IGMS Issue 4 by IGMS

Author:IGMS
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Hatrack River Enterprises
Published: 2007-01-31T16:00:00+00:00

Miniature

by Peter Friend

Artwork by Nick Greenwood

* * *

Three days later it happened again -- knock, knock, knock at Tom's front door, just as he was brushing glue over a papier-mâché hill.

Probably that bloody social services woman again, wanting to drag him along to a Seniors' Sing-Along or some such witless nonsense. Couldn't she get it into her thick head that people came to a retirement village for a bit of peace and quiet? He yanked his door open, ready to give her a good earful.

And stopped. It wasn't her at all; it was one of them alien interviewers, looking twice as ugly in real life as they did on the television. Still, he'd seen worse. He wasn't scared at all, not like some folks.

"Morning," he said, because Ruth had always insisted on being polite to strangers.

"We may talk please, random human," it said, each word in a different voice.

He snorted. "Me? I've never done anything you fellas would be interested in. And I'm busy. This place is chockfull of silly old fools with nothing better to do than gossip all day -- go interview one of them."

That got a reaction, not from the alien but from the other residents, watching through their half-open doors and lace curtains. Served them right.

"You are random," the alien told Tom in three voices, and waved a hundred dollar note at him.

"Well, why didn't you say so before?" he said, because he was always happy to help out folks with more money than brains, no matter what planet they came from. "But I've got glue drying in here, so we'll have to talk while I work."

The alien waddled inside on three stumpy legs. Tom poked his tongue out at his neighbours and closed the door just to spoil their view.

"What is this thing?" the alien asked, pointing its head at the benches -- well, pointing its front end at least, because it didn't seem to have a head as such.

"A model railway. Haven't you fellas seen one before?"

"Model railway," it parroted back to him in his own voice.

For a moment he thought it was making fun of him, then realised this must be how it always talked, by copying people's voices.

"Yeah, like a real railway, but . . . um . . . with models," he said as he spread green sawdust over the sticky hill. "Sorry, don't think I've ever needed to explain it to anyone before. Even little kids get the idea straight away."

The alien pulled out a shiny gizmo from somewhere and suddenly a little black and white movie of an old Wild West train appeared in mid-air, puffing smoke as it rolled past. The alien fiddled with the gizmo and the little train reappeared on Tom's model railway, right on the tracks in front of Pumahara Station, then vanished.

"Understanding," said the alien. "Miniature reality."

Tom laughed. "Yeah, you got the idea. That some kind of hologram projector, huh? Mighty nice. Sell a few billion of them to us dumb humans -- make yourself a fortune.

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