Chapter Three -- Adam J. M. Eagleton (again)

(By the way, I have tried all I can to add indents to this chapter, but the bloody thing won't let me. So you'll have to forgive me for that.)


*


They had moved into the living room, and Quadenhaden was cautiously sipping a glass of brandy. Thatcher had swallowed his in one gulp.
“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.”

Chapter Two -- Adam J. M. Eagleton

In 1733 a large meteorite fell upon a very small island on the western side of the Atlantic ocean, Encarlo. I do not exaggerate when I say that it was unthinkably small: one could walk from one side of it to the other, at the widest point, in four paces. Thus when the colossal rock struck it with frankly absurd force, it did not survive. People have said that the chances of the meteorite hitting the island were too small to consider, but that is really quite irrelevant.

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.

So Bernice travelled there himself to monitor the progress of the evolution, but found no problem whatsoever. The creatures were adapting to the changes in a way he had never seen before. For a few years they seemed to be responding negatively: they made several remarkable progresses in technology and science, but then they fell. As one, the entire race descended into a profound depression of intelligence, and were ready to be manipulated any way Bernice pleased. But he was somewhat amused by the odd beings, and decided to remain there for a short while to observe their behaviour. He soon grew bored.


*


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.

Prologue and First Chapter - Director Danny

Prologue

(written by Director Danny)

An excerpt from ch. 3 of the largely praised book

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.

How many times hadn’t I begged him to try and be a bit more normal? But no, he always told me how he could not escape from his feelings, and that we would all just have to accept him for who he was.

And despite all this, I was genuinely surprised that day when Quadenhaden visited me and told me that he had just been on earth. Visiting humans. It was preposterous! And I stood speechless, because not only was he standing there looking more miserable than I’d ever seen him (which was truly quite an accomplishment), but beside him stood an actual human being. It was young; I believe it was still a toddler. It smiled at me, that horrible little thing.

“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.

I heard the human give away a little cooing laugh. I sighed, went into my dormatory and closed the door.





The First Chapter

“Promise me you’ll get a haircut,” Thatcher said, with his hand on Harrison’s shoulder. “In fact, I’m begging you to.”

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.

“Oh, 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 are from Nyarl Nyarl Incy-fustular, a planet quite close to Oharg,” said Tibsen, smiling at Violet.

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 mumbled, ignoring Thatcher’s question.

He had his eyes fixed on Tibsen’s.

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

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, 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.

Introduction to the project

So, I hope that as many people as possible will be following our project, and I thought an introduction might be appropriate, to let you know what this is all about.

Basically, we are a group of Nerdfighters (if you don't know what that is, I think you should visit http://www.nerdfighters.com/ and look around. You might be a nerdfighter too!) who share a love for writing, and we decided to write a science fiction-novel together.

And so we have spent the last few months (I can't believe it's been that long!) coming up with ideas, brainstorming and getting to know eachother. It's been wonderful and fun. We've had lots of discussions and hilarious chats (*cough* Laura's smileys *cough*), it's been terrific. The thought that the journey has really only just begun is purely made of awesome.

Anyway. I (Director Danny) am writing the prologue and first chapter, and then we have about 24 other awesome people writing one or two chapters each.

I don't know if there's much more to say about it. I hope we will have many people reading, commenting and just... following this project. And I hope it goes well.
Enjoy!

DFTBA,
Director Danny