Captain Claw and Private Woof

Rainy day

It is raining outside and I am inside. I am looking out of the window, and I can see that Private Woof is having fun in the rain. The more I look, the more fun he is having. I ask my mum why I am not allowed to have fun, and she says that hospitals are not much fun and that I should avoid the rain. I think this is strange. I was in the hospital last month and they gave me free ice cream and I could play with the toys they had.

There was even a nice kid there. He was there for more time than I was. He said that he has many skeletons. I do not know what he meant by that. I could see he only has one. He was probably just joking. Maybe one day I would see him again. That gave me an idea. If I go out and play with Private Woof, I can have fun and then I will see my friend in the hospital.

I sneak downstairs. My mum is busy explaining to my dad that he should not care about the cow at work. He says he works in an office, but I think that he is an animal doctor. I want to tell dad that he should care about the cow, but then I remember what I am doing and I sneak out into the garden. The rain feels like a shower and for a second I want to run back inside. But I remember why I am here and I walk further.

I can see Private Woof chasing rain drops and barking at birds. They are trying to land on his house. I am not sure why he does not let birds stay there, because I do not mind birds on our house at all. But Private Woof always has his own reasons.

I feel very happy that I am outside. The rain tickles my nose and I sneeze. Private Woof hears it and runs to me. He starts jumping and I start laughing. I turn around to see if anybody saw us. I can see two eyes in the window. Luckily it is Captain Claw. Captain Claw is allergic to water. I once wanted to take a shower with him. The next day, my mum bought three boxes of bandaids just in case.

Private Woof is still jumping on me. His feet leave brown marks on my trousers. I laugh and I put my hands in the mud. I then leave brown marks on his back as well. I know my mum will be upset about the trousers. She was very upset when I forgot my chocolate in my trousers. She had a great idea. She said she will buy me brown trousers and solve the problem.

I think hard and then Private Woof gives me an idea. He rolls around in a puddle and comes out clean. I do the same. The plan is working. I cannot see any more brown on my trousers. I start playing with Private Woof. We are splashing water at each other and I am laughing and Private Woof is barking.

The door flies open, and my dad runs out shouting. “Come back in,” he shouts. That excites Private Woof. He runs towards my dad. My dad does not see him and he falls over, straight into the puddle. "Now you will have clean clothes as well," I say. But my dad does not look happy about clean clothes.

My mum starts laughing when she sees us. She does not agree that I already had a shower outside and I have to shower again. Later I am drinking cocoa and I hear my dad sneeze. I tell him that he is lucky, now he can go play with my friend in the hospital. But he does not seem to be too happy about it.

Space

A spaceship was adrift around 15 kilometers from mine, and I approached cautiously. It always pays to be careful in the areas crowded with pirates. It could easily be a trap, but on the other hand, it could easily be a tidy sum in my pocket.

Closing in, I could feel the familiar sense of fear, even though I was an old hand in space, the excitement and fear still kept me on edge. I suspected that once the fear failed to show, I would be dead.

In the far frontiers of space, you need to be afraid; fear keeps you on your toes and helps you survive. Many of my friends were disintegrated once they lost their fear, when their edge was dulled by time and weariness.

“Joe, the scan is complete”.

Ally’s voice cleared my head of these thoughts, and I leaned in to the screen to see what she found. Ally was the ship’s AI, my sidekick and my company in the lonely reaches of space. Without the company of AIs, humans would be unable to travel for so long on their own.

The screens showed nothing unusual, the ship appeared to be what it looked like, a derelict hull drifting through space, no life signs, no heat, no movement, no nothing. I did not think about it for long, and decided to approach.

The next few minutes passed in silence, Ally knowing full well that I needed the peace and quiet to focus, and that checking the equipment required a lot of attention. Out here, your equipment was your life, there was nobody else around for light seconds, and no help would be forthcoming if I got myself in trouble.

I sighed, and made my way to the airlock. I knew that the weariness that was my companion lately was not a good sign, and that I was overdue for some R&R, hopefully the derelict ahead would provide me with the means to do so. Perhaps even save some money in the bank.

These thoughts stayed with me, as I was dragging on the bulky space suit and checking the air supply and all the countless things that could and sometimes did go wrong. The nature of space is such, that with most it was enough that they went wrong once.

All system green, a final “Good luck” from Ally, the airlock cycled, and opened into the cold space. No matter how many times I did this, the raw, unfiltered view of the infinite number of stars always took my breath away. I gathered my wits, and floated out of the airlock. “Can you hear me?” I enquired, and Ally’s steady voice confirmed the radio connection was open.

I floated through the empty space, the two ships around 300 meters apart, propelling myself with gentle thrusts. I heard stories of spacers who got too excited, and creamed themselves on the armor of their targets, moving too fast.

I gently landed on the hull of the empty vessel, the hull pocked with asteroid marks. Normally, the shields will protect the ship from such impacts, meaning that the ship has been here for a very long time. The ship was clearly human, even though the language used for the markings was not one known to me or Ally. Perhaps the age of the ship explains that as well.

I engaged the magnetic shoes, and made my way towards what seemed to be the bridge, a slight bulge towards the front of the ship. Soon I found an open airlock, a gaping white hole in the black hull, with black streaks etched into it, it was clearly forcibly open, but the traces were as ancient as the pockmarks. Nevertheless, I cautiously made my way inside. The ship was open to space, and the darkness was complete, my flashlights could only penetrate so far, and I could see strange markings on the wall, seemingly hand written messages left behind god knows when.

I initiated another scan, and busied myself with the console next to the airlock door. The news were mixed, while the console was unresponsive, I did detect a weak current running through it, perhaps the auxiliary life support on its last legs, but perhaps the sign that the reactor was still ticking over. The scan came back, with a rough layout of the ship, and I determined where the reactor is most likely to be.

While walking through the ship, my soundless steps would cause dust flying in all direction, and I started to relax, the ship was ancient, nothing has lived or moved here for centuries. And I soon drifted away in thoughts, thinking about my life; I traverse the empty gulfs between planets, visiting old battle locations, points of interest and so on, looking for salvageable items that I then sell on the open market.

However lately, I have been thinking of myself less and less as a salvager, and more and more as a scavenger, simply living off the work of others, taking what I could and flogging it on without any respect for the most often dead owners. This was an illogical train of thought, and I know salvagers were just as useful as many other professions, but the feeling was there to stay.

So occupied I made my way through the dead ship, my light shining into rooms small and large, some quite evidently living quarters, while with others I could only guess about their original purpose.

As I was nearing the reactor room, I suddenly bumped into a dead plant, frozen solid in the airless cold, floating in the middle of the weightless space. This was a curious sight, as generally plants were not encouraged outside of the hydroponic gardens, their pollen would get everywhere, clogging the filters and feeding bacteria, and they produced dust, which can be an annoyance in zero-g.

The further in I got, the more plants I bumped into, it was hard to say what they were in their shriveled state, but Ally quickly analyzed them and discovered they were plants, something from a ship’s garden, yet Ally could not pinpoint the exact species.

Some hit my suit, shattering on impact, sending tiny slivers of frozen matter through the corridor, twinkling in the light of my torch. Ally distracted me from the sight with the report that some of the plants seem less ancient than others and that the closer I was to the reactor, the younger they were.

My curiosity was roused; did it mean plants used to grow in these corridors, until they were finally snuffed out when the ship was exposed to vacuum? Why would the people on the ship allow the plants to grow unchecked in the living quarters, and even worse, the reactor area? Putting the questions aside, I pushed forward, shattering several more of the dead plants as I went along.

Soon, there were enough of them that I could barely see ahead, and I could hear them shatter on my suit. It was a strange tinkling sound, and to me it sounded strangely melancholic, probably because of what it represented.

Nearing the reactor, I started to have a bad feeling about the whole situation, I could feel the ground vibrate slightly, which was supposed to be a good sign, meaning that the generator still is producing something. But why didn’t the scans pick up on it?

The answer suddenly appeared through a hail of dead plants, I was standing at the door to the reactor chamber, it was wide open, and plant meteorites were slowly drifting through, as if propelled by a gentle breeze, which was impossible.

Stepping through, I was faced with an incredible sight, the whole reactor room was bursting with plant matter, and it was in motion, I could feel the hum of the reactor and yet I could not see it, the plant matter was everywhere, and I started feeling claustrophobic, thousands of floating objects were hitting me, shattering and flying away on collision courses with the rest of the room and soon I was enveloped in a blizzard of plant flakes.

I pushed on, towards the reactor, soon losing sight of the door, when I bumped into something solid, yet it was unlike any reactor I have ever seen before. Perplexed, I ran a scan, realizing that this, this was the source of the remnants that floated along the corridors.

I will never know what happened to this abandoned ship or its crew, but it seems like that at some point after it was abandoned, the plants spread across the ship, and started converging around the generator, the only source of heat and light, and then when the airlock was blown the growth around the reactor managed to somehow survive, feeding off the reactor itself, while slowly losing the outer layers to the hard vacuum of space.

I must have been standing there for 10 minutes, an immobile snowman, covered in the dead matter, watching it live, survive, and die in front of me. In a state of shock, I moved to the control panel, and wiped the thick layer of dust, of dead life from it, checking the readouts and the ship, it seemed to be in working order, and even the atmosphere generator was chugging uselessly away, producing air that got sucked out into space. That probably explained why the plant was still alive and the slow eternal movement of the dead parts towards the open airlock.

The ship was in good condition, and it would bring me enough money to retire for a number of years, perhaps even for good, all I needed to do was get rid of the plant, and the bounty was mine.

As I stood there, deciding, watching the plant choke the reactor, a parasite entangled around the sleek mechanical provider of sustenance, I knew what I had to do.

Returning to my ship, I quickly gathered the ballast material used to block the unlikely hull breaches, and it was a matter of minutes before the airlock was closed and sealed from outside influence.

I ordered Ally to turn our ship around, and I felt I could hear the approval in her “Yes Captain". The derelict cut an incredibly black shape in the sky filled with stars, as it drifted on, slowly filling with air, and the plant would now be able to spread and claim the ship as its own.

War

War, war never changes.

Even after years of night battles across Grade 4, sector F, table 3, I still get the same feeling of dread before every incursion. The Drill Sergeants move through the assembled troops, whipping us into a frenzy.

It is hard to get a fresh pen into the appropriate scissor killing mood, but the drill sergeants are old hands, and allusions and references to spilled ink, burst cartridges and shorn caps soon convince even the most hesitant recruit into a murderous rage.

The old guard, few of us that remain, Fountain Joe, Balls Point and I, remain skeptical, our faces unreadable in the encroaching murk. We have seen too much to readily believe our own line, paper scissors cracked open, their screws undone, threads poking out of holes.

We knew that the enemy used the same tactics, the same persuasive words and the same desire to rule the sector. However there was no way out, there was no peaceful coexistence, the natural tendency of the pens to create and the tendency of the scissors to destroy could not cohabit, war was the only solution.

Monstrosities have been committed to us and by us and there seems to be no end to this war. The scissors give no quarter, and none is given.

But tonight, tonight war would change; the three of us were given a special assignment. We were to meet an informer and prepare a special missive to the pupils, the daytime rulers of the quadrant.

Other troops were simply there to provide a diversion. Simple cannon fodder, there to be used and replaced daily by the mysterious supply teachers, we suspected the same was done to the scissors, and we could only guess why they would support both sides.

We met the piece of paper in the shadow behind a neutral paint pot, who was bribed to look the other way. We quickly agreed on the course of action, and Joe started scribbling on the leaf.



We stood back, looking at it, with hope in our eyes. Finally, the war would change, the pupils would turn their wrathful eyes upon the scissors.

Suddenly I heard the sound of the scissors closing, and felt terrible pain. I blacked out, and when I came too, I discovered that my lower half was missing, the spring, the cap, gone; I was slowly leaking ink, smearing the table with it.

Joe was gone, sheared in half his innards spread across the grainy desk. Balls point was nowhere to be seen, only his trace drawn towards the edge of the table, showing how he struggled before being thrown off.

Even worse, when I looked up, I saw that our plans were for naught. The scissors have won, and we were doomed. Stretched ahead of me, taped to the punctured paint pot, was the missive.



They have subverted our message of peace to their own ends, and now the wrath of the pupils will turn against us. My thoughts grew blurry, the loss of ink taking its toll, and I blacked out for one last time.

In the morning, the supply teacher entered the room carrying the box, replacing the tools pupils damaged the day before. He stopped at table three and read the mutilated note. “I will have to talk to the teacher,” he thought, “a kid with such imagination would do well not to let it go to waste.”

Captain Claw and Private Woof

There is a dog in the yard. I saw it through the window. How did it get there? I asked my parents but they did not know. I am a bit worried, because my cat, Captain Claw is out in the garden as well. I know that dogs do not like cats, but I do not know why.

I decided to go out, and ask the dog what he wants. But when I asked the dog, he did not reply, he just hit his tail on the ground and looked at me. I don’t know why, but his eyes are very sad and I feel sorry for the dog. I could not see Captain Claw anywhere, but that was not unusual. Usually I only see him after he jumps on me. He likes jumping on people and my father often says he is a catastrophe, but I do not think he means it, because he laughs every time he says it.

The dog still looks sad and I do not know what to do, so I decide to give him some food. For some reason he does not like the food. I show him the can, and the picture of the cat on the can, but he still does not eat it. Perhaps dogs do not like how cats taste and that is why they fight. I will ask my father later.

The tree suddenly shakes, and Captain Claw jumps out. I get ready to feel the claws, but the cat has other ideas. He lands right on the dog and rolls him over. The dog makes a very funny whine, just like when mommy sees a dead mouse that Captain Claw brings in. Then he jumps up and runs under the bush. I can only see his sad eyes in the bush, and for some reason that makes me sad as well.

Captain claw looks very happy that he scared the poor dog and I show him my tongue. He does not seem to care and I give him a dirty look as well. I don’t know what to do with the dog and I decide to get him out. “Woof,” I say, “Woof, woof”, I remember that is how dogs speak from the stories my mum reads to me. But again, the dog does not respond.

I do the only other thing I can remember, and lie down on the floor and extend my hand towards the dog. Nothing happens at first and my hand becomes tired. But then the dog slowly comes out of the bush and walks closer. He has a funny walk. Captain Claw walks like he is a tank, while the dog walks like my grandmother. Head down, ears to the floor, moving slowly.

When he finally gets to me, he slowly licks my hand. That makes me laugh and my laughter makes him stop. I give him a pat on the head and he seems happier already. So I give him one more. Soon we are both happy. And then Captain Claw comes by and for a change does not jump on anyone. I think he wants a pat as well, so I give him one too. Soon we are all happy.

I know I now have a hard task in front of me. When mum and dad come home from work in the evening, I have to tell them that we have a new dog. But I have to tell them so they will think it was their idea. I also have to come up with a name for the dog. Shouting “dog” does not seem to work all the time.

I spend a few more minutes playing with the two furry animals, and think of a perfect name. “You are now known as Private Woof”, I tell the dog. He seems very impressed and his eyes are less sad. We continue playing in the sunny garden.

The Great Escape

Clouds all around me, pressing in, depressing in, redepressing in and so on no need to be too clever and elaborate eh. Air conditioning whine slowly turning my brain into gooey mush and the centidigital noise of keyboards turning my innards into slime.

Tomorrow, tomorrow is the only thing keeping me sane, preventing my eternal scream from becoming audible, remaining caged within the ol' cranium, as I quaintly call it. All the other drones contently mesmerized by their work, I am free to dream of my epic adventure, it will be so ‘sweet’ as the less cultured people say.

Four hours till the end of shift, darkness closing in fast, I cannot do this anymore, time for a toilet break. The hag nag nagager (ha ha) will probably tell me I am spending too much time on the toilet but what does she know about a man's toiletary needs.

Minutes go by like hours, and hours pass like days, but finally only 20 minutes remain, I will leave a bit earlier, everyone does it anyway and I do more and better work than the others as well, if only the cow would see that. To be honest it’s not that hard to be better than 90 % of the mouthbreathers inhabiting this office.

....

It is so good to be out again, so good to be in shape, I feel so sorry for the irritants in my life, in the end it’s not their fault they are locked into their cycle of defeat. As I breathe in the cold air, it makes me cough, must be all the air conditioning in the office, if you can call it that.

So good to be in the forest, even if it was less tangled last time I was here, I missed you forest, I am sorry I was away, but there were games to be played and work to be avoided.

My lungs feel so heavy, damn airconditioning, damn it to hell, and even further than that, damn it to middle management, full of incompetent sycophants who can’t recognize talent.

And now my legs as well, poor legs, atrophied by the horrible chairs we have to sit in, our bodies trapped, together with our minds, except mine, I still have mine, and you will never have it.

I can hear the whistling of air into my lungs, perhaps I should sue them, and I would win so much money I would never have to work again, finally I would be able to follow my true dreams, I would show Spielberg what a real movie maker can do.

Minutes go by like hours, and hours pass like days, but finally only 20 minutes remain, and I will be on the peak soon, sunlight awaits for me on top. It is a shame I could not wake up early enough for the sunrise, but work just leaves me so drained. Ten is early enough to get out of bed in my humblest opinion.

There we are, only a few dozen steps away, it took me 45 minutes to get to the peak today, proof of what good shape I am in, even though that old guy passed me, I left quite a few ladies looking after me. Two steps now, and, and …

Clouds all around me, pressing in, depressing in…

Mind the Gap

I see a mouse under the rails, wonder what is doing there; surely there be no food for it to eat? It and eat, that is quite funny how them words sound the same, as often we eat it, even though it rarely eats, maybe I should write it down. I bet guys at work would be impressed.


I see a mouse under the rails, damn nuisance, after all the cutbacks they can't even afford to deratize the system and the vermin gets everywhere. I can’t remember seeing a mouse anywhere under the previous government. London will rue the day when they elected that nincompoop.


I see a mouse under the rails, poor lost creature, trapped in a world of artificial light, feeling no rain on its skin, never feeling the sun, wilting under the impersonal glare of the lamps. Just like me, come to think of it, locked in the office, irradiated by a computer, cooled by air conditioning and sprayed by the boss’s temper.


I see a mouse under the rails and a beer ad above the rails, and today's Wednesday already, yes! Can’t wait to go to the pub after work, I hope I get to see her there again; I could see how she was looking at me, definitely some chemistry going on there. Hopefully this time she won’t have a friend around so I can make my approach.


I see a mouse under the rails, hello little mousey, aren’t you cute; I used to want to have a mouse when I was young, but my stupid parents wouldn't let me, would they. Oh mousey, we would have had fun together, and no one could get between us not even Sheila. I wonder what happened to her; I bet she’s old and fat now, and divorced.


I see a mouse under the rails, stupid mouse, stupid rails, stupid world, doesn’t it see how pointless it all is, what is the point stupid mouse? Why do you run around like a stupid animal sniffing at garbage, spending so much energy? You will die anyway like we all will without even getting promoted once. Stupid mouse.


I see a mouse under the rails, so serene, so focused, it knows exactly what it wants, exactly where to get it, and is a perfect tool for the environment. I wish I was like that, where is my purpose, what is my goal, after Stanley left me, and without him… I am glad at least the mouse is confident in its existence.


I see a mouse under the rails, I wonder what I should get to eat tonight, perhaps Waitrose or Sainsbury’s? They have better ice cream don’t they and I deserve some after a long day, don’t I? Perhaps even some chocolate, I’m going to go to the gym next week to burn it off for sure.


I see a mouse under the rails, it’s nice and furry and I am sure it would feel nice crawling around on my skin, such an exciting feeling that must be. The fingernails of an alien lover completely devoted to you, a simple, unfathomable mind ready to create pleasure.


I see a mouse under the rails, and look at those shoes, they must’ve cost a fortune, if only I could afford shoes like that, all the ladies in marketing would be so jealous, thinking they're so high and mighty with their Gucci stuff.



I see people above the rails, all staring at me, same blank faces, luckily the darkness wipes them away, and a helpful voice explains, “Mind the gap”.