Its a collection of short stories about aliens, space and nanotech I read online. Just wanted to share. Read and share your thoughts.

Nanofiction: GLOW
“OK Jimmy; I’m off. Let me in when I’m
finished. And remember, DON’T touch the blue
button!” Jimmy always got freaked out when his Mum
was like this. Not really listening, he nodded. Sheila finished suiting up and exited the airlock.
The planet was a cesspool of flesh-eating
bugs, but she needed to fix that stabiliser.
#
Later, a tired Sheila entered the airlock and
waved at the camera. Jimmy, his music blaring
in his headphones, waved back. Out of the
corner of his eye he saw the flashing blue
button and pushed it. In the airlock, the biohazard incinerator began
to glow and Sheila screamed...

DUST:

Professor Pulvere stood in front of the rig at
the back of his laboratory. He was sweating,
the authorities were getting close. Luckily, he
had been about to test his invention; so why not on himself? If it worked he’d be transported to a parallel world and would be safe.
He fired up the contraption, a ghostly luminosity filling the air. The sirens were
screaming just outside, and so he dived into the shimmering light.
In another lab, immeasurably distant, but just a
jump away, a cloud of dust materialised; just
in time for the late night janitor to sweep it
away.

SLIP:

The King stared into the dim screen. His
generals had informed him that this would be
the last chance to communicate.

“Have all the crops been planted?”

“Yes... crrrxck... Your Majesty,” came the
static-filled reply.

“The colony’s defences,” continued the King,
“are all in place?”

“Of course King... crrrxck...” The connection
was almost gone.

“One last thing...” He was rushing now. “Make
sure that all the children are tortured.”

The Military Governor blinked, but he knew
better than to disobey. “Very well, King Herod.”

The connection broke and the King sat back,
satisfied.
A tickle of doubt entered his brain. ‘I did say
tutored just now...

Didn’t I?’

GUEST:

Benjamin Doubtfire was a staid old man who
held no truck with frivolity. He was also a world
renowned sceptic who had made a career of
debunking paranormal activities; his particular
forte being assigning rational explanations to
UFO sightings.

As Dr. Doubtfire awoke, he tried to recall how
he’d come to be lying face down on a shiny
metallic surface. It was all a blank. “Good evening, doctor,” said a disembodied
voice. “We are sooooo glad that you could be
our guest.” The ‘grey’ stepped forward, its
massive eyes twinkling, a strange probe in its
slender fingered hand. Dr. Doubtfire clenched his buttocks in vain...

DISAPPEAR:
As we entered the village, ShanRaaa bragged of his conquests among the young mollies there, while blowing smoke rings of that god- awful stuff of his.
Seeing us, a number of angry MmmmRawh ran up. I could tell they were angry, despite their cute furry faces. It was the knives.
ShanRaaa dodged the first blade that was thrown and he melted away; leaving me surrounded by angry knife-wielding MmmmRawh and a slowly dissipating cloud of foul-smelling smoke.

BREAKFAST:

I should have known better than to continue on
the trail after dark. The manjak is slow and
stupid, I could have slept in a tree for the night
and caught up with it in the morning. But no... I had to prove that humans are expert
hunters!

All it took was one slip, one misplaced boot,
and I was down. Foot trapped between two
rocks. I considered the options: sit here and
hope for rescue or cut off my foot.

I went with
option number one. As the sky begins to turn grey, I hear the
snuffling sound of shredaxes waking up.


Breakfast time...

BUSHMEAT SOUP: My personal favorite. Nigerians don't dull
#
Milesix Johns tramped along the red sand by
the side of the highway. He'd been studying in
his rooms all day and needed to allow some
fresh air into his head to clear his brain; and so
he had decided that cooking tonight was just
too much effort.

Milesix was heading for Madam Mba’s, she of the incomparable rice
and beans, to take his dinner there. The sun was going down behind the hills to his
right, turning the sky a glorious purple above
the golden peaks.

Milesix once again
questioned his decision to study accountancy;
he knew that sitting outside, painting that
glorious vista, would be so much better for his soul. But a man must earn a living; or so his
father insisted...

Up ahead was the town motor park, at the
junction between the highway and the narrow
road leading into the town proper.

*bushmeat soup cont'd*

He was momentarily distracted by a vendor who was playing the latest CD by the
Ali Musa All Stars, but, no matter how much he
coveted the disc, money was not in great
supply and so he resisted the temptation.


Madam Mba was at her usual spot, she sat on
a low stool tending a carefully rationed fire, her
Dutch Wax wrapper improbably pristine.

Before sitting, Milesix ordered his usual plate
of rice and beans and stooped to sniff the rich
red soup that was bubbling in a large pan perched upon three stones in the fire. The
mouth-watering aroma of palm oil rose from
the pan, calling to him.

"What is your soup
today?"
Madam Mba smiled, this was always the
question, and so she gave her traditional
answer.

"Bushmeat in palm oil gravy."

"And the provenance of the meat? Is it
monkey or rat, is it dog or cat?"

"It is bushmeat, there is nothing more to tell."

Laughing, Milesix added bushmeat soup to his
order and made for the table.

*bushmeat soup cont'd II*

Pious Chukwu was sitting in his normal spot at one end of the bench and Milesix nodded a
greeting to him.

"Good evening Pious. I hope
that your day was fruitful."
"Good evening Milesix. It was indeed. And
you? I hope that you are well?"

"My brain is crying for release, but, apart from
that, I am well."

"So you are still studying?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Have you heard of all of the excitement last
night?"

"No, I have been in my house all day. What
have I missed?"

"No one knows! There were rumours of an
attempted coup; others tell of the return of the
Gods, still others (those who watch too many
American television shows) tell of alien
visitations. All that I know is that the military
helicopters were flying all night, searchlights blazing."

Milesix laughed, “Aliens!”
Madam Mba approached and placed two dishes in front of Milesix; her famous rice and beans and a bowl of soup. “Thank you
madam,” said the student.

*bushmeat soup cont'd III*

Madam Mba smiled and returned with a plastic
mug of water drawn from the bucket that she
kept at the end of the table. Milesix gave thanks for the food and dug in with his spoon. As he ate, Pious, who had finished his meal but was loitering, as was his
custom, carried on the conversation. Pious
needed no responses to keep things moving. It
had been said that, if he were abandoned alone in the mountains, Pious would still have his favourite person there to talk to. “I wonder
if we will ever be visited by aliens?” he began.
“There would be much that they could teach
us, these great beings from the stars. Or
would they be great? We might be giants compared to them. I wonder if the helicopters
will be out and about again tonight.”

Milesix knew that no reply was needed to any
of the statements and so he simply continued
eating. The soup was wonderful, rich and
greasy from the palm oil, the meat, whatever it
was, was delicate and tasty; like chicken. He
wondered where Madam Mba obtained her supplies...

*bushmeat cont'd IV*

He was almost finished and scooped up the
dregs from the bowl. The last morsel went into his mouth and he sucked on the bone; sucked,
but was not rewarded by tender meat. He took
the ‘bone’ from his mouth and gaped. It was
not animal at all, but some sort of metal, it was
a small band with a dark jewel-like setting.
Within the jewel flickered red squiggles; they could have been numbers, or perhaps, letters;
but they were in a script that he had never
before seen, and so he couldn't tell. There
were tiny protrusions on the item that seemed
to be impossibly small buttons, too small for
Milesix’s fingers to operate. As he inspected the artefact, the last squiggle changed and
Milesix glanced at the watch on his wrist
making a terrible, but inevitable, connection.

*bushmeat soup finale*

He swallowed hard, trying to prevent the, now acrid, soup from welling up from his belly and out onto the table. With words that tasted like ash he called to the proprietor, "Madam Mba!
Tell me. It is very important, where did your butcher get this bushmeat?"


#
As he spoke, the sound of helicopters could
be heard, the helicopters that were continuing
their search for whatever it was that had
landed the night before...

Nice! Nairaland writers should make their own contributions.

Come to think of it, I have never read any science fiction or Paranormal stories here.

G

Frankenstein:
Nice! Nairaland writers should make their own contributions.

Come to think of it, I have never read any science fiction or Paranormal stories here.

Try mine.....
Its ALIEN: GALAXY AT WAR!!!!
Check ma profile

Wooow, I enjoyed reading all, especially the bushmeat ( alien bushmeat) Hahahaha, nice short stories. The time travelling professor that turned to dust made me laugh.

I love sci-fi so much

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Guy, this is really nice, big ups.

Alitair:
SLIP:
The King stared into the dim screen. His generals had informed him that this would be the last chance to communicate.
“Have all the crops been planted?”
“Yes... crrrxck... Your Majesty,” came the static-filled reply.
“The colony’s defences,” continued the King, “are all in place?”
“Of course King... crrrxck...” The connection was almost gone.
“One last thing...” He was rushing now. “Make sure that all the children are tortured.”
The Military Governor blinked, but he knew better than to disobey. “Very well, King Herod.”
The connection broke and the King sat back, satisfied. A tickle of doubt entered his brain. ‘I did say tutored just now...
Didn’t I?’

This was funny