“Oh fine,” replied one of the men. The other said nothing. Harrison didn’t attempt to make conversation again as they helped him tie up the boat.

“Well, thank you chaps! By the way, do you know if that small diner on Second Street is still there? I haven’t been here in a few years.”

“Yes, it’s still there,” one of the men replied.

“Thank you! Well, goodbye!” He nodded politely then walked away. Neither of the men said goodbye, and Harrison thought their unfriendliness seemed strange. It was like there minds were on another world or something. But then again, not everyone was cheerful.

After paying for his boat to stay there, he walked the short walk to the small café. He chose a spot at the counter and was looking at the menu when two men sat on either side of him. He turned to look at each of them. Both were large, muscular men, wearing all black and staring at Harrison. “Hello there sir. You don’t look familiar, are you new in town?” the man on his right asked.

“Well I haven’t been here in about two years. I just came from the island about half an hour ago.”

“Ah. And what island would that be? Do you live there?”

“Pitcairn Islands. And yes, I live there. And if you don’t mind me asking, why are you asking me all these questions?”

“Curiosity my friend. We just like to get to know the people in town. Now just one more question if you don’t mind. Is the water that you drink on that island any different than the water elsewhere?”

“Why yes but why-“ he was knocked unconscious by the man to his left.

When he woke up Harrison found himself in a small brightly lit room. The walls were cold metal, and it was empty except for himself. The door was of course locked. He ran his hand through his hair then scooted over to sit against the back wall. He wondered what the hell was going on. It must’ve been a misunderstanding, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And who were those two guys? They weren’t wearing police uniforms, but they might have been undercover. There was hardly any crime in the area, so it couldn’t a gang. Unless one had moved in during the past two years, which Harrison felt was doubtful. A cool female voice suddenly came from the ceiling, where Harrison noticed a speaker when he looked up.

“We hope you are all right. Please be patient, and Bernice will be seeing you soon.” Harrison wondered who Bernice was. The chief of police maybe? Although so far this seemed like a pretty strange prison, not that Harrison had much experience in those. Maybe I should stop guessing and wait and see what happens, he thought.

About ten minutes later, two men walked in. They looked very similar to the ones from the café, but after a closer look he realized they were different men. “Get up,” one of them ordered. “Bernice will see on now.” Harrison slowly stood up. One of the men grabbed him and quickly handcuffed him. With one man holding each of his arms they led him out of the room and down the hall. After an elevator ride and several turns they stopped in front of a large wooden door. Than man on Harrison’s right sharply knocked and a voice said “enter.” The man opened the door and they walked in.

The room was a fairly large office, lined with bookcases, none of which contained books, but rather a large variety of strange items. In the center of the room was a large wooden desk, and behind it was a large chair, more like a throne than a chair. In the throne sat a man. His brown hair was graying, and his face was expressionless. His cold blue-green eyes stared into Harrison’s making a chill run down his spine. There was something very eerie about this man. In front of the desk was a simple wooden chair that didn’t look very comfortable. Harrison was shoved into the wooden chair and the two men stood behind him.

“Hello, I am Bernice. First of all, are you feeling all right?” He had a strange accent that Harrison couldn’t place.

“Yes, I feel fine. But I’m very confused as to wh-“

“Good. What is your name?” The man interrupted.

“Harrison. And may I ask why-“

“No. No questions allowed from you. Where do you live?”

“Pitcairn Islands.”

“Who lives there with you?” Bernice continued.

“Would you first please explain-“

“No. Who lives there with you?”

“Aaron Thatcher and his daughters.”

“Really. You live on an island only with another man and his children? Interesting.”

“Yes, I’m the butler. Are you trying to imply something?”

“Of course not. Also, what did I say about asking questions? Now, what do your duties as butler include?”

“Well in a way I’m more than the butler. I am the local entertainer, cook, mental support, chimney sweep, official ribbon-tier, nanny, pet caretaker, substitute hair brusher and banana peeler in cases of fractured arms, lost-monkey finder, gold fish feeder, brave rescuer of drowning young girls in oceans and fish ponds, and much more,“ Harrison explained with a small smile.

“Interesting, very interesting. Now tell me about the water on your island.”

“I don’t see how that is significant to anything.”

“It’s significance is insignificant to you. Answer the question now.”

“Well, Mr. Thatcher filters it using this special plant.”

“What plant is this?”

“I have no idea what it’s called. I’ve never seen anything like it before and I know quite a bit about plants. He never told me either. Kept that secret to himself. I know he found it when we moved to the island.”

“I would like to meet this Mr. Thatcher. Pitcairn Islands is where you live? I will have someone go there. Now as for what to do with you…what did you say your name was again?”

“Harrison.”

“Ah, yes, Harrison. What an peculiar name. Now, as for what to do with you. The most logical thing is to make you like the rest of the humans. However, the most logical course is not always my favourite. No, I would like to attempt a little experiment on you,” he said with a sly smile.

“An experiment?!” Harrison was alarmed. “What do you mean experiment? Who are you anyways? You talk about humans like you’re not one, though you certainly look like one to me!” Bernice chuckled.

“You’ll find out soon enough. I am not a human. Neither are most of the people who work for me. We are Fordavians to be specific. However I believe humans prefer the term ‘aliens’.”

“Aliens? Are you joking?” Bernice chuckled again.

“Of course I’m not joking. You humans appear to never believe anything.”

“Well aliens are not something we’ve ever had proof existed so we question things such as this,” Harrison explained.

“I wouldn’t think humans would need proof to believe something. That seems apparent in your religion. However I’d rather not get into a discussion about your religion. That was the most unpleasant topic I studied in regards to humans. Now would you like to know your fate?”

“I suppose I don’t have a say in the matter.”

“How would you, Harrison, like to be a…butler I believe the word was? For an alien?” He gave Harrison a large, creepy looking smile.

“Vi . . . psstt!  Violet!” whispered Florence to her sister as they lay in their beds across the room from each other.  “Are you awake Violet?”

“Yeah!  I can’t possibly sleep.  This is just too . . . awesome!” answered Violet in the same hushed tone.

“I know, right?!  I don’t know why Dad is so freaked out about this.  But I wish Harrison was here. . .  I’m worried about him,” said Florence.

“Me too.  I do hope he’s alright.  I can’t imagine what it would be like to never see Harrison again.  I believe he’s still alive . . .  But while we’re both here . . . What do you want to do?”

“Well . . . we could read that diary we found today.  That was pretty interesting,” suggested Florence.  With that, she reached under her pillow and pulled out the old, battered diary.  Violet tip-toed over to Florence’s bed, and they turned on a lamp and cuddled to read . . .

September 13^th

Hello again.  It’s still me, Becka.  Gosh, I don’t even remember the last time I wrote in this thing. . .  The last time I was in Russia I left this diary here.  That was back when I was twelve.  Well, now I’m twenty, and I’m only back in Russia to go to this wedding for a relative I’ve never even met before.  I guess my life still isn’t that interesting since the last time I wrote in this diary. . .  It’s still really weird to be writing in this. . .  I can’t believe I wrote about that jerk Christopher all the time when I was twelve. . .  But Jake, my younger brother, still is really, really, really annoying.

Bye, Becka

September 13^th, but at night

So I can’t sleep.  This big old Russian house always gave me the heeby-geebies.

When I opened this diary to write in it this morning, a letter fell out.  It looked pretty old, but it wasn’t dated, so I couldn’t tell just how old it was.  It’s written in this pretty handwriting that looks like my mom’s.  In the letter, it talked about how the writer, Anna, misses her sister, a girl named Danika.  It goes on and on about how much she misses Danika, how their home isn’t this same since Danika got kidnapped, and how her entire family is always acting all torn up about the whole ordeal.  Danika, Danika, Danika.  I guess the little girl must’ve been pretty important, huh?  It kind of sounded like the whole family revolved around her.  The writer describes how Danika had so much energy, and she was always so perky that she made everyone else feel animated.  I guess it would be pretty depressing if the centerpiece of your family was stolen.  Towards the end of the letter there are little splotches of water on the page that smudge the ink.  I think they’re tears.  Poor Anna.  Poor Danika. If my younger brother Jake were kidnapped, I’d be pretty stoked.

I think these people were in my family.  I know that the girl Anna was my grandmother, but she passed away the last time I was in Russia when I was twelve.  That must mean that this Danika person was my great aunt.  Wow.  My great aunt was kidnapped when she was just a kid.  Weird.  Maybe that little girl in the pictures I found last time I was here is Danika.  I can just imagine that cute little tot running around the house all day with that pale pink tutu on, refusing to take it off.  She’s so precious.  I can see how she would brighten people’s days.  I’m thoroughly creeped out now. Little Danika Nesbit sounds like quite a character.

Florence peeked over at her sister, who was peacefully snoring softly.  Sleepily, Florence tucked the diary back under her pillow and turned out her light.

***********************************

The next day, the Thatcher twins decided to ‘people-watch’.

“Oh, Violet, I feel restless!  We’ve been cooped up in this house for an entire day!  I miss the beaches, and ocean, and the trees!” whined Florence with a wistful expression on her face.

“Florence!  Nyarl Nyarl Incy-Fustular can be just as fun and as interesting as a beach or the ocean!  Here, let me show you,” exclaimed Violet, and with that she pulled her twin sister over to the window of their room.

Outside of the window it was just another typical and boring day to the fine occupants of Nyarl Nyarl Incy-Fustular.  But to Florence and Violet, it was another world – literally.

They had never seen such boredom.  Everything was gray.  The streets, the buildings, even every piece of clothing on display in store’s windows.  The only splashes of colour came from the hair of the aliens.  It was either a blazing shade of pink, or a brilliant electric blue.    Florence and Violet had always thought a city would be a bustling place to be – never a dull moment.  This was certainly not the case with this planet.

The Tibhadens walked far away from each other, as if they preferred not to touch anything.  Even a little Tibhaden boy walked a couple feet away from his mother.  They walked stiffly; it almost looked like they were marching.  All of their expressions remained stoic and unreadable.  If you were to guess what any one of the aliens was thinking just by looking at his or her expression you would not have been able to decipher their thoughts.  Their faces looked slightly humanoid.  Apart from the hair there really was no difference between the two species’ appearances, other than the fact that all the Tibhadens kept a permanent, impassive look of nonchalance plastered on their faces.

Florence and Violet pointed and gawked at the aliens with disbelief.  How could any planet be so . . . stupendously dull? Everyone and everything on the planet (or so it seemed to Florence and Violet) pretty much summed up the essence of the word boring.

Florence and Violet pondered for the rest of the day, how could Tibsen and Quadenhaden come from this emotionally desolate, monotonous world?

DO NOT TOUCH OR READ

IF YOU READ IT, I WILL KNOW!!!

NOW GO AWAY!

(no, not you 40 year old Becka, you can still read it )

January 15^th

I got this diary for Christmas, but still haven’t used it.

This is weird.

What am I supposed to do now, write my secrets so that Jake can read them??!!

NO WAY!

( Jake, if you are reading this, I swear to you, I’ll hunt you down, and you don’t wanna know the rest!)

I hate having a stupid younger annoying, boring and again annoying brother…( yes, Jake, I DO mean you….)

Ugh..

Okay, now I don’t know what else to write, so I’m just gonna go.. Okay?

Bye, Becka

January 19^th

It was Jake’s birthday yesterday… Why, oh why did he even have to be born stupid eight years ago?! The worst eight years of my life.. Maybe if he was a girl it would be better.. Not that he’s far from looking like one..

So, all of his friends were here, and that means that the house was full of screaming children. The only good thing is that there was cake. Not that I was completely covered in it when Adrien (Jake’s lame BFF) started the food fight.

Yeah.

Oh, and well, I saw Christopher when he came to pick up his sister with his parents. Aww, he is just so cute and adorable and I really like him. I mean, he is three years older than me, but so what?!?! He smiled at me, you know.. And I was so happy!

All of my friends say (including Danielle!) that we are too young for relationships now. Is twelve really that young?! Well, I object to that… I like Christopher, and they’ll see how cool it is to have a boyfriend when the two of us get together…

Oh, I think I’m in love… You know, this diary thing really isn’t that bad. I’m starting to like this

Beckah

January 21^st

Oh that stupid idiot!!

I saw him today, in school, during lunch break, kissing, yes, K-I-S-S-I-N-G that stupid girl from his class… what’s her name? Mona?! What kind of a name is that?!

He’s a jerk. And to think I actually believed we had something special. I mean, he smiled at me!!!!

Why is he sending me mixed signals!! Oh, I’m going to bed… And this diary does suck…

February 2^nd

Apparently my grandma died… Or was she my great grandmother?!?

I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve ever seen her in my entire life…

She like, lives in Russia, and now we have to fly there. Great…

See ya in Russia.. -.-

February 4^th

So, we’re now in Russia, it is cold (I can actually freeze to death here), and with snow falling from the sky the whole time.

I’m pretty much in the house most of the time. But only it’s not a house, it’s a freaking mansion… I think I’ll pretend I’m sick tomorrow (they are going to visit some relatives

–> BORING! / the last thing I need right now are old ladies pinching my cheeks the whole time… Thanks, but no thanks… I think I’ll pass..) and then explore around the house.

Maybe I’ll find somebody’s diary! Oh yay!

Oh, shoot, mum’s coming – gotta go be sick!

February 5^th

You will not believe all of the awesome things I found today… I found some books in Russian, and some jewelry (pretty!), some photos, and family portraits…

I found a few pictures with this cute little girl, but I have no idea who she might be. She must be dead or something by now… I’ll ask mum tomorrow…

February 6^th

Oh, so mum didn’t have an answer to my question, and we’re leaving tomorrow, although I want to stay now and find out who that girl is, I think she looks a bit like me…

So that obviously means that she’s pretty!

I’m gonna glue the picture here. I gotta go pack now…

Love, Becka <3

“Is that the girl –” Florence asked looking at the cute baby girl in a tutu in the old picture.

“I think so…” Violet replied. “Wow, this is so interesting!” she added.

“Yeah, I like that love part” Florence said, lying down on the bed.

“What love part? There is no actual love” Violet corrected her sister, as she lied next to her, laughing.

“Oh, well, she is in love with that Christopher boy…” Florence said, looking up at the ceiling. Then she turned back to her sister, her eyes finding Violet’s.

“Don’t you ever wonder what it must feel like, to be in love?” she asked her seriously.

“I don’t know. It’s not like we ever had a chance to fall in love with anyone other than Amadeus,” Violet replied joking.

“Oh, that would certainly be a great relationship, with a goldfish,” Florence said laughing, “One day you would just come home from work, tired, realize that you have no food for dinner, and wouldn’t feel like going to the store, and just eat your boyfriend / fish / friend / husband instead.”

“Um… Girls? They sent me to go get you,” Aaron Wells Thatcher said from a little elevator that took him upstairs, to the room his daughters were joking at the moment.

“What is that you’re wearing?” Florence asked with a grimace.

“Umm… They gave me some kind of a spacesuit…” he replied checking the suit.

“Will we get them too?” Violet asked excitedly.

“I… I don’t know… We really should get going down there. They already declared us rude Earth people for changing Gadenhalden’s home; I don’t want them to think we don’t respect them because of this procrastination in here.”

“Geldunhaden,” Violet replied.

“What?” Thatcher asked.

“That’s his name, Geldunhaden,” Florence tried to teach her father.

“Well, what did I say?!” he replied. “I might be dressed funny, but thankfully I still have some brains, or as Miss Tibsen would say it, I still haven’t lost my sanity. C’mon girls, chop chop. The clock is ticking, and the time is sipping. I have a little hunch that now is the right time for lunch!”

“When did you become so poetical?” Violet asked getting up from the bed and entering the elevator.

“Oh, well… Adventures in outer space can really change a man and help him find some of his hidden talents,” Thatcher joked as the metal door of the elevator closed.

Written by Laura Roman

Click here for The Seventh Chapter

“But father, it wasn’t us,” Violet said, looking innocently at her father’s troubled face.

“Then who was it!?” Thatcher asked, confused and completely overwhelmed by the situation.

And then, suddenly, a little round robot-like creature came out of the shade and started staring at Thatcher.

“Oh my, what is that?!” Aaron shook his head toward Tibsen, pointing with his finger at the little robot that was quite amused by Thatcher’s lack of knowledge. And then, it spoke.

“Hello! Who are you? Why are you here? Do you want to play?” it said in Dorieu.

“KEP!” Tibsen shouted, turning away from the control board and leaving Quadenhaden to deal with the coordinates alone.

The little creature ran away to the other room, leading to the rest of the PEEPs and the Thatchers could soon hear Tibsen yelling at them in a very strange language, that sounded different from the one she spoke earlier to Quadenhaden.

“Tibsen! Useless you shout! They study not never!” Quaden wisely told her when she came back a few minutes later.

“Excuse me…” Florence started.

“…but we are a bit confused… Could you…” Violet continued, looking at her sister.

“…please, tell us…“ Florence took over, cautiously glancing at a now mad Tibsen and completely indifferent Quadenhaden who was trying to figure out some numbers on the little green screen on the left side of the control board.

“…what the hell just happened?” Thatcher ended in an angry and frustrated tone.

“Nequem niih zulder waa?” Quadenhaden whispered to Tibsen, staring at the little family while biting his lip.

“Pata, niih tround,” Tibsen replied with a sigh, and then turned to the girls and Aaron.

“Well, it seems that the PEEPs just blew up your island.”

“And us sorry much for this,” Quadenhaden quickly added with an sympathetic look on his face, and Violet would swear that his eyes were a bit too watery.

“But why would they do that? They don’t seem that dangerous,” Florence asked, shooting an adoring look at the, what she found, adorable pink robot that was holding a purple flower in its little metal hand.

“Apparently, they were playing a game…” Tibsen said, looking at the PEEPs reproachfully.

“A GAME! You mean to say we are now homeless people because of some stupid game!? But… What are we supposed to do now? How will we survive? And there’s no water nor food on this ship… And what about Harrison?! We can’t just leave him there… Oh that poor lad…” Thatcher said and desperately crashed in a white chair that stood behind him.

“Don’t worry, we have other fluids and foods. And I’m not sure how much longer you would be safe on Earth anyway. As for the island, I am afraid it is now completely gone…” Tibsen replied.

“Finido!” Tap yelled from a corner of the room imitating Spanish and wearing a worn out sombrero.

“Hey, where did you get that from?” Violet asked, approaching the lime green PEEP. But Tap didn’t have the time to answer even if he wanted to, because the next moment another robot came to the room, a bright red one, to be precise.

“Quiero ir a la playa! Soy una chica muy linda! Eeee Macarenaaa!“ it sang, completely out of tune, while listening to an MP3-player and dancing around like crazy.

“Amp! Stop it!” Tibsen told him, but the girls had a feeling that he just wasn’t going to listen to her. And they were right.

“Is that a… How did you…“ Florence tried to ask Tibsen, but was soon interrupted by another session of Amp’s screaming, uh, I mean, singing. The other PEEPs decided to join in the party, and there were now eight of them, each one dancing in its own peculiar way.

“Quaden, we have to do something about them,” Tibsen said to him, upset. “I don’t know how much longer I can take their attitude.”

“Donto, qewn wuf waf,” Quadenhaden said and then slowly walked to the center of the room, raised both of his arms in the air and looked at the floor with his eyes closed.

The Thatchers looked at him completely speechless, while Tibsen took over navigation. They didn’t know what to expect, whether he would now start yelling at them, or if he was just praying for salvation.

But they most certainly didn’t see this coming. The PEEPs stopped dancing and surrounded Quadenhaden, so he was now in the center of a small circle. Amp turned off the music player, and took off the headphones, and then they heard Tibsen saying “Okay, ready?” The next thing Thatchers knew, the lights turned off, new lights in different colors d Quadenhaden was now dancing in the middle, looking completely foolish, and the PEEPs seemed out of this world happy, as they all joined hands and danced around him.

The girls stood by the side, not believing their eyes, and Thatcher had had enough for one day anyway, so he decided it was okay for him to pass out now. So he did.

And as the girls felt compelled to join in the party – and were ready to do so – Kep, the terribly paranoid and worried purple PEEP, all of a sudden started screaming:

“We’re all gonna die! There is no way out! Noo! Wait! What was that? It is the waffels!! They are going to kill us! Noo! Run, run for your lives!” and then it ran away trying to find a hiding place.

So, the little party was over, and the PEEPs’ amusement needs were satisfied, and they decided to go play hide and seek around the ship. And Violet could swear that at least one of them had the intention to hide outside of it.

“Here, that should do it,” Tibsen said as they put Thatcher on a white surface that they used as a bed. “Are you girls going to be okay here? Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked them caringly.

“No thank you, Miss Tibsen,” Violet said with a warm smile.

“We’ll be just fine,” Florence added, and then yawned.

“Yes, okay, speaking enough. You two boys needs sleep, for a much hard day you lived yesterday, or is it today?” Quadenhaden said as the girls climbed up the white soft blocks, and said goodnight once again.

He closed the door, and walked over to Tibsen who leaned against the wall, stroking her hair.

“Now what?” she asked him, with a tired smile.

“Now we go watch Geldunhaden,” he replied seriously, nodded to confirm his words one more time, and then headed to his cabin, while Flip happily jumped behind him, following like a faithful dog.

“Good morning, are you feeling any better?“ Florence asked her father, who just came into the room, holding his head with his right hand, blinking, and rubbing his left eye with his left hand.

“What happened?” was all he could say at that moment. He noticed that his house looked somewhat different the moment he woke up in a white room on a soft white block that didn’t quite resemble his bed. He heard some voices outside, and decided to follow them. And now he was in what was supposed to be his dining room, his head pulsing from pain as if he drank too much the other night, but he couldn’t recall such an event.

“Oh, well, you just passed out last… let’s call it night, after Quadenhaden started dancing with the PEEPs, and so Tibsen and Quady helped us bring you to the guest room,” Violet answered, munching on something that resembled an energy bar.

“What did you just say?” he said, sitting on a chair next to his daughters. “And what are those?” he asked, pointing to Sif and Bani.

“Well two of the PEEPs, dad. Don’t you remember anything?” Florence replied, visibly concerned.

“Yes this is Sif,” Violet said, and Sif looked down with a sheepish smile. “And this is Bani,” she added pointing at the dark blue PEEP who just growled at Thatcher, and continued to sit on the chair looking at everybody as if they were about to attack him.

“He has some issues,” Florence whispered to her father.

“Oh, you’re up!” Tibsen said surprised as she entered the room.

“Who are you?” Thatcher asked, still holding his head and squinting.

“Well, I’m Tibsen of course,” she replied, pouring a glass of pink liquid from a carafe.

“Wait!” Thatcher replied, getting up all of a sudden. “This is not my house!” he said, terrified.

“Bingo,” Violet said, but Aaron ignored her.

“Wait,” he said once again, and rushed towards Tibsen, grabbing her by her shoulders, looking at her like a mad scientist. “You mean to say that it wasn’t just a bad dream? That I really am on a spaceship with… aliens?!”

“Yes, you really are on a ship with aliens, and you really could use a toothbrush,” Tibsen replied turning away from him.

Thatcher crashed once again in a bright yellow plastic dining chair in complete despair.

“Here, drink this, it will do you good. And, um… Try to get something done with your hair, we’re landing soon, and I don’t want dear old Geldunhaden to get an emotional attack when he sees three humans, and particularly you looking like that.”

“We’re landing?” he said, looking up at her with a grimace.

“Yes father, isn’t that exciting?” Violet said with a wide grin.

“But… but… Where?” was all his just-out-of-bed-self could mumble.

“To Nylar Fuslar… Iscay…” Florence tried, and then looked up at Tibsen. “Ugh, I still can’t remember it, could you tell me again?”

“To Nyarl Nyarl Incy-Fustular,” Tibsen said with a big smile. “Now, go help your father get ready,” she added as she walked out of the room. A moment later, she came back.

“Come, this way,” the girls repeated to Thatcher as they walked through long hallways filled with various paintings that showed different human emotions. Thatcher found one with a waitress in some Wild West Inn smiling at them with her two teeth, her greasy hair in a messy bun, her bright red dress that went well with the same color of her cheeks, particularly interesting.

“Violet, I think this is the one,” Florence said to her sister when they got in front of a door. But that wasn’t just some random door. It was a completely, most certainly, a human’s front door. It was brown and massive and had a little door knock, and a peephole, and most importantly; the name tag was still on, and it said Akin Volvapic.

“What’s this?” Thatcher asked, and all he got as a reply was “Shush!” and “You’ll see!”.

And indeed, Thatcher saw the moment later what was behind the door; he stood on the doorstep not believing his eyes, while his daughters rushed in, browsing around.

“Where did they get all of this?!” he said, his voice just a bit too high to be considered masculine. “Did they steal it?!”

“Oh father, please,” Violet said while picking up a little elephant figurine that stood on the coffee table.

“Don’t be silly,” Florence added, sitting on a brown leather couch.

“Then where did they get all of this? It is all human stuff!” Thatcher replied entering the room, looking around as if he was in some sort of museum. “And why aren’t the two of you at all surprised?!”

“Well, you were unconscious for a while, and Quady and Tibs showed us around,” Florence explained, going through the pages of an ancient book.

“And they told us that, back on Nyarl-Nyarl Incy-Fustular – did I get it right, Flo?” (and Florence nodded amazed), “back on their home planet, while Quaden was still just a little boy, he had this sort of a wormhole that shot things from earth to his room.”

“Isn’t that an awesome bedroom?” Florence added with a smile.

“So…” Thatcher started looking around cautiously, “You mean to say that none of this is actually stolen?”

“No sir. Nothing.”

“But look at this,” he continued, pointing to an old gramophone. “Some of these things are ancient!”

“Oh, so what,” Florence replied, getting up. “Come on, we have to find you some clothes; here is the wardrobe. Violet, would you be so kind and put on some music?”

Florence took her father behind a wall full of various pictures – some of being of great value – and behind a piano, when they finally got to the wardrobe. She opened it, and clothes from all over the world and from different times were just waiting to be worn again. Soon, fifties music started, and Violet came to help her sister choose the right outfit, and they did so while having so much fun, and dancing around in pretty dresses despite the objection of their father.

A while later, they were leaving the room, and Violet stayed behind to turn off the music.

“We’ll be waiting in the control room, okay?” Florence said, wearing a bright pink eighties tracksuit with light blue leg warmers, her hair in a nice ponytail with a headband that matched the leg warmers perfectly.

Violet turned off the gramophone, took out the record, and as she was trying to put it safely in its paper case, it fell down on the floor. She quickly got down on her knees, hoping it didn’t break – if you’re wondering, it didn’t, but that’s not the point now – and she saw something under the couch. She got closer, reached to get it and grabbed it. She took it to the light and it seemed to be a diary of some kind. As she was about to turn to the first page and read it, she heard footsteps outside, and quickly hid it in a bag that she decided to carry.

“Violence, you ready soon are?” Quadenhaden asked with a wide smile. “You look handsome much,” he added.

Violet looked at herself in the mirror. She looked quite funny, wearing a sparkly red dress that looked kind of medieval with its puffy sleeves, and it was actually a Halloween princess costume. But she didn’t care, because who was there to judge her style?

“Well at least I look better than dad,” she thought to herself, and she was right, because what Aaron Wells Thatcher was forced to wear was absolutely horrendous.

He wore a white eighteenth century shirt that was now yellowish and had lots of neck and wrist ruffles, and some rapper’s jeans that were constantly slipping down, which drove him nuts, red All Stars, and to top it off a floor long gothic black leathery jacket.

“Thank you, Quady, you’re not so bad yourself,” she told him, smiling.

“Hurry now, we on ground. Geldunhaden, my sister, very much want to see me and my new friends,” he said, and the next moment they could feel the ship shaking a bit, and Quadenhaden started jumping up and down instantly. “We’re here!” he exclaimed excitedly and rushed away from the room, and Violet just followed.

They all stood in a small hallway facing a pink wall of the Daisi Beravatstus 1021.
“Nyarl Nyarl Incy-Fustular; 3421508, Tibnulla of Rothquod’s; house, two stories, owner: Geldunhaden of Blinkquod. Temperature: 2152 billies, a few mammatus clouds, Ranhappy is happily shining today, the date is 67. Loopaf of the year 5288 in Yuralhaden calendar. It is a warm sunny day. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay.“

“Boy, am I glad Syelims upgraded Daisi; we now know the forecast when we land somewhere even before we get out of the ship,“ Tibsen told the others, all of them still staring at the bright pink wall.

“Opening the exit. Please stand still. Do not make any sudden movements,“ the computer lady’s soft voice said, and around a meter wide part of the wall started rising slowly, and the stairs unfolded themselves, out of nowhere, to the ground. They stepped out of the ship cautiously, observing the scenery.

“But –” Florence stuttered.

“It’s raining!” Violet finished while warm tropical rain poured down her face.

“Yes, it can do that, the computer,” Tibsen replied, looking displeased. “We’ll tell Syelims to fix it when we visit him later.”

“Hello brother! How have you been?”

“Fine,” Geldunhaden replied, looking behind Quadenhaden’s shoulder. “Who are they?” he asked with a questioning tone.

“Well, yes, that is why I’m here,” Quadenhaden answered.

“Hello Tibsen,” Geldunhaden nodded to her and she smiled at him, which he to this day didn’t know how to comprehend.

“So who are the rest of them?” he added after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

“Well, you see… How can I put this… Maybe you should sit down. Hm… It is quite an interesting story…“ Quadenhaden started. and Geldunhaden immediately knew that something was wrong. He knew that, the second he opened the door and saw three newcomers – all dressed in a funny fashion – looking at him like he was some attraction in the Wapuffs, their eyes full of excitement. And, yet again, there was the “Maybe you should sit down?”, and now he had no doubt – his brother had done it again. But how could he possibly out-top the Tibsen-incident?

“They are earthlings,” Tibsen interrupted Quadenhaden’s rambling.

“What?”

“What did he say?” Thatcher asked, listening to the tense conversation of three aliens in Koksmutib of which he didn’t understand a word.

“Did you tell him?” Florence continued the interrogation.

“Earthlings,” Tibsen told Geldunhaden again, ignoring the humans’ questions.

“You mean, like from earth?” Geldun asked again, looking cautiously at the little family behind his brother and Tibsen.

“Yes, that’s what we mean. Now can we please come in?” Quadenhaden responded, eager to get into the house and away from the rain which irritated him quite a lot now.

Geldunhaden stood there frowning for a while; the Thatchers feeling slightly uncomfortable and unwanted. They expected to be welcomed a bit more heartily.

“Oopla tand,” he finally said giving them room to get in the narrow hallway-like place. They followed him to the dark room, through ugly gray walls.

As they entered a big room with no windows or furniture of any kind (that was certainly a surprise), the ground suddenly started shaking, lights flashing here and there, and a low threatening sound emerged from the middle of the room, scaring both Thatcher and the twins.

“Oh, no…” Geldunhaden said. “You didn’t explain it to them, did you?” he asked his brother.

“No, I didn’t,” Quaden replied, feeling guilty and very ashamed.

The charade lasted for a minute, after which a dense fog filled the room, making it impossible to see even the tip of one’s nose. It soon faded away, and the Thatchers were now even more shocked than before.

They were standing in a large room, with big windows, and curtains, armchairs, sofas and a coffee table.

“It is our living room!” Violet finally said.

“But… But how?” Thatcher asked, looking desperately for an answer to this craziness.

“Oh, we didn’t explain this earlier, we apologize. You see, our homes are very, how you earthlings would say it, high tech. That means that our technology is very, very advanced, to the levels you humans can’t even dream of. So, every Tibhaden home is designed to fill the needs of the people that are currently in it, and then it replicates the most suitable environment for them and their pleasure. Since you came in, and didn’t know this, or how to restrain your desire of home, the house immediately felt your needs and changed dear old Geldie’s reception room to your living room. Even though that is not a polite thing to do when you’re a guest in someone’s home, and even though Geldunhaden didn’t want his house changed, he backed off of his desires and demands, because he knows you’re not aware of this. After all, it is your fist time. And humans desire more intensely than Tibhadens do. So it is as simple as that.“

“Niih rothqua fanfan,” Quadenhaden told his brother quietly and then gave Tibsen a significant look, after which she approached the girls.

“Why don’t you girls go to the other room, you can make it look like any room you want to, while the rest of us talk,” she told them.

“Why can’t we listen too?” Florence asked, not wanting to leave.

“No, actually, some time alone will do us good, we have to spend some quality sister time, and we could make the room look like our old bedroom! It will be fun,“ Violet interrupted, grabbing Florence’s hand.

Florence gave her sister a puzzled look, but Tibsen didn’t seem to notice that.

“Okay, just go to that wall, and say ‘Fanwalla’, and a little elevator will come and take you upstairs. Don’t come back down until we call you, alright?” Tibsen continued, and turned her back on them as she walked towards the couch Thatcher was sitting on.

“What was that all about!? How could you just agree with her?! I don’t want to be left out of the conversation!” Florence raised her tone, while sitting on her old bed in the replica of their bedroom.

“Oh, Florence, shush!” Violet said as she went through her bag, apparently looking for something.

“Don’t shush me!” Florence replied, still angry with her sister.

“Alright, here it is,” Violet said excitedly and hurried to Florence. She sat on the bed, with a filthy black book in her hands. Florence was still not willing to look at her.

“What’s that?” she asked after a few seconds, observing Violet’s every move from a distant corner of the bed.

“Oh, would you please stop it and come here.” Violet looked at her impatiently.

Florence came closer, now sitting near her sister looking at the mystery in Violet’s hands.

“What is it?” she whispered.

“I think it is a diary of some kind…” Violet replied.

Florence looked up at her sister’s big eyes.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked, and then they opened the first page of the long forgotten diary, once a possession of a Rebecka Smith.

Written by Laura Roman

Click here for the Sixth Chapter

I’m joking, of course they did.

Now, back to the staggering conversation in the living room.

In the middle of a rather pointless remark Thatcher was making on the quite peculiar way Quadenhaden and Tibsen were drinking their tea, Violet turned towards Florence with the sort of loud gasp that abruptly ends all current conversation in the room.

“Florence!” she burst out and stared at Florence with a haunted look in her bright eyes.

“Violet?” Thatcher asked with a worried-father-tone in his voice. “What’s the matter?”

When looking into her sister’s familiar and troubled eyes, Florence was instantly struck by the same thought and gasped as well. They turned towards their father with bewildered faces.

“Harrison”, was all that they said, and there was no need to say anything else.

A silence entered the room. It was the kind of silence that makes you oblivious to if it has lasted an eternity or the quarter of a second. I can tell you though, if you’re curious, that it certainly did not last the quarter of a second.

Finally, someone had enough. And quite naturally it was Quadenhaden, who had no idea who this Harrison person was – in fact, he wasn’t entirely sure of what a Harrison was – and he was undoubtedly the most impatient and eager character in the room.

“Happen what is?” he asked curiously and eagerly, but to his defense he did try to keep it serious, very much aware of the warning glare Tibsen shot at him as she cleared her throat.

“If you do not mind me asking, what just happened? What is this ‘Harrison’ you are speaking of?” Tibsen asked Thatcher with a confused look.

“Harrison,” Thatcher started, “is our… Well, butler, I suppose you could say. He is more of a helping friend, though”, Thatcher said with a miserable look on his face; one that Quadenhaden genuinely recognized from own experience.

“Buttlah?” Tibsen asked curiously.

“Butler, yes,” Florence said gloomily. “It is someone who helps us with cooking and cleaning and such. Well… at least that’s what our butler does.”

“Really? You actually use humans for that purpose?” Tibsen asked, apparently stunned.

“Well, you make it sound so appalling, but yes, for many things…” Thatcher started but was interrupted by Tibsen.

“Back to the point,” she said. “What about this butler?”

“He – Harrison – is…” Thatcher’s voice broke and he cleared his throat before he continued. “You see, a couple of weeks ago he went away to gather the usual supplies we need to stay here on the island – food, paper, clothes, books, equipment…”

“And he hasn’t come back yet”, Violet interrupted. “He’s late, and we can’t reach him on his telephone.”

“And as you two have just made clear”, Florence went on anxiously, “Earth – with the exception of our island – doesn’t seem particularly safe, does it?”

“No”, Tibsen agreed. “You are quite right. Just as we said; not particularly safe for either life or sanity.”

Quadenhaden sighed.

“Make help for something is?” he asked.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Tibsen translated. “Chimey patinkioh Nog-bog”, she mumbled quietly to Quadenhaden.

“I –“ Thatcher began but was interrupted by the kind of sound some authors like to describe as “KABOOM” or “BANG”, but which really sounded more like a remarkably loud and complex ”BRHOMMBGLHBHDTH”.

Five distressed pairs of eyes met and the next moment all five of them – both human and Tibhaden – rushed out of the Thatcher residence to see what had happened. Another remarkably loud and complex “BRHOMMBGHBHDTH” sounded through the air, and as the word “earsplitting” came to their minds, another small detail also came to their notice; the ground was shaking. To be more precise, the entire island was shaking.

“View!” yelled Quadenhaden and pointed his arm towards the direction of the sound. They turned around to see what Quadenhaden was pointing at, and stared – quite shocked – at a very far part of the island vanishing in a fiery, but for some reason purple, explosion.

“Gordon Bennett…” Thatcher mumbled.

“Oh no! The PEEPs!” Tibsen exclaimed.

The easiest way of making you fully grasp what Tibsen had realized when she shouted “Oh no! The PEEPs!” would be to tell you two things. Firstly, I would have to explain what a Dori and what a PEEP is. Secondly, I would have to tell you about a certain game that the PEEPs had played earlier aboard Tibsen and Quadenhaden’s ship.

Doris are small and quite marvelous robots, first constructed by Pytte Tie-Knee, who later sold the right of producing them to the highly successful Yaggieyag Vovvov Faliallalilla Industries. It is very odd that Tie-Knee (who was in great need of money) agreed to sell the design of the Dori – which would soon become one of the most well-known robots in the whole universe – for an amount equivalent to merely seven dollars. It is a much odder fact, though, that he was in fact paid in a certain amount of meatballs from Uddevalla in Sweden, that were worth seven dollars. If you desire to dig deeper into the roots of this fascinating yet bewildering coincidence, I really can’t help you. But if you want me to continue with this story, I will, very soon. (If you do not want me to continue however, you still have that beautiful thing called free will which enables you to close this book or press the tiny cross in the upper right of your computer screen).

I believe I am now obliged to move on to the next point; what PEEPs are. In a small village of the planet Nyarl-Nyarl Incy-Fustular, there was a very gifted engineer. His name was Syelims Sarual. Since his planet, Kokobangbeng, suffered a terrible financial crisis, he had moved to Nyarl-Nyarl Incy-Fustular with his parents at a young age, and was quite a loner since there weren’t very many non-Tibhadens on the planet. In his early adulthood however, when he had mastered the Tibhaden language Koksmutib, he finally befriended a Tibhaden called Quadenhaden who soon came to be his closest friend. During their friendship, Syelims Sarual couldn’t help but acknowledge the fact that Quadenhaden had Flomersox Emotional Disorder, that he always did seem inconveniently emotional, and rather depressed because there was nobody to share these overwhelming emotions with – Not even Syelims who after all was from Kokobangbeng and was only on a slightly more emotional level than the Tibhadens. But nobody could deny that he did care for his friend Quadenhaden deeply, and therefore, he made Quadenhaden a gift. He bought eight little Doris and isolated himself from the outside-world for several months to work on making these eight Doris better, more practical, and above all; with the ability of having independent thoughts and emotions. When he considered himself done with all the adjustments, 7 months had passed, and he stepped out of his laboratory with eight small robots behind him. He called them The PEEPs (Pan-Emotional Exoskeletal Prototypes) and gave them the following names (The personalities were not his work, he had merely given them the ability of being individuals);

Flippersidianfubba – Yellowy orange PEEP; too happy for its own good. Nickname: Flip

Banniyargiebumdadad – Dark blue PEEP; with an evil look in its eye. Nickname: Bani

Amiamgamrosenpop – Bright red PEEP; very hard to keep from dancing. Nickname: Amp

Tapiaparschingelak – Lime green PEEP; loves mischief and giggles a lot. Nickname: Tap

Illialliaydenfraws – White PEEP; always depressed about something. Nickname: Illie

Drovvobalbagondh – Black PEEP; has a horrible temper, never smiles. Nickname: Dro

Kenditybrissapapap – Purple PEEP; terribly paranoid and worried. Nickname: Kep

Sif – Baby Pink PEEP, very quiet and shy and small. Nickname: Sissifillihintharoid

Arriving to Quadenhaden’s house, however, Syelims heard a piercing sound cut through the air. It was a very odd experience, as he had never heard a small little child scream before. See, the only small girls he’d met had been indifferent, unemotional and rather quiet Tibhadens. Inside, he found a stressed-looking Quadenhaden, holding a young baby-girl at an arms length away. The entire situation about poor little Tibsen was introduced to Syelims, and the PEEPs were introduced to Quadenhaden and Tibsen, who immediately stopped crying.

“Oh thank you, Sarual! They’re delightful!” Quadenhaden exclaimed in Koksmutib.

“It was nothing”, Syelims mumbled with an awkward smile. “It seems the little… human likes them too.” He continued with a glance at Tibsen, giggling and playing with Flip, Tap and Sissifillihintharoid.

If you have ever met the PEEPs, I’m sure you know why I say that it is without doubt unfortunate that they were programmed with the ability to think independently and have different personalities. They are exceptionally clever at planning pranks and even the ones with kindhearted personalities and emotions, can’t really help themselves from pulling a prank or two once in a while. In many aspects, they’re like small children, who never grow up. A PEEP has approximately 67 million languages programmed into its system, but they generally just speak their ancestors’ (the Doris) own language, Dorieu, to piss their owners off a bit and force them to learn Dorieu. The little robots are quite adventurous and consequently, they often hide in Quadenhaden’s spaceship to see where it will take them. In fact, this was such a known habit of theirs that Tibsen and Quadenhaden really shouldn’t have been surprised at all when the PEEPS appeared after takeoff.

A day or so after Tibsen and Quadenhaden had found the PEEPs on their ship and welcomed them in a little funny ritual of patting their heads twice and saying “Akerue Bof bof”, Tibsen had caught them playing one of their very strange games. Six of them had formed a circle, all holding a corner of a big piece of cloth up into the air, with Sissifillihintharoid lying helplessly in the center of the cloth. Dro had screamed “POFF! I explode!” (Dro said this in Dorieu, but fortunately Tibsen now spoke this very simple language perfectly well) and ripped apart the piece of the cloth it was holding. Then the next PEEP would do the same, ripping away his part of the cloth. Then they continued around the circle until little Sissifillihintharoid in the middle fell down on the floor, crying loudly. Tibsen had naturally quickly run to the little PEEP’s aid, and yelled angrily at the other PEEPs for doing something so idiotic.

“Why do you say that you explode?” she shouted angrily and quite confused.

“We’re playing bombs”, answered Flip in Dorieu. “You see, if we really were bombs, and the cloth was a planet or a country, we could make it slowly explode from each corner until anyone in the middle would explode with the rest of the country! It is a very funny game!” it continued happily.

Tibsen got absolutely livid at his words, and yelled for quite a while before she let it go. However, PEEPs lack the ability to learn from their mistakes, and it appeared that they had been dying to be left alone on the ship to get an opportunity to find out if their little game could work in real life.

Apparently, it could.

The memory of this game, though, made Tibsen instantly understand what had happened – or more appropriately, what was happening.

“Quickly! Run towards our ship! The entire island is going to explode!” Tibsen exclaimed.

“Say again? Why?! Did Bernice do this?” Thatcher asked perplexedly, grabbing a leather suitcase standing by the door.

“No! I’ll explain later! Right now, we just have to go.”

The thunderous rumble of another part of the island exploding into thick heavy smoke sounded forth, and now they clearly heard how much closer it was. There was no hesitation now – all of them started running; Tibsen and Quadenhaden in the front leading the way, Florence and Violet in the middle, and Thatcher in the back, making sure the girls were not sacking behind.

“But, wait! We can’t just leave the house and everything here!” Violet cried out, stealing a glimpse of their house behind them, while the explosions sounded more frequently.

“Oh, yes we can”, mumbled Thatcher after the deafening grumble and threw an anxious look over his shoulder.

“Come, Floret and Violence, we hasten us must!” said Quadenhaden seriously.

They could now see the spaceship among the trees, and Quadenhaden ran ahead, reached out his hand and stuck his finger into a small glowing circle. Some sort of door clicked loose and unfolded itself in front of them until it formed a pair of stairs. Tibsen jumped up on the first step and took a hold of Violet’s hand, pulling her up into the ship. Thatcher sighed and reluctantly stepped in behind Florence and Quadenhaden. They had entered a small room, filled with different screens and dashboards. Tibsen ran forward, pulled two control sticks and hit a button. She sighed, relieved.

“What on earth are we going to do now?” Thatcher said, panicky.

“Father,” Violet said and Thatcher realized she had a big grin on her lips, “I don’t think we’re going to do anything on earth.”

And of course, Violet was correct. The largest screen in the room showed the image of a massive cloud of thick black smoke that slowly grew smaller and smaller beneath them.

“Oh, dear me”, Thatcher mumbled.

“Odemie”, Tap imitated with a happy giggle from a dark corner of the room.

Written by Chiburger

Click here for the Fifth Chapter

“I find difficult to believe already this not realise of this,” Quadenhaden said calmly.

“I beg your pardon?” Thatcher said, frowning.

“You demand of me a pardon in a type nonspecified?” said Quadenhaden, glancing at Tibsen.

Thatcher stared at him as though there was an alien before him. “What?”

“You are disturbed to rather?” Quadenhaden asked in perplexity.

“Hip wofer laptapasta icy-icy harsle frusker,” Tibsen murmured quickly to her companion. He frowned for a moment, then looked at the floor and nodded.

“Linhakky raffle fusking,” he mumbled.

“You must please forgive Quadenhaden,” Tibsen said confidently to the Thatchers, who looked decidedly alarmed. “There is something unnatural in his use of the English language. I feel certain that mine use is better, for I have studied it for more thoroughly long.”

“Are you French?” Violet asked.

“No, Tibsen. Tibsen is my name.”

“Don’t be rude, Violet,” Thatcher said quietly.

“What Quadenhaden was attempting to say is that he is surprised that you are not already aware of this.”

“Well, we haven’t really had much contact with the rest of the world for . . . a while now,” Thatcher said. “Well . . . no contact, for . . . several years.”

“That would explain it, then. But humans are excellent at communicating. That’s your strong point, we’ve been told. You spent all your time working out new ways to communicate with one another. How is it that you have not heard of this?”

“Miss Tibsen, I don’t have any idea what’s going on in the world. The King could be dead, and I wouldn’t know.”

“Your British monarch is dead, as far as I know.”

“See?”

“What?” Florence exclaimed. “The King’s dead?”

“Yes,” Thatcher said calmly.

“You seem unaffected by this news,” Tibsen said. “You seem unaffected by that news and also the news that your species no longer has power, or any Earth species, for that matter.”

“Oh, I am, I assure you.”

“Forgive me, it is just that I read that humans were very emotional creatures. You don’t seem to be that.”

“To be what?”

“Emotional.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, Miss Tibsen, the thought of the human race in peril doesn’t inspire a terrific amount of emotion in me, no. Animals, yes: they’re innocent. But humans probably got themselves into this problem in the first place.”

“I cannot confirm or deny that, Mr Thatcher,” Tibsen said rather solemnly. “I doubt the humans did get themselves into this problem, as you say, in the first place, because they had no contact with Oharg at all, excepting a few minor broadcasts to them.”

“Yes, well. . . . But what’s different about us, then? How come nothing’s happened here?”

“I can’t answer that, I’m afraid,” she said with a small laugh of disbelief. “We were travelling over this ocean to the mainland, and Quadenhaden spotted your buildings here. We were curious, so we landed, and found you. I can’t explain how you have managed to escape Bernice’s wretched manipulation technique, primitive though it is.”

“I’m sorry, Bernice?” Thatcher asked.

“Yes. He’s the President of Koksmutlop, and the leader of the Nyat-f Party. He’s responsible for the imprisonment of over two hundred planets and their inhabitants.”

“But why on Earth are you here on . . . er, Earth?”

“My friend,” she said, gesturing to a sulking Quadenhaden. “He likes the planet somewhat.”

“Somewhat?” Quadenhaden chimed in. “Hah! Hip lomey hasta wekwester!”

“Futnob. Yes, well. . . . That’s why we’re here, and not back on our own planet. Personally, I am rather fond of humans, too. And I’m incredibly thankful that you all still have intelligent thought, otherwise there’d be no hope.”

“But what’s stopping humans having intelligent thought?” Violet said. “Exactly, I mean.”

“Did you ever read about a meteorite which fell to this planet in . . . ap pof wop, Quadenhaden?”

“Hiss-nerf mau issnee.”

“1733, apparently,” Tibsen said.

“I’m not sure,” Violet replied, looking at Florence.

“I do,” Florence announced. “It caused the tsunami which hit Spain, didn’t it?”

“That’s right,” said Tibsen. “Well, that was from Oharg. It was manufactured by Beaulieu Industries in the Icks-Hilf Valley in western Koksmutlop, and was made primarily from a substance designed by Bernice according to the results from a biological examination of a human being abducted several years before then. It’s been integrating itself into your atmosphere for over three hundred years, and into your water, which is the whole problem. As soon as you drink the infected water, the process begins. Gradually the brain is broken down until it’s entirely helpless, and the Nyat-f can do what they like with it.”

“But what’s the point of all this?” Florence said in a somewhat broken voice.

“War. They need an army to fight their war with another planet, a stronger planet. They got ahead of themselves, invading without a proper army. That’s all this is: the gathering of soldiers.”

“So . . . that water’s poisoned?” Thatcher asked, pointing out of the window at the ocean.

“Yes. What water do you drink? It must be some kind of wonder liquid,” Tibsen said, laughing.

“It’s. . . .” Thatcher hesitated, then sighed. “I treat the water we drink with a. . . . I’m a scientist, Miss Tibsen. A rather famous one, actually. Well, I used to be. . . . I discovered a cure for cancer, back in 2009. Obviously I was rapidly propelled into enormous wealth and prominence; I was awarded the Nobel Prize, given a knighthood, all of that, you know. . . . As expected.

“But the cure I discovered was incomplete. My wife was already profoundly ill with the disease, and I could not stop it. It was . . . ironic, if anything. I left England a few years later, unable to bear the attention.

“By that time, the world was in a miserable state. The atmosphere was decomposing around us, the water was packed with poison, the minds were . . . dying, actually. Losing all sense of reality, and truth. We were better off far away from all of that.

“My grandfather was a scientist, too, of sorts. He, like myself, detested the state of the planet’s water supply, and had managed to develop a frankly extraordinary method of filtering it. I didn’t know this until I moved here. I chose this island in particular on his recommendation, because it was here that he found . . . something which is at the heart of this method. Our water is untainted, Miss Tibsen, as is our food.”

Tibsen was silent for a moment. “You owe your life to your grandfather, Mr Thatcher. Or perhaps just your sanity.”

Written by Adam J. M. Eagleton

Click here for the Fourth Chapter

Neither did the meteorite survive. When it hit the water it was broken into dust, apart from two particularly sizeable chunks, which proceeded to sink to the bottom of the sea, along with twelve unknown species of butterfly, four unknown species of plant, and the buried treasure of Willow-Legs Jones the Incontinent, much to his regret.

Over the next few years, the small pieces of rock decomposed in the water, filling it with the peculiar elements of which it was composed. As the water evaporated from the ocean, the chemicals were introduced to the atmosphere, and it was gradually altered by them. Through rain, the chemicals were spread across the planet, but the exceptional and alien nature of the elements hindered any form of suspicion, and the effects went relatively unnoticed. For a few years everyone attributed the atmosphere changes to other gases, which was a fairly sensible and intelligent supposition, I suppose, given the circumstances; but after that, humanity no longer possessed that sort of intelligence.

*

The story of the evolution of the Fordarvians and the Tibhadens is a remarkably interesting one. Life began on the planet 7.41 billion years after the birth of the planet, Oharg, in the form of bacteria called enchiladas (which is one of the greatest coincidences in language that has ever occurred). For eight hundred million years, these bacteria evolved into small scaly creatures with flexible wheels for transportation, but these were phenomenally unsuccessful, and almost died out completely. But then the evolutionary line split into two: along the first line, the creatures developed front legs to support themselves, but larger wheels, causing severe back problems, resulting in extinction. But along the second line, arms were developed, the wheels became legs, and the creatures eventually evolved into small creatures with hair, complex thought, and two digestive systems. These in turn evolved into a taller, more sophisticated animal: Hellemsharm.

Hellemsharm were very competent beings. They spread across the planet to become the dominant species, developing over a thousand complex languages and cultures. The average Hellemsharm was unimaginably clever and curious. There was no area of life which had not been scrutinized and analysed by Oharg’s ten billionth year. So advanced were the Hellemsharm, that over nine hundred neighbouring planets had already been visited and catalogued by that time, making Oharg one of the most experienced and sophisticated planets in existence.

The two primary races of Hellemsharm were the aforementioned Tibhadens and Fordarvians, both of which lived together surprisingly well for many millennia. But the Fordarvians developed over time into decidedly more aggressive creatures, and began passing laws on Oharg which substantially reduced the freedom of the Hellemsharm. They began to extend these laws to other planets too, exploiting their superior technology and intelligence to conquer the weak inhabitants of them. Oharg’s immediate neighbour planet, Nyarl Nyarl Incy-Fustular, had developed a primitive form of life over the 4.8 billion years of its existence, but within two years of the Fordarvians’ first invasion the planet was purged of it entirely. At this, Bancy Ramplamp, the king of Ing-Ing — one of the dominant countries on the planet — held a conference with the five world leaders on the subject of the danger of the Fordarvians’ increasing hostility towards other planets. Two of the leaders agreed that Bernice Oscubarlo, the president of Koksmutlop, needed to be stopped before he went too far. The other two disagreed, and offered their full support of Bernice’s ambitions.

The only option for the two Tibhaden rulers was to leave the planet. They announced to their kingdoms that the opportunity to move to the empty planet next door would soon arrive, and urged them to take it. Four months later the two leaders left Oharg with two billion Tibhadens, leaving the remaining four billion under Fordarvian rule.

Two hundred years later, Bernice attempted to invade Shnarfish-Nemmem, a large planet in the Hoodnuff system, but it backfired. They soon found themselves at war with the inhabitants, of which there was a great deal. It also turned out that Shnarfish-Nemmem had excellent connections, and the Fordarvians were very soon outnumbered by several billion. This evidently needed to be rectified if they wished to continue living, which many of them did (except for the Wanklank party of Harsh-Hush, who were an odd bunch). Bernice proceeded to conquer as many other planets as possible (small ones, preferably, with weak residents), in order to build up his army a bit.

He managed this with the aid of a very basic chemical manipulation of the brain via one of the most essential life elements: water. One planet for example, one they called Onkilar, had a good supply of this, and several hundred strong creatures entirely dependant on it. Within three hundred years, the beings had developed into an unintelligent and easily-manipulated life form, and the Fordarvians added them to their army.

(You may be wondering at this point exactly what science the Fordarvians used to manipulate the neurological set-up of these creatures, and such a thought would indeed be justified. Be assured that, whilst I do not know the answer, someone somewhere does, and I’m sure they’re very pleased with themselves. You may also be wondering how it is that an entire race of creatures consisting of many billions decided unanimously upon this extreme course of action. “Surely one of them, at least, disagreed with it,” I hear you wonder. Again, such a thought would indeed be justified. There were, in fact, several groups of people who attempted to stop the planned invasions, but they were unsuccessful in their endeavour. One individual began to make a difference at one point, as he was a popular politician, and managed to build up an impressive campaign against the attacks. He was unfortunately involved in a sex scandal two years in, however, and retired abroad in humiliation, leaving him the butt of several famous comedians’ jokes for many years, including Hiparm Hiznee-Itfeh, a regular on the topical panel show ‘Hip Limey Pastaranka!’ He was dismissed from the broadcasting company, however, after making an offensive reference to Borsny Crikerbom, the last survivor of the Mwarskiub civil war. Hiparm can now be found presenting the late-night radio show ‘Fop Hinty Titular’ and various humiliating advertisements for cereal. His autobiography, ‘Hip Waffer Nyartle mau Nyip-Nyip’, will be released next year.)

Another planet, one they called Bistum-Skock, also had several lovely oceans, and a surprisingly powerful race of creatures who responded and adapted to the slightest changes in the water. Bernice sent a member of parliament to the planet, as he usually did, to assess the population, but they discovered that they had developed a culture so complex that it would require more than the standard chemical manipulation.

*

Thatcher’s grandfather had been an exceptional man, but unfortunately he had been unaware of the fact. He lived in Wapping, had two dogs, two children, two wives and two gods, all of whom were unfaithful to him. In 1967 he published a novel called ‘The Surgeon’s Probing Instrument of Desire’, an appalling story about a woman who goes into theatre to have her tonsils removed, but comes out with everything she ever wanted, apparently. It didn’t sell well, and Thatcher moved to Hawaii, with which he very soon grew tired. He made friends with a young botanist called William Newbury, and soon discovered that a particular species of plant unique to Pitcairn Island in the southern Pacific Ocean had certain chemical properties, which, according to Newbury, could purge any liquid of all chemicals and minerals. It was the ultimate sterilizer: a small amount of the fluid from the plant added to a supply of the most poisonous and putrid water would make it entirely safe. (He also said that because he wasn’t a scientist he had no idea how it worked. That means I don’t know either, so don’t ask me.)

Thatcher also discovered that Newbury was the only person who knew about this. Soon after this, Newbury was involved in an unfortunate accident involving a tram and three wheelbarrows, and his ashes were scattered at sea.

Thatcher lived a long and happy life, dying of food poisoning at the age of eighty-four.

Written by Adam J. M. Eagleton

Click here for the Third Chapter

Harrison smiled without due consideration and leaned towards the palm tree behind him.

“I might, I might not. I will see if I get time for it,” he said. “I quite like it like this.”

“Well, for someone who’s supposed to help with keeping a place clean and tidy, you have relatively untidy hair,” Violet said in a joking but mild manner.

“You look nothing like a butler,” Florence said with a smirk, petting the little monkey on her shoulder.

“Oh, but I’m everything but a butler. I am the local entertainer, cook, mental support, chimney sweep, official ribbon-tier, nanny…“, and he gave the girls a beaming smile. “…pet caretaker, substitute hair brusher and banana peeler in cases of fractured arms, lost-monkey finder, gold fish feeder, brave rescuer of drowning young girls in oceans and fish ponds …“

The girls rolled their eyes. They had heard this list several times before, even though it had grown over the years. Florence deliberately interrupted the owner of all of these grand titles.

“All right, all right, we know, you are magnificent, courageous, splendid, marvellous…“

“…superb, fantastic, apparently ostentatious…” continued Violet.

“…excessively flamboyant, slightly narcissistic… all in all you are undeniably one of a kind. We shall miss you,” Thatcher ended with a slight pull in the corner of his mouth, giving Harrison a sturdy pat on the shoulder.

“Oh, don’t act like I’m not,” Harrison chortled and gave each of the girls a giant hug. He took a step back. “I will miss you too, but I’ll only be gone for two weeks. No need for long faces.”

At his words, the girls put on exaggeratedly sad faces.
Harrison laughed loudly before he went on the ship, which started moving away from the island.

“Goodbye!” he shouted as he waved. “Take care of the monkeys!”

“Oh, we will!” shouted the girls, waving wildly.

“And their pets, Thatcher!” continued Harrison with a thundering laugh.

The big boat moved further and further from the shore, and soon he was out of sight.

*

The next few days passed on more or less as days usually did, and the girls spent their days taking it easy. They could feel the absence of the butler. It was indeed quieter. Harrison would always walk around singing while dusting the house in the lack of anything else to do.

The girls were outside the house, in the sun. Violet, who was sitting carelessly on a bench by the fish pond and reading, started humming a song that Harrison would always sing loudly. Generally, he would be singing it in the living room, and the girls would just as usual be sitting outside by the pond, and still hear him.

“How long ago was it he left last time?” Florence asked, standing in the pond with water to her ankles.

“I believe it was almost two years ago,” Violet answered absent-mindedly, her nose in the book.

“We should’ve gone with him this time.”

Violet looked up at her sister, suddenly alert.

“Gone with him?”

“What, don’t you want to see the world?” Florence disputed.

She bent down and picked up one of the gold fishes, and looked at it intently. Violet sighed and looked at her sister. The book lay forgotten in her lap.

“Well, yes, I suppose…” Violet began.

Florence turned the fish facing Violet, suddenly smiling.

“We’d be just like Amadeus here. ‘I’m such a miserable fish’”.

Florence tried to twist her voice into one of a depressed fish. She succeeded fairly well, considering she was coincidently trying to suppress a laughing fit.

“’All I’m ever going to experience is this contemptible pond’,” she continued. “’I won’t ever get to explore the great oceans…”

“Um, Florence? I’d suggest you put him back into the water. He… doesn’t look too well.”

Florence gave her sister an amused look and with a nod she let the fish back into the pond water.

“We’ll get our chance to see things,” Violet added with an assuring expression in her eyes.

“Of course we are,” Florence said. “We’ll make sure of it. And we’re taking Amadeus with us.”

Violet snickered, and picked up her book again.

Thatcher stood by his bedroom window and observed as his daughters talked and laughed outside. He walked towards the kitchen with a sigh; he could just imagine what they would talk about when their butler had just left to acquire supplies for the next few years on the island. He knew the day would come when the girls would want to leave it. Of course, the rest of the world was a rather miserable place now, he felt, and he had told them so. Still, he always knew they would be wondering.

He still remembered that afternoon when the four of them first arrived at the island. It was quite a positive memory; he could still recall the feeling of liberation as he stepped onto the shore. It was almost 12 years ago now. Harrison had thrown his shoes off, and run across the sand with his arms stretched out, shouting in joy. Just for the sake of it, Thatcher took off his shoes as well. He remembered the feeling of the sand between his toes… or rather, the finest particles of the sand making their way into his socks. It was invigorating.

And there it was – his grandfather’s house. It was just as in the old picture he had found together with all the fascinating notes his grandfather had left behind. Especially interesting were some research papers about a certain plant he was apparently going to find on the island. He smiled at the memory.

The two girls – they were so small then – were lying in a small carrier that he held tightly as he walked up the stairs for the first time.

He did not want to think about the months that had just passed. Not even after all these years did he want to think about it. No, this was where he had come to make things easier. To no longer have to be disturbed.

*

The kitchen in the Thatcher residence was quite large, with spacious surfaces in dark wood. There was a certain tension and anxiety in the air. The girls were chopping vegetables and Thatcher was marinating pieces of chicken filet to use in a pie.

“I suppose you’re getting quite tired of my cooking,” he said, trying to keep up a conversation while he salted and peppered the chicken lightly.

“Nonsense, father,” Florence said in a low voice. “You are just as good a cook as… Harrison.”

“In fact, it was his cooking we were getting tired of,” continued Violet, trying to laugh a little.

Thatcher smiled a little, but it felt strained.

“Are you done with the salad, Florence?” he then asked.

Florence handed him the big blue-coloured glass bowl. He swallowed and walked slowly towards the table, putting the bowl down with a bang. There was a moment of silence.

“I’m sure he’s fine, father…” Violet mumbled. “He probably just… accidentally dropped the phone in the sea or something.”

“Then why…” Thatcher began, but stopped abruptly. “Did you hear that?”

The three of them looked intensely at each other, and in the next moment, they were all running towards the entrance. The three of them stood behind the front door, trying to look out from the little glass window.

They saw nothing.

“I’m sure I heard something…” Thatcher said in a frustrated mumble.

Violet said nothing, but opened the door and stepped out. Thatcher and Florence stumbled forward as well.

“Hello? Harrison!” Violet shouted, starting to walk around the house. It would be very much like Harrison to play hide-and-seek this way. So typically. “Come on, Harry! Harrison! It’s not funny!”

Violet and her father continued behind Florence, but suddenly realized she had stopped. They stopped as well, when they saw what she was so taken aback by.

In front of them was some sort of big vehicle. It was quite remarkable, it looked almost unearthly.

“It seems Harrison has made quite an upgrade,” said Florence in a staggered voice.

Thatcher stood stunned.

“Wh –,“ he started, but then stopped, at hearing voices speaking a foreign tongue.

It sounded like a man and a woman discussing something worriedly. Thatcher took a few steps forward and cleared his throat loudly, and the voices behind the big craft immediately stopped.

The voices whispered back and forth for a few moments, seeming to sound even more anxious. Thatcher looked timidly at his daughters, swallowed, and shifted his weight to his right leg. Florence and Violet stood a few feet behind him, looking uncertainly at each other.

“Excuse me, but… could you please show yourselves?” Thatcher said, trying to speak loudly and clearly. “Do you speak English? Can you hear me? Hello?”

A second of silence followed, and then two strangely dressed characters appeared from behind the big vehicle. It appeared to be a man and a woman. The man was tall and quite broad. He had his hair standing up in an odd shape; it was a strong royal blue colour. The woman was a bit more than a head shorter than the man. She had big brown eyes, freckles, and dark brown hair with pink highlights that was held up in a similar fashion to the man’s hair.

She took a step forward.

“Good morning, earthlings!” she said with a steady voice.

The three Thatchers stood shocked.

“You – you are… not from earth?” stuttered Violet.

“You mean, as in… aliens?” Florence continued.

The woman smiled at their words and said something inaudible to the blue-haired man. They both laughed softly, and then the woman looked back at the others with a curious expression on her face.

“Yes. It is… yes,” she said. “I am glad to hear that you speak the English language.”

There was an uncertainty in her words, as if it was difficult for her to choose them. Still, she looked very triumphant when she had spoken, as if she had just accomplished something amazing by uttering a few words. Thatcher and the girls stood at their spots, still looking at the strange pair.

The woman suddenly seemed to remember something, pulled her glove off, and reached out to shake Thatcher’s hand.

“My name is Tibsen Akinad,” she said and smiled a wide warm smile.

Thatcher was quite befuddled at this, but he shook her hand as well.

“Aaron Thatcher,” he said with a confused Am-I-really-awake?-expression on his face.

The blue-haired man suddenly stepped forward as well, and took Thatcher’s hand right out of Tibsen’s. He shook it enthusiastically with tears filling up in his eyes.

“My name is Quadenhaden,” he said happily while wildly shaking the hand. “It is a great honour, Mr. Aaron Thatcher!”

“It is a pleasure to meet you…” mumbled Thatcher, squeezing his hands after Quadenhaden’s hard grip. “Good grief…”

Tibsen saw the unease in his face, and immediately looked worried as well.

“Sorry, Mr Aaron, did we do anything wrong?” she asked anxiously. “We’ve read in so many books and encyclopaedias that this is how humans greet each other. Perhaps there’s been some sort of misunderstanding?”

“No, no,” Florence suddenly said, sounding reassuring. “You are quite right.”

“Good!” Tibsen said after a few seconds. “Then I shall shake yours too!”

Tibsen shook both Florence’s and Violet’s hands, and so did Quadenhaden, tremendously enthused.

The girls smiled widely at the visitors’ excitement.

“Father, shouldn’t we invite our guests over for tea?” Violet said eagerly, and both she and her sister gave their father a pleading look.

Thatcher thought about it, looking at Tibsen and Quadenhaden. This was all very unexpected.

“Well… yes, I suppose we should,” he said, scratching his head. “You are both very welcome.”

“Splendid!” the girls burst out and grabbed their guests’ hands and pulled them towards the house rapidly.

Thatcher walked after them, trying to keep up with the girls’ quick pace.

They were all in the sitting room, holding their teacups and taking a few sips now and then.

“This tastes very strangely,” said Tibsen, frowning lightly as she drank her tea.

“Well, our tea consists of something more than tea generally does…” started Thatcher.

“We would not aware of some difference,” Quadenhaden interrupted with a hearty laugh.

“So, exactly where are you from?” asked Violet, trying to keep a light conversation going. Both she and her sister were very excited about the visitors.

“Well, we’re from Nyarl-Nyarl Incy-fustular, a planet quite close to Oharg,” said Quadenhaden.

A few moments of silence followed. Tibsen and Quadenhaden started to exchange a few puzzled looks.

“So, what brings you here?” said Thatcher.

“It is… very strange,” Quadenhaden said, ignoring Thatcher’s question.

He had his eyes fixed on Tibsens.

“It is very strange,” Tibsen agreed after a few seconds. “You really don’t seem all that stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I begin to think there is being a mistake of some kind,” said Quadenhaden.

“No, no; merely some… exceptional exception,” said Tibsen, thinking deeply.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Violet, sounding slightly offended. “Did you expect something else? Did you mean we were supposed to be brainless dim-wits?”

A few seconds of silence followed.

“You mean to say that you do not know?” Tibsen said with an astounded and yet somewhat amused voice.

“Do not know what?” demanded Thatcher, trying to hide his irritation.

Tibsen burst out in a laugh.

“They don’t know,” she tittered, and Quadenhaden smiled as well.

“What exactly don’t we know?” Florence asked as well.

Tibsen stopped laughing, and put on a serious face.

“Well. How should I say this…?”

She had everyone’s full attention and so she took a deep breath.

“Well, it seems that your entire planet has been invaded by Fordarvians who attempt to brainwash the human race and use them as soldiers. All humans are currently under Fordarvian manipulation. Except you, it appears. It is still quite likely that the human race won’t survive.”

A smash sounded as Violet dropped her cup of tea on the stone floor.

Written by Director Danny

Click here for the Second Chapter

The Memoirs of a Tibhaden

Written by Geldunhaden of Blinkquod

Published by Ruoqthaden Inc.

Quadenhaden, the fool. He had always had that irrational interest for everything that had to do with that wretched… human race. And what was so interesting about it I have to this day never grasped. As far as I have understood, they are actually rather proud of their insignificant achievement of visiting their own moon. Pathetic, I tell you.

My younger brother was diagnosed with FED (Flomersox Emotional Disorder) at the age of 14, the third person in the entire recorded history of Tibhadens to ever have it, and the first one in over 6000 years. As you surely know, we Tibhadens don’t really do the whole emotional thing. It’s not really that we don’t feel – it’s just that we never feel strongly, and it’s only very, very (very) seldom that we act on our feelings, unlike someone with FED, then.

Anyway, this disorder of his was probably a big part of the great mystery of his incongruous interest in humans, the without much competition silliest and most emotional race in the whole galaxy.

I suppose he was never quite at home with the rest of us Tibhadens, as he went getting fond of things (like the little swodickan amphricks in our garden) and getting depressed and becoming agitated. His tears were actually used for other purposes than keeping his eyes moist! He sometimes actually cried because he was upset (quite often, actually). And I was the most embarrassed and abashed person in the world when we were meeting acquaintances of mine, and he… smiled at them.

Additionally, the very blue colour of his hair wasn’t exactly helping him to fit in with our peers. It’s the least wanted hair colour among us Tibhadens, whose hair shifts in all colours between pink and blue. I was lucky to have almost completely pink hair (I only have a few purple-ish highlights), which already at an early age made it easy for me get along with people. And I never really knew how to treat my brother among others. They were certainly unsure of how to treat him.

Apparently, there was some sort of wormhole that sometimes shot random things from earth into my brother’s room. He has a whole collection of human things, I really find it rather sad. He has a certain device he calls a Spilihp, which he says is some sort of device to record and play sound. He has several thin plastic boxes which have sound files stored on them, or rather imprinted on long magnetic strips. Extremely primitive. His collection also contains several pieces of clothing, literature, and more random things. He claims that he has learned how to read the human language too, although he obviously doesn’t understand anything of it. Anyway, he is terribly fond of all these things, my peculiar brother.

“What is this supposed to mean?” I asked him.

And he looked at me with sad eyes – so typical for Quadenhaden – and started weeping.

“Oh, it’s a horrible thing that’s happened!”

I sighed. “What exactly is it that you have done now, brother?”

He wiped away a few tears and shot an adoring look at the little human creature.

“Oh, well, I… It’s a rather interesting story. Wouldn’t mind telling you about it…”

Oh, no.

“Actually, I –“ I started.

“Well, then, where should I start… Sit down, please,” Quadenhaden said, still looking slightly unhappy but now with a kind of excited edge to his voice.

And I supposed I had no choice. I knew him well, and when he had a story to tell, he would definitely tell it. I had also learned that taking a seat indeed was a good idea.

“Well, you know how I have always been interested in the humans,” he began, and I nodded. “So I decided that I wanted to go visit earth, to have a closer look at them.

It took a long time, but eventually I was there, and I landed the DaisiBeravastus 1021 in a dark place, next to some kind of road. It was much colder than it is on our planet – I felt my nose go numb! I turned the ship on Invisible Mode and started looking around, realizing that I was standing under an actual – will you believe it? – tree! And oh, brother – it was everything I had ever dreamed of. It had such an astonishing texture. Judging by the leaves (indeed, they were a much more astounding shade of green than I would ever have been able to imagine) it was a maple tree!”

He grabbed my shoulder out of sheer excitement, and I immediately shrugged away.

“Oh, sorry… But a maple tree, brother! I could never find words to express my joy! I was further delighted to realize there were several trees around me.

Nevertheless, the aim of my journey was not looking at trees, but finding humans. I wanted to meet the creatures behind the remarkable objects that appeared in my room.

Suddenly, I heard a low rumbling sound, and soon a light appeared on the road that seemed to stretch as far as my eyes could reach. It was some sort of vehicle… a very loud one; it seems the humans haven’t excelled so much technically, which I understand. I’m supposing all those emotions must be a lot to handle.”

He sighed admiringly. The little human was sleeping, sitting next to my brother and resting her head to his arm. I could not comprehend how Quadenhaden could sit there, at ease and comfortable. It seemed so unnatural.

He continued telling about his journey.

“So, the vehicle moved closer. It was moving rather slowly, although it seemed to be using its full capacity. There were screeching sounds coming from the wheels – yes, they still use wheels, but please don’t judge them on their limited technical advancements – and then it drove right off the road and crashed into two large trees.

Now, I was not sure whether to be alarmed or not. I was quite sure I saw someone inside the vehicle, but I wasn’t exactly sure whether that person would have been severely hurt from this sort of incident. Perhaps – perhaps this was a common practice among human beings, this crashing into things. Perhaps they were so overwhelmed by their feelings that they repeatedly tried to kill themselves?

I stood for a while, staring intently at the ruined vehicle, feeling less and less at ease. I went closer, realizing that I had to check what had actually happened, and – oh, Geldunhaden, it was absolutely horrific!”

He stared at me with big eyes. He stroked a few strands of his blue hair back, and took a deep breath.

“Well, it wasn’t a pretty sight. There had been two of them sitting in the front, and… they weren’t doing so well.”

Quadenhaden swallowed.

“You mean to say they were… squashed?” I said.

“Yes, that is what I mean to say,” he answered, looking faintly nauseous as he reviewed the picture internally. “I tried not to look. You know I don’t do well with these kinds of things. However, I soon heard a squealing sound coming from the back seat. It was –“, and he beamed at the sleeping human child, “little Tibsen in the back seat, completely helpless.”

“What did you say?”

“She was in the back seat –“

“No, what did you call her?” I asked.

“Tibsen,” Quadenhaden said. “That is her name, I found lots of informational papers about her in the cabinet in the very back of the vehicle. See, this paper has a picture of her, surely it must be papers about her. ‘ETACIFITREC HTRIB’.”

“Paper. Hmph.” I rolled my eyes. How primitive.

“Well… they’ll progress eventually,” my brother said in his throat, but went on pointing at the paper. “See here, this should mean that her name is Tibsen Akinad. Isn’t that fascinating? Tib-sen! She would fit in perfectly with us!”

“So… this means you are going to keep her?”

“Keep her?” Quadenhaden glared at me with an exasperated expression. “Of course I’ll keep her! I’ll take care of her and raise her. Her parents died in the crash, so she is my responsibility now.”

I was quite beside myself. I actually sensed a very slight twinge of emotion somewhere deep, deep down (although I’m quite sure it could have been something I ate earlier).

“Are you serious?” I asked.

Quadenhaden didn’t answer me. He just looked at me smugly, and stood up and took the little baby human in his arms. He put his hand on his hip while he held the little clump in his free arm.

“Don’t I look exactly like that human on the picture that was shot into your face when you were looking for your royewod in my closet?”
I responded to his beaming face with my usual expression, leaving the room to get some rest.

“I’ll be in my room. Don’t let it destroy anything.”

I stood still in the next room, thinking things over. I wondered what odd situations my brother would get into with this little creature. I heard him talking to it with a gentle voice. He really was fond of it. How odd.

“We’re going to travel the galaxy, you and I. We will explore and discover. We will laugh and cry – I’ve never gotten to do that with anyone before.” He sounded euphoric.