found drama

get oblique

dream.20051002: invaders

by Rob Friesel

Top floor of an old Victorian house rented out by A & I. A typical Vermont living arrangement in many respects. Things have been strange lately. Rumors abound re: some kind of imminent plague or attack. It’s all fairly vague but everyone we know is at least a little freaked out. We have tried not to pay much attention to what folks have been saying though. It’s never a good idea to let yourself get wrapped up in all this unsubstantiated hype over… Well, it’s all unsubstantiated anyway, so why even invest that much effort in to paying attention.

quick cut

A few days later. The town’s been emptying out. A lot of shops are empty or otherwise closed and boarded up. It’s as though a hurricane were making its way through. We’re still trying not to pay too much attention. It’s all very weird and unsubstantiated. Who wants to worry? There’s too much on our plates as it is. Besides, it’s been kind of fun having the town (mostly) to ourselves. Too bad our landlord was among those who decided to stick things out. Would have tried to take over his part of the house while we’re at it.

quick cut

Things have gotten almost panicky now. Had we been paying attention, we would have known that all the rumors circulated around these NASA reports of some inbound object. There were the fears that it was some Earth-shattering asteroid but the more reliable evidence suggested an alien invasion. How were we supposed to believe that anyway? But apparently there’s no not believing it now. Now that their spaceship is visible in the nightsky – – still a ways off apparently but visible. Utilities are starting to fizzle out. Our ISP has already flaked out but we’ve been able to piggy-back off a Wi-Fi signal still running in the area. I read through an email thread that my mom had started several days ago about the whole thing. I’d thought this was some sort of elaborate practical joke of hers. Too late now to go saying I guess not… The last new message I get is from Tim who urges A & I to get ourselves down to Antarctica post haste and for me to bring my mixer. (Apparently, it’s low-power enough that it won’t drain the generator too much.) Right around then we lose the signal and we’re cut off. Cell service and electric power seem to be the only things still running in town. A is trying frantically to get a bag packed. Why are we wearing our jumpsuits? I storm the closet trying to find the bag that’s big enough and sturdy enough to carry and yet not so big that it’ll be awkward to carry. Everything I seem to pull out seems to be just a big trash bag. Frustration is setting in. And panic. How the hell are we going to get to Antarctica?

About Rob Friesel

Software engineer by day. Science fiction writer by night. Weekend homebrewer, beer educator at Black Flannel, and Certified Cicerone. Author of The PhantomJS Cookbook and a short story in Please Do Not Remove. View all posts by Rob Friesel →

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