damn... I may have drunk too much¡­ What¡¯s this place??¡± Dave, eyes half-lidded, yawned, a piece of drool hanging from his mouth; he stuck his hands into his pockets. One hand re-emerged holding a spoon.


    ¡°Weep, Human.  I am your conqueror.  Your puny race does not- do you not realise who you stand before? How impertinent! I should cut you down where you stand! What in the Ten Rings are you doing?!¡± Gr¡¯aok roared, the room shaking from the baritone of his voice.


    Dave appeared to ignore him, swaying from the effects of the empty can and from the movement of the floor. From his other pocket, he pulled out a jar. ¡°Huuuuh...¡± he muttered. ¡°Weird dream.¡± Dave stumbled a few steps forward until he banged his shin on a table ¡ª though he did not react to the pain ¡ª then glanced round the room, taking in the bones adorning the walls. ¡°Weeeeeeird.¡±


    ¡°HUMAN!¡± Gr¡¯aok¡¯s fury was reaching new heights; a vein on his forehead bulged. ¡°Do you realise the seriousness of the situation you¡¯re in?¡± He jumped to his feet as he grabbed a sword that had been lying on top of the pile of skulls.


    Dave yawned again and replied, ¡°I¡¯m getting a snack, Gock.¡± He proceeded to unscrew the lid of the jar, dip in the spoon, and lift out a portion of its contents. The contents jiggled, wet and glistening with fat, as Dave lifted it to his mouth.  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Human? What are you consuming?¡± Gr¡¯aok, discombobulated by Dave¡¯s actions, took a step forward, and strained his eyes in order to read what was written on the side of the jar.


    ¡°Mrrao,¡± Dave mumbled, then swallowed, coughed, and tried again. ¡°Mayo.¡±


    At this, Gr¡¯aok took a step away from the human. Gr¡¯aok realized somewhere in the massive amount of data his AI had pulled that there were hours of video on how this ¡®MAYO¡¯ substance was made. His eyes widened from a mixture of shock and horror. ¡°Impossible! My data from your world indicates that mayonnaise should only be ingested as part of a healthy, balanced diet!¡± His sword arm was pointed towards Dave, but his grip on the weapon was slack, and his arm was unsteady.  Suddenly, he was being flooded with images of mayonnaise factories and eating challenges.


    Dave rolled his eyes. ¡°It¡¯s 3am, Grok. You try making a sandwich at this time.¡±


    ¡°Dave, my name is Gr¡¯aok¡­ Uhm, what¡¯s a sandwich?¡± At once, his mind was filled with images of sliced bread. This did not answer his query.


    ¡°Whatever, Groot.¡±


    Gr¡¯aok shook his head in disbelief at this alien, Dave, who rather than showing the customary fear instead insisted on eating another tablespoon of mayonnaise. ¡°Such digestive power¡­¡± Gr¡¯aok said. The sentence trailed off as Dave dipped the spoon into the jar a third time, then a fourth, and then a fifth. ¡°Are all humans as strong as you, Dave?¡±


    Dave shrugged. ¡°Dunno. We got some interesting food¡­ You should google ¡®Surstr?mming¡¯...¡± Despite Dave¡¯s inebriated state, his pronunciation of the Swedish word was, rather inexplicably, perfect. ¡°I had a pal that ate a packet of cinnamon once. Does that count?¡±


    Gr¡¯aok¡¯s mouth fell open in shock. The mere mention of Surstr?mming had instantly pulled images of humans eating it into his mind. ¡°Incredible! Dave, I wish to visit your planet. Not as a conqueror, but as a friend. I have underestimated your species¡¯ ability to produce warriors as strong as yourself.¡±


    ¡°Uh, sure, I guess. Ugh¡­¡± Dave clutched his stomach. ¡°Gork, I¡¯m gonna be sick.¡± He glanced around the room, saw that there was no bin to be found amongst the skulls and general viscera, which left him with but one option. So he threw up, covering the nearby table in mayonnaise-infused barf.


    Gr¡¯aok jumped backward to save his clawed feet from the splash, and put a claw to his face in exasperation. ¡°Dave! That table was forged using the heat of a dying sun! It¡¯s irreplaceable!!¡±


    Dave, still clutching his stomach, groaned. ¡°Ugh¡­ sorry, Grop. I think I¡¯ve seen a similar one in IKEA?¡±


    Gr¡¯aok raised an eyebrow. ¡°Then we must go at once. Which star system is this ¡®IKEA¡¯ in?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s 3.04am, Gurt. They¡¯re closed.¡±


    At this, Gr¡¯aok screamed in frustration, and threw his sword so hard that it jammed itself into the nearest wall. ¡°I regret ever thinking of conquering your planet, you mayonnaise-infested fiends!