Dear Website-Visitor, 

 

This is the first little part of the book I have been working on. It is a sequel to "Archer and Zowie," but takes place much later in time. 

 

I will add other parts later. But for now, I want some input from you, the average website visitor. There will be a place at the end for you to send me a message and tell me what you think. Be warned: there are typos, grammatical errors, and narrative incongruities that haven't been fixed. 

 

The title of the story is: "The Crew of the Breya." And the story begins now. . .

 

Some public restrooms will eventually transmogrify into spaceships. 

But you don't have to worry. It's unlikely to happen while you're inside one, but it could. 

 

Nobody understands this strange phenomenon of a public restroom transmogrifying into a spaceship. Probably because it takes a very, very, very, very, long time. It goes through various stages, and no one has ever been around long enough to see the whole process. 

They are a lot like moose in that way. But I'm not sure how. 

 

"Why does this happen?"

Unclear. Maybe certain public restrooms just want to go above and beyond in their service to the public. Maybe it will gradually start to bend the time inside, so people outside don't have to wait as long. Eventually, the restroom just severs the inside and outside timelines entirely. 

They are a lot like lizards in that way—or wizards. But I'm not sure how. 

 

"How does this happen?"

Unclear. A time-bending property would give a restroom special abilities regarding spacetime travel. But to actually become a spaceship, she needs a crew. Every ship needs a crew. Then, both ship and crew could sever their terrestrial connections and move off toward intergalactic space—seeking a purpose together. Maybe. 

They are a lot like food trucks in that way. But I'm not sure how. 

 

"Where does this happen?" 

I am anthropomorphizing restrooms too much. We don't have an answer for any of this. 

What we do know: These restrooms-transmogrified-to-spaceships can be found on planets and in space in various stages of their transmogrification process. 

 

Due to their special abilities regarding spacetime travel, restrooms-transmogrified-to-spaceships are valuable. This makes them vulnerable to attack. But, if a restroom-transmogrified-to-spaceship is attacked, the crew murdered, and the vessel taken over by space pirates (or something), she will always be seeking to re-acquire a crew of her choosing, reset her systems, and resume her journey through spacetime with her new crew. 

They are a lot like sandwiches in that way. But I'm not sure how. 

 

Somewhere on Earth, there is a busy little coffee shop. It is packed to the brim with fashionable young people sipping coffee. 

In one corner, a lone table sits. Wedged into this table is a young man named Archer. 

Archer points his head and neck toward his laptop computer like a turtle diving for a bit of cabbage and reads to himself in a strange, mumbly language: "Impimimp fupmpise bup pun…" 

Then he sits back and glares at his screen bitterly. 

Archer is in the midst of a quarter-life crisis. 

 

Just then, a young woman bounces around the corner, smiling with her whole body. She has dark curly hair and wears wildly stylish clothing that floods the brain with color. She looks around the room, sees Archer's table, and instantly plunks herself down there. 

Archer looks up: "Zowie, what are you doing here?" 

Zowie leans back in her chair comfortably: "Coffee! I come here all the time." 

Archer waves at his laptop: "Oh, I'm creating a description of the sci-fi book I'm trying to write. Does this sound like a good book?" 

He peers into the screen and reads: "Infinite Sunrise Book One: It's been a thousand years since Earth was conquered by the Mothrulian Empire and consumed by giant Mandipod Beetles. Humanity survives as a remnant inside the vast Mothrulian Empire. Some humans seek to unite their DNA with Mothrulian DNA to no longer be rejected by the empire. Others want to overthrow the empire and excrete Earth back from the Mandipod Beetles' giant digestive syst..."

Zowie shakes her head: "This sounds like a stupid book." 

 

Archer grimaces: "Hey! That's not supportive! I worked on that for six weeks!" 

Zowie slides her chair around the table to squint into his screen: "Well, there are too many weird names."

Archer points: "How about I change the Mandipod Beetles to Clob Beetles?" 

"Still weird. Why do gross beetles eat Earth? And why does Earth always have bad things happen to it? Can't bad things happen to some other planet? Earth's been through enough already." 

Archer thinks for a minute as his face twists into a mask of despair: "What am I doing with my life, Zowie?!"

 

Zowie flops her arms out: "Here's my advice: be happy! One day, you'll figure out what to do with your life, and then you won't have anything left to do."

Archer slaps his laptop closed: "Your perspective is strange. Also, it's depressing. . . I think I'll go home now."

"Why?"  

"Because…I need to do stuff."  

"Archer, you always leave 'cause you're bored. But home is boring, too." 

"How do ya know? There may be something important happening there now."

Zowie's eyebrows climb: "Really?"

"You're right. It's boring at home. I thought I had a perfect idea for a book, and you came along and ruined it with your common sense. Now I'm doubting whether anything I try in life is worth the effort."

"That is just one of many services I offer!"

 

“Zowie, my life swims in chaos.” 

"Chaos?"

"It's the place where everything is possible—but nothing happens!"

"Wow, let's not be a drama king, now!" 

Zowie points at Archer's coffee mug: "You like your coffee?"

"Dunno. It's what they gave me."

Zowie's hand hovers over the mug: "Can I try it?"

"You can have it. I've had enough. If I have too much coffee, it gives me all kinds of trouble."

Zowie takes a sip from his cup. "Is this from the French press?"

"Don't know."

"I have a French press at home that does tons of stuff."

"I'm happy for you."

"Do you know what else they make in a French press?"

"I'm afraid to ask."

Zowie leans over and whispers right into his ear: "The French!"

Archer scowls: "That sounds like something I would say." 

 

Zowie sits back and scans the coffee shop: "Have you tried the Ugandan coffee here?"

"No."

"It's different and super strong. I'll show you." 

She shoots up and wades through a maze of crowded tables to the coffee bar. The man serving espresso at the bar has a look about him that is one-quarter hair and three-quarters tooth. His name is Hunter: "Hunter. Can you give me a cup of your Ugandan Brew for my friend?"  

Without a word, Hunter swoops to a coffee-making apparatus, places a tiny cup, and starts to push and pull controls. Seconds later, dark liquid oozes into the cup. When finished, he hovers the cup back to the counter. 

Zowie snatches it up and doges back to Archer, who gulps the coffee down like he wants the situation over. 

Zowie starts quizzing: "Well? What do ya think?"

"It's strong."

"Yeah. It has twice the caffeine. Very woody, too. Did you notice hints of floral?"

"I don't know, Zowie! I'm having an existential crisis here. Stop inflicting your extroverted sensing on me!"

 

Zowie places her palms on the table and protrudes her right eye at Archer like an angry parrot: "Can't you just forget about the meaning of life for the time being!?"

"For the what?"

"For the time being."

A sly smile creeps up Archer's mouth as his eyes flicker. 

He flips open his laptop and starts hammering away at the keyboard. 

"Archer, what are you doing?"

Archer keeps hammering: "Shhhh. That coffee got my brain going!"

Zowie shakes her head: "Oh great, here we go again."

 

After a bit, Archer reads what he wrote: "The Time Being Book 1: The Time Being appears in the form of a man but is a made being, a creature made to rip apart the very fabric of spacetime. The Time Being can rip apart spacetime's fabric by..."

"Zowie, I need your ideas. How does the time being rip open spacetime?"

"Don't know." 

Archer continues: "What's the first thought that occurs to you? The Time Being walks into the room and rips open spacetime by what?"

"Don't know." 

"You're no help."

Archer scans the room and sees Hunter at the bar: "Whatever happens, Hunter the coffee maker would be the first to die. He seems expendable."

"That's terrible!"

"Hey, I don't make the rules."

 

Archer stares out the window and thinks. 

A scared look materializes on his face: "Now that I've drunk all your coffee, I have to go."

Zowie was one of those women who are very liberal in discussing the bodily functions of themselves and others. She raises her eyebrows matter-of-factly: "Poop?" 

"I have to use the restroom! What happens in the restroom is a deeply personal matter. Oh no, somebody else just went in there!"

Zowie jabs a thumb: "There's another one in the back."

"Where?"

She points: "Go down that little hallway."

Archer springs to his feet and dives down the hallway. But returns after a bit: "I can't find your restroom. I think you imagined it!" 

 

Zowie shakes her head: "You didn't look! I'll show you."

"I don't want to leave my laptop here. There's valuable information on it." 

"It'll be fine."

Archer follows Zowie down a narrow, dim hallway. After a while, the hallway splits left and right. Zowie swings right, squeezing through a passage stacked high on each side with giant bags of coffee—guarding the way. 

After the coffee bags, a sliding door—cracked slightly open. 

Zowie points: "See, there it is."

"That door was NOT there a minute ago." 

"Are you saying it's some room that pops into existence just for me?" 

"… yes. It's an unpredictable world."

 

"Well, Archer, you pop your butt down and have your poo."

Archer scowels: "You're making me self-conscious."

Archer slides the door the rest of the way open and heads in. 

"Zowie, where's the light? It's dark in here."

"It's next to the door."

"I can't find it."

"I'll show you."

"You can't come in! The bathroom is a sacred spot in space and time!"

"I want to show you the light switch; it's not a big deal. . ."

Zowie steps inside—against Archer's will. 

". . . Zowie, you are violating my personal space right now. The repercussions on  reality could be monumental."

"Whatever. Okay, the light switch is right next to the door. It's somewhere over here . . . "

"Zowie! You closed the door." 

"Sorry! I bumped it. It slides really easy." 

"Now, it's even more dark in here. Where's the door handle. Here it is. "

 

Stars. Stars all around. A thousand years with only blips of light in black. 

And Archer and Zowie are falling. 

They feel their bodies accelerate hard, downward. 

Panic. 

Total loss of control. 

Now, all around is blackness as they fall through thick air. It vibrates against them like the raspy ring of a distorted guitar chord. It hammers through their bodies and rips their screaming voices away, traveling down, down . . . then, silence. 

Time stops. 

"Zowie, are you there?"

"Archer, where have you been? I was yelling in the dark for hours!" 

"Zowie, it was only two seconds!"

"What? Archer, it was so long! I didn't know where you went or if I was dead!"

Then, a white light like smoked glass blinks on all around.

Archer tilts at an angle to touch the light. 

The light breaks apart like a bubble, and he crashes onto a floor. 

 

Archer and Zowie are in a narrow, dim tunnel. It is barely tall enough to sit up in.

It stretches out forever on both sides—dissolving into darkness. 

They sit up and blink at each other. It is as if they haven't seen each other in a long time. 

“Archer, I thought I'd died. But I think we're alive." 

"Zowie."

"What?"

"I don't remember anything except you." 

"Same here. I remember you, too."

Archer asks: "Which way should we go?"

Zowie swivels her head back and forth—scanning the options. The tunnel is made of a smooth, black material—glistening in the light. The light comes from a series of tiny bulbs above. Both directions look exactly the same. 

"That way!" 

They start crawling that way down the tunnel. 

The sound of their movements echoes away into the darkness. 

The lights above make little clicking noises as they light up in front and shut off behind. 

They straddle a single bare copper wire that runs along the bottom of the tunnel. 

 

Archer begins a crawling commentary: "There's a lot of dust in here. Somebody should get in here more often to clean things up."

Zowie grunts: "Gumph!"

Archer continues: "I feel like we are Russians in sewers of World War Two Stalingrad to get behind Nazi lines to blow them up, capture battle plans, n-stuff." 

Zowie grunts: "Can't talk, crawling hard." 

Archer pauses: "Of course . . . Maybe we ARE under Stalingrad. Who knows at this point . . . Zowie!"

Zowie grunts: “What?” 

"You just jammed your head into my butt!"

"Well, Archer, I'm looking at the bottom of this tunnel, not your butt. You can't just stop crawling without telling me. 

 

Eventually, the tunnel ends in blackness. 

One single spot of orange glows somewhere out there beyond. 

They crawl out of the tunnel and stand up. 

Now, there is a dull silence as sound moves away but does not come back. 

Slowly, as their eyes adjust, they can see a faint light coming from everywhere. 

  They are standing on a glassy surface stretching out all around, punctuated by shadowy structures. 

Above, the vast expanse of space reaches from horizon to horizon. But not space with thousands of bright stars shining as pinpricks in the night, like on Earth. Dark space. A few blurry galaxies burn far away. 

A few steps ahead, a podium beckons with a large orange button. 

 

Zowie steps forward and mashes the button with her palm. 

Immediately, a slamming noise is felt in the feet. Above, several gold-yellow streaks of light, like tracer bullets, shoot up from somewhere unknown and fly off into the night, each headed for somewhere else and fading into the dark. 

"Zowie, you probably shouldn't just push random buttons that you find, you know."

Zowie shakes her head. Then, she walks a little ways away, her Converse shoes making a dull tapping noise. There is light coming up from somewhere. 

She peers down. "Hey, there's a ladder here! It goes down a tube—a tube ladder."

Archer walks over. "Oh, there's light down there. Should we go?"

"I don't know, Archer. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Nuclear war! Nuclear war is always the worst that could happen!"

 

They start to climb down the tube ladder. 

Archer yawns: "Zowie, It's getting cold in here. My ears just got plugged up."

"Yeah, it is. A lot colder than a minute ago. It's like driving up in the mountains." 

The ladder ends on another smooth floor in a dark room. Far away, another doorway beckons with light. 

They fumble forward through the dark. 

Archer squeals: "EEEP! That hurt! There's like a countertop here. It got me in the gut." 

"Where?"

"Right here in the gut."

"No, where's the countertop?"

"Oh, go around where I am. 

"Getting hit in the gut isn't something I need."

"Why, Archer? You gotta poop?"

"…yes, It's stressing me out, too. Maybe aliens built this place. Aliens that don't...you know."

"Hmm, doubtful; everyone poops; there's a book literally called that." 

 

Archer stops: "Shhh. Quiet for a sec."

Silence. 

"Never mind, I thought I heard something."

"Oh. I hope it wasn't one of the Poopless Aliens. The idea scares me now."

"Zowie, are you afraid they'll eat us?"

"No, Archer, a Poopless Alien couldn't eat us. Then he'd have to poop." 

"You know what, Zowie? You're starting to make more sense all the time."

 

They reach the doorway and step into the light. 

They are standing at one end of a large room. A bright yellow light glows from somewhere. 

The room must be a control room of some kind. It is full of tall computers the size of refrigerators, all covered in screens, knobs, buttons—and a big steel lever on the side of each. But every computer is completely broken, smashed, and lying on its side. 

Zowie scans the room: "The place is empty! And all busted up!"

Archer slowly nods: "Yeah, it's like some kind of derelict spaceship."

 

Only one computer remains standing. They walk toward it, stepping over and around computers and piles of broken glass. 

When they reach it, they both stop. 

A dead man hangs from this computer, his arm wedged in a lever on its front. 

He wears a dark blue wool uniform covered in blood. Bright gold buttons run up the front. 

In the cold air, steam still rises from the body. 

 

Zowie points to right under the man's arm: "There's a big ole hole in that guy! Must've killed him. What should we do?"

"Dunno. He must've just died. Looks like he was doing somethin' on this computer."

Zowie looks around: "What is this place? Are we in danger?"

 

The computer console is heavily damaged. The screen is cracked, and carbon lines course across the machine as if it has been struck by lightning. 

A three-foot-long steel lever is on one side. Above the lever, it says: "Ship's Log." 

Archer steps forward and pulls the lever: "Let's find out."

It lets out a metallic squeal as the lever swings in an arc of six feet. Then, the whole machine flickers and hums to life. The hum grows stronger and stronger, turning into a vibration that rises up through Archer and Zowie's shoes and into their entire bodies. 

The minute the vibration hits their heads, Archer and Zowie lose consciousness and slip down into the black again.

 

“Zowie, are you there?”

“Yup.”

“This feels like a dream, but we’re both in it.”

“Yup.”

“What are we watching?”

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re in the ship log. It’s showing us stuff that ship logged.” 

“But why are we just watching that screen-saver with all the stars flying past?”

“We’re going back in time!”

“Oh. Ok.”

 

A field of stars streaks past Archer and Zowie. Plummeting them through spacetime. 

Suddenly, a stubby tree of man-made complexity jumps into view. It is a spaceship plummeting through the void. 

The name “Avril” is clearly written on her side. 

“Zowie?”

“What?”

“Your face is an Avril.” 

“Archer. This is no time for jokes. We’re supposed to be watching the informational film-dream ship log is showing us.”

 

The Avril hovers in the vacuum. Now, another ship emerges from the chaos between the stars. It descends toward the Avril. It is a twin to the Avril in body, but not in spirit. 

The ships collide with an explosion of debris. Then, a massive corkscrew on the second ship begins to turn. It twists and burrows its way into the Avril’s hull. 

Shards of material fly outward and spin off into the emptiness. 

“Wow! It’s space pirates attacking!”

“Zowie, there’s no such thing as space pirates.”

“SPAAACE PIRRRATES!”

 

Without warning, Archer and Zowie’s perspective is pulled inside the Avril to the control room. This is the same control room Archer and Zowie were standing in before they entered the Ship Log. But all the computers are upright and flicker with life. Men and women in blue uniforms dash about as they desperately arm themselves. They are preparing to be boarded by the enemy ship. 

The whole Avril is shaking from the corkscrew burrowing its way inside. The crew rushes down a tunnel to where the corkscrew is emerging through a bulkhead. 

They ready themselves for battle, holding weapons in chilled hands. 

 

An explosion from the corkscrew as its tip blasts away. When the debris settles, it reveals a tunnel coming from the second vessel. 

Then, a man emerges from the tunnel and stands. But it’s not a man; it’s a giant. 

He wears leather armor with the image of a wild boar on the breastplate.

And his hands are fists of fire. 

He utters brutal words that know despair. 

Behind the giant, men emerge with short rifles. 

Both forces clash in a battle to the death. 

The scene ends, and Archer and Zowie feel themselves being pulled to a later entry in the log. 

Zowie comments: “Dang, being a spaceship crew out here seems pretty dangerous. Both these ships are gonna be needing a replacement crew to stay efficiently run spaceship.”

 

Now, they are in the control room again. All the consoles lie on their sides, destroyed. The room is empty except for the man in the blue uniform. 

He stands in front of the battered Ship’s Log console. With his right hand, he presses his side as blood slides from a deep wound. 

He is speaking directly to Archer and Zowie. The last drops of his blood drip to the floor, but his whole face glows with joy. He smiles at Archer and Zowie with the biggest and brightest smile as if he knows of some wonderful conclusion to a story. 

He speaks words of direction and encouragement: “We don’t know who you are, but we trust you. 

A lot has happened here that you will not understand. But I will tell you what you need to know. 

You are on the spaceship, Avril. 

The Avril has just been attacked. 

In the battle, the Avril has been damaged beyond repair, and the crews of both ships have been killed. 

You have been rescued from chaos to replace us—the crew. 

I am the last of the crew, and when you see this message, I will be dead. 

You need to move fast. You must escape to the spaceship that attacked the Avril. She is a ship just like the Avril but has been captured and corrupted. But we have taken steps to ensure she is empty now. 

When you get on that ship, immediately find and activate the Ship’s Log. Then, you will reset her systems and become her crew.” 

Abruptly, the whole dream ends. Archer and Zowie return to the present reality. 

 

Archer and Zowie stand in the destroyed control room again, with the dead man hanging from the computer. 

Utter quiet presses into their ears. 

Zowie wipes her eyes: "I don't know why I'm crying. Just emotional. That man sacrificed a lot to give us his message and show us what happened. What is this place?"

Archer ponders: "I know what you mean. Something really big happened here, maybe just a few minutes ago."

 

After a few seconds, Archer continues: "I guess we're the crew of this ship, now . . . whatever that means."

"Wait! . . . WE'RE the replacement crew? I was literally thinking while I was watching the battle video: 'What would be the worst outcome to this battle.' And then I thought: 'Everybody dies, and we have to be the crew.'"

"I'm telling you, Zowie, they are really scraping the bottom of the barrel in the workforce these days."

"I have so many questions now."

 

They both stare at the dead man. His eyes are closed--his mission accomplished. 

Utter quiet pressed into their ears. 

"Zowie, I don't think we're going to be the crew of the Avril for very long. I think I know why our ears keep popping."

"Why?"

"The ship is leaking air. That's the only explanation I can think of."

"Why?"

Archer continues: "Dunno. The ship's structure might be breaking. If I'm right, who knows how much time we have before all the air is gone."

"Then we die?" 

"Yeah, Zowie. We die without air."

  

Zowie's eyes brighten: "We could find that ship that boarded the Avril! We could swap ships! In the dream, it looked like all the baddies left to come over HERE! . . . Oh yeah, the dead guy kind of already told us to do that. . . . Archer, they didn't exactly pick the brightest of people to be their new spaceboy recruits, did they." 

"I don't think they picked us. It happened by chance or something. Chaos of the stars and all that."

"Zowie, where's that corkscrew thing that busted through the hull? We could get to the other ship through that."

Zowie points to the other end of the control room, the opposite end of where they came from: "It's that way! Remember, we saw it in the ships-log. Follow me!" 

 

They pass through several rooms. It is impossible to know what each room was for. They are all a jumble of broken equipment and furniture. The tunnel walls are chipped around the entrance to each room, with bits of black glass scattered everywhere. Each room has been defended dearly. 

The floor leans slightly to the left as if whatever creates gravity on the ship is degrading. 

 

Finally, they are in a massive room with a high ceiling. The corkscrew tunnel they had seen in the Ships Log emerges from a wall on the far side and lies on a pile of broken debris like a giant worm—tip blasted away. 

It is here that the battle had reached its climax. 

The bodies of men and women are scattered where they fell. 

Blue uniforms are torn and mostly indistinguishable from the battle frenzy. They hold short rifles with mangled barrels and stocks. The weapons become more primitive as they weave across the room. Spears and halberds—carried by some and emerge from others' bodies. Bits of debris lie everywhere from the force of some explosion.

 

As they near the corkscrew tunnel, they pass the giant from the Ship's Log dream. The body is stretched out face down on the floor, pierced in the back through the leather by many spears. The right hand has been chopped off at the wrist and lies on the floor beside it. But its left hand is still attached and has seven fingers and a giant thumb. The hand is set at the end of a massive wrist as thick as a regular man's leg and covered in many gashes and hack marks. 

Around the body lie the corpses of many brave men and women in blue uniforms. Smoke rises. 

 

Archer and Zowie move faster and faster, trying to get past all this. 

Archer stops: "Shhhh!" 

Somewhere far away, a tinkling metal sound shimmers. The sound hangs in the air for a minute, then collapses into their ears with a roar. A jolt and the whole ship drops to the side. 

Now, Archer and Zowie are walking downhill. 

"Zowie, this place is falling apart!"

 

They start to run toward the corkscrew tunnel. But breathing is harder now from lack of oxygen. 

They reach the corkscrew tunnel. This is where they least want to go. But, on the other side is the other ship. 

They climb the pile of debris and stumble over the lip. 

Then darkness envelops them again. 

They grope forward. 

The floor becomes steeper downhill as both ships groan under profound stress. 

Then they are sliding through the dark, the tunnel getting narrower and narrower. 

They hear the sound of an accelerating engine as if a machine somewhere is trying to keep up with the loss of air pressure. It rises to a high whine and stays there. 

Then, a red light flashes around a corner. They slide toward it. 

 

Now, an open machine door. An airlock. The engine whines somewhere around the corner. 

They climb over the threshold of the door. 

The engine whines so loud, Archer shouts: "HELP ME CLOSE THIS DOOR. IT'S THE AIRLOCK."

"OK."

"THERE, I THINK IT'S CLOSED NOW."

Everything shakes violently. The groaning and cracking sounds are deafening. 

The Avril is falling apart. And this new ship is in danger. 

Archer yells: "WE HAVE TO EJECT THE OTHER SHIP."

"WHAT?"

"THE AVRIL IS DESTROYING THIS SHIP! WE HAVE TO GET RID OF THE CORKSCREW TUNNEL"

"HOW DO WE DO THAT?"  

"I DON'T KNOW! THERE SHOULD BE SOME CONTROLS."

"OK, LET'S LOOK FAST CAUSE I CAN BARELY HOLD ON!"

 

They begin to search desperately; the floor is more and more vertical.

"ZOWIE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!"

"ARCHER, OVER HERE. HELP ME WITH THIS LEVER."

"WHAT DOES IT DO?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

"ZOWIE, IT'S NOT MOVING. I'M ABOUT TO FALL!"

"YOU GOT TO HANG ON!"

"IT HAS A CATCH ON THE SIDE. WE NEED TO FLIP THIS FIRST."

"FLIP IT NOW. . . . NOW, THE LEVER!"

Heavy engines vibrate, then thud to a stop. The floor levels, and then complete silence as the ships disconnect. 

 

Archer and Zowie look through a window on the closed airlock door.

At first, they see only the dark tunnel they had come from, but then a circle of starlight appears as it separates from the ship. 

Then, the ship they came from slowly drifts away, revealing more of herself with each moment. 

The scars from the force of the corkscrew tunnel's entrance, then more of the structure. And finally, the entire ship. 

She is a stubby tree of man-made complexity. Beams and exostructures bulge like branches from a fat trunk. Below the trunk, a root of red light stabs down through the night. 

The ship turns as she falls away, revealing the name "Avril." 

Then, she breaks apart. 

One piece becomes two. Then, two bursts silently into thousands. Each part of the Avril moving at its own speed--drifting, spinning, and falling. 

As the trunk cracks, it reveals a fierce spinning and spitting entity inside. Black, orange, and yellow. It reaches out and pulls each piece to itself, spewing multicolored radiation. It morphs the reality around as it rotates. 

The Avril consumes herself and falls away below. 

Then, Archer and Zowie stare into the darkness of deep intergalactic space. 

"Zowie, I still need to poop."

 

Copyright 2025 by Hans Bluedorn. All rights reserved. 

Last updated: June, 2025