Faulty Prophet: A Funny Sci-Fi Space Adventure by Karl Beecher

Author:Karl Beecher [Beecher, Karl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B081B55ZJ7
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2019-12-10T00:00:00+00:00

24

Colin's vision was suffused with white light, and he heard the echo of unearthly choral sounds.

It all seemed strangely familiar.

That familiarity kept Colin feeling calm. It must have been imposed. He of all people knew he would normally be running around in panic like a headless chicken by now. Apt, because he didn't seem to have a head at the moment. Or any physical presence he could sense for that matter.

Soon enough, the white light and choral sounds both died away, leaving behind a silent, infinite darkness pin-pricked with starlight. For a moment, Colin felt as utterly alone as it was possible to feel.

A light shone in the distance. It seemed to come closer, growing into a multi-coloured spectral swirl. Endless shades and hues, some Colin didn't even recognise, swam silently in the distortion.

Finally, it stopped moving. It floated in space, the colours melding into one round beam of light. A shadow emerged from it, blurry at first, but it soon sharpened into the outline of a figure.

Colin had a strong suspicion about who he was going to see.

"You again?" Colin heard himself say.

"Indeed," smiled Alec Guinness as the jumble of colours behind him faded into nothing. "We meet again, Colin Douglass."

"What have you done?" demanded Colin. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Time is short, Colin Douglass, I have much to tell you and little time in which to do it."

"But where am I?"

"Still exactly where you were a moment ago," the old thespian assured him.

That was clearly impossible. "But…I was…"

"Your body remains where it is. It has not moved. Neither is it the case that I have come to you. Not physically at any rate. Rather, I am communicating to you from where I reside."

"And where's that?"

"That would be difficult to explain," came the considered response, "particularly in terms that your limited human brain might comprehend."

Charming. Then something dawned on Colin.

"Human brain?" he said. "You're not human then?"

"No," replied Alec Guinness. "I am a member of the race which your species has come to call the Predecessors."

"You are?"

In the heat of the moment, it felt so easy to believe it. Tyresa's talk about so-called simpler and more plausible explanations held no water right now. This felt like the real thing. Occam's Razor was all very well, but Occam never saw the ghost of Alec Guinness emerge from a rainbow-coloured whirligig in outer space.

Incredible. He was communicating with an alien race!

And, from what he'd heard, this was a highly advanced race whom nobody had ever met before. This might be first contact! He was presently a representative of his species, conducting the first conversation between humanity and the Predecessors. This exchange might end up in the history books.

The weight of history was on his shoulders. He had to say something. Something noble, memorable, full of gravitas.

"Gosh," he said finally. "So, you're not Alec Guinness then?"

Okay, in terms of first words, that was hardly in Neil Armstrong territory. Quite honestly, he couldn't think of what to say. If he opened his mouth again, he'd probably end up asking what the weather was like in their dimension.

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