PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

 

CHAPTER 1- LS6000

 

Commander Zentrik was just finishing his bitter black coffee and entering endless data into the computer mainframe when he heard a monotonous knock on the door—1, 2, 3, 4. He took another quick sip and set his NASA mug down on the stainless steel table, entered the data, however incomplete, just so his morning work wouldn’t be lost, then exclaimed loudly enough to guarantee that the knocker would hear, “Yes, enter free!”

 

It was the young, newly signed cosmonaut. As he entered, the door didn’t creak but instead opened smoothly on its greased hinges and pushed a breeze from wall to wall with an ethereal murmur. He closed the sleek door behind him and turned around to address the Commander. The boy’s face was glistening with coconut oil applied after his shave not an hour ago, giving a profound dimension of deepness to his sharp, vibrant cheekbones. His eyes were big, bright, and calm. He wore his beige hat and uniform that were provided yesternight. He had folded the garments meticulously, like any good soldier, and slid them under his silken cot and slept.

 

“Galvin, Sir, reporting for duty,” he said and saluted.

 

“Galvin, yes. Do you happen to know why you’re here?”

 

“I haven’t been informed much as yet, so not really.”

 

“We will discuss your mission in a bit. Go get some breakfast.”

 

Galvin departed and walked through the corridors. His stiff boots clacked like hooves on the polished marble floor. He saw the neon pink sign that read “Pantry” reflect its light with an inviting aura, perhaps designed with that purpose in mind. He turned the corner and stopped surprised in the doorframe to gaze a moment into the room. There were swiveling egg-shaped chairs nailed into the marble around a couple dining tables, everything pink, maintaining the flamboyantly feminine theme. Jesus Christ, this here quarters is awful queer, he thought and chuckled. I wonder if they serve pink goo too?

 

He went to the broad window. And by broad it is understood that the far wall was comprised entirely of glass. Outside, the industrial fumes formed frenzied eddies in the pink—pink again!—sunrise air that highlighted the various space shuttles. And the workers also fumed. They passionately sang their joyous tunes in that gaseous monsoon which mixed also with the natural morning mist of another day on the decks of LS6000 (Launching Station 6000).

 

Galvin strolled to the food platter with a stern strain fixed on his face, walking super slow as his mind was engaged in thinking about all the supernatural strangeness in this fancied world. It was as if, in that very moment, his whole life and everything was to be questioned and doubted; inklings influenced by the sudden shock and illumination of such a prominent perspective like revelation—borne by memories blossoming in earthly experience and its foregoing ubiquitous illusory illustrations. If I keep up this way, I am bound to develop a migraine.

 

 

CHAPTER 2- BOOK OF SECRETS

 

Galvin was eating a few figs as well as a spotty banana and washing the chunks of their plump flesh down with gulps of green tea, that liquid stimulant, while he wrote in his notepad, lost in a world of words. He had unstrapped the notepad from his chest pocket, the one embroidered with his name and rank on it in royal red, the one where he could feel his heartbeat blush the same color blood. Alas, what exactly he wrote in there shall remain unknown, because it was cast adrift in the vastness of space. Or perhaps it found a planet to land upon and be studied and deciphered by some undiscovered civilization. But all that is unimportant right now, there is still a fine story to tell!

 

A woman who flaunted a big wig of peacock feathers, like a bizarre Indian headdress, walked past the doorframe, cradling a dainty poodle. She was humming operas and swaying her head in a relaxed figure 8. Galvin got a good glimpse, and for whatever reason, felt the urge to catch the lady’s attention and see if any crucial kind of conversation might become of it. He flipped his book of secrets shut, tucked it back in his pocket, got up, exited the Pantry, and called to the curious looking lady, “Excuse me, miss?!”

 

She spun herself in a half circle to meet the boyish voice. She immediately recognized Galvin from his portfolio and said, “Oh, you!” She bent to gently drop the poodle onto the floor, stroked its scalp a few times, and then approached Galvin unblinking with her tan arm outstretched for a handshake. Her nametag was a solid gold plate, “Samantha Beans—Leader and Overseer.” 

 

“You’re reading my nametag, so a verbal introduction would be redundant. But I will make one anyhow. As you can see, I am Samantha Beans, Leader and Overseer of this facility. You are Galvin. You flew here in Halo Shutter, a fine craft. And how was that?”

 

“Pretty good, pretty good. Everything is quite nice really. The silken sheets are an especially pleasant implement. Never slept better in all my years, like I was in a woven womb, a cocoon. Complete comfort. Now I suppose it’s time for me to be a butterfly. I visited Zentrik’s office when I woke up and dressed. He said about my mission that we will discuss it soon.”

 

“Wonderful, we are so glad you feel welcome! How’s it sound that until you meet again with Zen, you come along with me. I can lend you a bit of company. Too much loneliness is very difficult to bear.”

 

Samantha waved the way. Her braceleted gems twinkled, like a beckon from the heavens. Galvin followed with soldier posture, again hearing his boots smack the marble and ring through the halls. He noticed that Samantha chose to walk in a pair of thin socks. Furthermore, she wore a tawny yellow skirt that danced on her hips. The poodle pranced right beside her, glancing back at Galvin often.

 

 

CHAPTER 3- LABYRINTH 

 

Samantha decided, in her wisdom, to give Galvin a tour of the premises. It’s okay not to go into much detail right now, because certain scenes in relevance will reveal themselves accordingly as the timeline develops. Though, we are familiar with a handful of the facility’s features; there is a room of respective cots, there is a labyrinth of echoing oyster hallways, there is Zentrik’s boring office, and there is the peculiar pantry with the gaudy pink aura and the window that views the launchpad. While they toured, it was much to Galvin’s astonishment that the mansion was basically empty. He then remembered the profusion of engineers working outside and realized that they will probably be the people he may soon cherish as his crew.

 

When they finished the tour, nearing the bedchamber, Samantha said, “Why don’t you have a siesta— Surely you must be tired. I will awaken thee when Zen has the freedom to chat."

 

“Yes Mam, thank you,” Galvin said and saluted. Then he went and found the bed that he had used the night previous, slid between the sheets, laid flat on his back, and stared up at the mattress above. He finally rested his eyes, his mind, and fell asleep.

 

 

CHAPTER 4- PSYCHO

 

It was a quarter to 3 PM when Galvin was aroused from his dreamworld via the slobbery licks of the petite poodle. Samantha was standing next the bed with her hands clasped together, her fingers interwoven, left to dangle at waist length, smiling contrived and staring rather wide-eyed. A psychopath, thought Galvin. Who the hell else would wanna wear such a hat— And to look like that? Get this mutt off me.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she suddenly said. “Always have. That is part of the reason you’re with us. And I’m not that mad. Only a little. But aren’t we all, dear?— Wanda, control yourself, get down! Come here, girl, come here!” she gasped and clapped.

 

Galvin was utterly dumbfounded regarding this whole scene. One minute he was dreaming, and now he fancied himself dreaming still, stuck in a state of paralysis. Wanda stopped licking and hopped off the bed. Galvin thought reality was like a corrupted diamond, physically graspable, to hold back the tsunami of bewilderment, and evermore spiritually ungraspable. He is attracted to the cosmos to pierce thru those metaphorical veils, divine portals in the outer reaches of the universe. He can’t help but to spiral in a sea of starlit energy. 

 

“And that is exactly why we wanted you,” she said. “You have a certain soul that is perfectly fit for our purposes. Now if you just follow me to Zen’s office, he will inform you more.”

 

He put on his boots and hat. Miss Beans watched him. The poodle watched him too. He wished he should have a bit of space to pontificate and to sift thru his usual life memories, reflections. Everything has been forgotten, and I must appease Miss Beans for I am but a servant of odd riddles.

 

Could it be that things tend to manifest before our very eyes, like roots of the mind shoot into sky beams, a projection of the single soul and mirror? There is a miming rhyme to reality.

 

Galvin saved this flow of knowledge to stay in his brain. He has a photographic memory, and with his imagination he scripts every word on an old scroll in calligraphy with a vulture quill. Then he puts it away until he wants to go back to those thoughts for his pocketbook meditation. He finds the writing process to be enjoyable, though of course he doesn’t have a scroll nor a quill to use in the physical realm. Hey, but notepads ain’t so bad!

 

“Here, take my hand. We go to see what is desired,” Samantha said.

 

Galvin hesitated, then responded, “Why are you who you are?— I’m sorry, but if I may be so bold, you hardly seem to fit in here. You are too different. I don’t feel that holding your hand is appropriate.”

 

“Oh hush, it was only an option. You can do whatever you want, honeysuckle. There is no limitation, no end level, if acceptance is practiced properly. Have faith in your placement. You have the privilege of roaming galaxies. Be happy!” 

 

 

CHAPTER 5- THE MISSION

 

As Galvin knocked, opened the door, and entered the office, just like he did in the morning, when he turned he saw Zen sitting with legs kicked up on the desk, looking expectantly in his direction toward the door. Samantha had already walked down the hall to her own dorm for “a breath of solitude” and left the men to themselves.

 

Galvin saluted straight and stiff. The Commander saluted back in a most friendly demeanor, swung his feet swiftly onto the floor, and said, “You are finally here. We have been searching the globe for you.”

 

Galvin looked at the empty leather chair and then up again at the Commander, searching for some hint of permission, to sit, from his superior. By this point he should have already guessed or known that he is stationed in a much more casual environment than that; the standard of rigorous and contrived behavior in these sorts of scenes isn’t necessarily entertained here particularly. 

 

“Before I respond, Sir, may I sit?” he said, sticking to the script.

 

“Of course, sit down. It is time for some chitchat.”

 

Galvin sat and cupped his palms over his kneecaps with his elbows sticking out a tad winged, eyeballing the Commander with nuanced fear, wonder, and intrigue. When he was fully adjusted to the chair, the Commander said, “What is it you were going to say?”

 

“Well, about what you mentioned, how you have been ‘searching the globe’ for me. You all keep on telling me that. Like I’m important or something. Commander, I am nothing very special. Just a person trying to busy myself while alive in this maelstrom we dwell. What is with the implication though— of my importance?”

 

The Commander took a piece of bubblegum from his desk drawer, unwrapped it and popped it in his mouth. He began to chew, softening the substance, and finally said, “Well, to put it simply, Vinny, you belong here. Can I call you Vinny? Okay good. Anyhow, it is destiny’s way of saying that you are on the path that you are meant to take. Hail to those who become involved in the divine design! To travel space, for you there will be no mistake. Out there, you will find what it is your soul truly yearns for… Would you like some gum?”

 

“No thank you,” Galvin said, and then, after carefully catching his thoughts, went on, “The words you use, the tone of your voice… It is all very familiar to me; unmistakably similar to language that lingers in my own mind. There is something wonderful about it. And weird.”

 

“Yes, I know. And you will eventually see why too. We have made these observations long ago, you see, since the dawn of man, but no one has ever had the capacity to recognize such phenomena and further communicate what is faintly figured.” Zen said and paused. He seemed a little distraught.

 

“Enough hieroglyphs!” he subtly erupted. “We should get to the mission now. Topics like what we are currently engaged in can prove an endless task. That is why we must focus our wits on the more mundane, you know, to quell the brain and find that quiet place.”

 

“Yes Sir, I am open ears to hear what you have brought me here for.”

 

Commander Zentrik commenced to open another drawer. The larger, lower drawer of the desk. He used a small key and opened it. There was a bunch of documents that he quickly ran through with his graceful, dexterous fingers. He came to Galvin’s portfolio and with eager eyes slipped the mustard-colored pack out and onto the desk. 

 

He grabbed his spectacles and put them on. Although to call them goggles would be more appropriate. They seriously looked as if they were for the purpose of fighting a sandstorm. They were made by the Robot Doctor (whose abilities are endless) of LS6000. Zentrik blew a big bubble, pop, and mumbled the following few things aloud.

 

“It says here your father was a pilot of planes, and that you learned how to fly them before you even reached double digits in age— Amazing! No wonder you became such a specialist in spacecrafts; your influence was always there from the start.”

 

“Indeed, Sir, but have you really happened to overlook the pages regarding my birth? The details there, I assure you, will no doubt triumph to further enhance your opinions on the matter of my prodigious portfolio,” Galvin said, thinking rather highly of himself. Well, highly enough to self-proclaim himself a prodigy. After he retrieved his breath, he swallowed his saliva soundlessly, but you could still see how he gulped at it a little bit.

 

The Commander followed his fingers flapping fast back through the sheets. He read a little, shot his eyes to Vinny, and chirped like one of those dainty birds who scores some bread on a restaurant patio, “You were actually born in space?!— Specifically during the discovery of Black Hole Horizon aboard the 67th Odyssey ship of none other than the famous Zip Zapper?!” He paused to gasp in amazement, jaws agape. The bubblegum fell from his mouth. After a frozen moment, he snapped to his senses and picked the gum up off his lap, threw it back in, and continued chewing.

 

Galvin was patiently waiting for the shock to settle. He elaborated thus, “Indeed, I was born among the stars, Sir, and I hold no hesitation to revisit my origins thither, on this opportunity, before I wither, which would thereby render me unfit for this outfit. I do not have time to waste. We shall chase the nameless nectar, as the bright angels glide about and chant us through the universe. We are invited into soft melodies of ether and mesmerizing rhymes of the divine.”

 

“Supremely sublime, son— Supremely sublime!

 

“Now to finally detail your mission. And I will try to be concise, for both our sakes. If you have questions later, feel free to ask our lovely Samantha or perhaps try Kali Robot. Anyways, there is this man named Cardamax. Well, to call him a man is hardly fair. He is quite literally a savage vampire. His embryo was constructed by the constellations and anointed with immortality. He has been harvesting the warm blood of our species since the great dawn of awakening. An unruly parasite. He currently dwells in a tent on planet 12 in the dancing desert of the stellar realm.”

 

“So then what is to be done, Commander?” It should be noted that the way Galvin speaks is by no means a summary of his character. He has learned to be contrived due to certain circumstances. He is a very fine soldier. However, on the inside, beneath the flexible film of his soul’s skin, he was struck with a hollow magic that made his stomach flutter and his brains bubble. He never thought he would hear of a vagabond vampire camping on the surface of another world.

 

Zentrik popped a big bubble, then said, “Guess. It’s easy.”

 

“Yessir, you wish for me to exterminate him somehow.”

 

 

CHAPTER 6- ASPARAGUS

 

It was nearly supper. Galvin was seated in one of those awkward chairs in the Pantry, awaiting the presence of his fellow cosmonauts. Commander Zentrik had dismissed him from the office and suggested getting familiarized with his future family. The buffet was in the warming trays. Galvin hadn’t even lifted the coverings off any of the dishes to see what they were. He had no appetite and the idea of food alone made him nauseous. He didn’t like to eat when conducting business. He believes it to be a distraction. Instead, he got a bottle of water and sipped on that while reading through his notepad.

 

He heard a clatter and a chatter erupt from down the halls. As the noise got closer, you could begin to make out the different voices and some of the words. A baritone was in the middle of saying, “Many moons and we are finally in tune.” It sounded as if this man probably had a heavy smoking habit. He himself also sounded to be a heavy man, a big man, and a bit of a beast.

 

The crew entered the Pantry, all tired and hungry as hell. They went straight to the serving table without giving Galvin the least hint of attention. On the contrary, Galvin was intently observing their behaviors. The first person to enter was the Smoker. He could tell. And he had begun assigning nicknames because both Zen and Sam seemed pretty fond of them. So why not? Galvin adopted a casual attitude, ready to commingle and converse with his companions.

 

The Smoker served himself a hefty plate of sweet potatoes seasoned with honey and cinnamon. He lifted the peppered asparagus with tongs and placed it on his plate. He picked the best loaf of sourdough available, being the first person there to choose, which he buttered well. When he turned away from the buffet, he saw Galvin and approached the table gesturing as to whether he was welcome to join. Galvin nodded nonchalantly and said hello.

 

Of course the man reeked of stale tobacco. It went as far as to completely mask the smell of the delicious dinner. The aroma rose like screaming cells into Galvin’s nostrils. Furthermore, a cigarette was there dangling from a gold ring in one of his ears. It swayed like a playground swing with every motion of his scarred and spikey-haired head. His appearance filled Galvin with dread.

 

As the line of crewmates were serving themselves to their stomachs’ delight, the Smoker sat and smiled a hungry smile with crooked teeth. “Done took ya long enough to get here, mate!” he said and then commenced to shovel food into his face very much like a pirate bastard or a primate. 

 

The table began to crowd with the fated, swarming crew. Each one of the men beamed brightly with their own special kind of blood, brimming and overflowing their brains and staining their beige. The same blood that Cardamax was provided, Galvin thought, timelessly immortal from the rare regions of creation and its love unearthed. There is a reason why humans are so dynamic. Because we are home to infinite ghosts. He jotted this into his diary.

 

There were only five options at the buffet; and one of those not yet mentioned was steak. Only half the crewmates’ plates had steak on it. Which means the other half were probably honorable vegetarians, like Galvin himself. And Galvin could see as soon as everyone who plated the steaks made their first cut into them that they were all prepared red and rare. Blood being drained. The image of blood was more pronounced than the mere idea and therefore resulted in upsetting his stomach; and not just his stomach but his overall spirit and psyche inclusive. He considered how Cardamax might desire to thrive off of such a substance, let alone his crewmates.

 

The crew was comprised of some interesting folks. Take Rambler for example. He goes on and on of a princess he pursued on the north shore of Nantucket when he engaged himself as a merchant sailor. This was long ago. He was staying at an inn and she appeared to him seemingly out of the cold, whispering wind. It was a spark of love at first sight, he said, and he is sick with regret, never took the chance to kiss the fair maiden, although she herself dearly wished he would. He hopes she remembers him well, as he remembers her.

 

“I am simply a dumb idiot. She was so gorgeous that it made me want to weep. And evermore forward I will also worship the memory and pretend something actually happened there,” he said, waving his knife around like the conductor of a slaughterhouse opera.

 

“Well, why don’t you track her down, if you think you had the chance, instead of shooting into another space voyage?” asked the person sitting by his side.

 

“I have lost interest in chasing my phantoms, Ned,” the Rambler said. “That’s it. Ain’t a valid reason to it. Nothing worthwhile is brought about in any bit of existence. We are stuck in a vacuum that corrupts our ability to enjoy life. With or without her I am a trifle.”

 

Ned was a nerd, a nervous guy, but incredibly intelligent. He wore small, circular glasses that shimmered orange with the sunset thru the big window. He was clean cut with a thick and shining blonde mullet, just a hint of stubble painted shadowy on his face. He is the one who wires the whole ship, robots and everything. He is also the inventor of every bot currently serving on LS6000. He can confidently call it his home there. He’s known Sam and Zen for a long time.

 

Speaking of whom, a poodle came prancing into the Pantry. It hopped hyper on its hindlegs and bounced off the walls. It made it a thing to give one quick lick to every man present. Then, all of a sudden, Samantha slid swiftly into the doorframe on the marble floors with her socks. She was wearing woolen socks now, since it was getting dark and cool, and she had set the ridiculous headdress aside. Her hair was short like a boy’s, having shaved it bald a few months ago. For what purpose, I don’t know. But she sure makes a beautiful brunette nonetheless; properly alluring I must confess, with a tight body and a wildcat persona. She clapped her hands together and strutted into centerstage of the perilous pink pantry.

 

The men swiveled around in their egg-shaped chairs to behold the captivating, coy nature of this lady with their own eyes. Galvin’s notepad was sitting in front of him, open on the table, and so he picked up his pencil and sketched. He is no professional, by any means, but let him be. If you can enjoy what it is you do, don’t let anyone stop you. He sketched the scene for the memory. Portraits on pocketbook pages are a personal pleasure.

 

“Alrighty boys, if I may intrude,” was Sam’s interlude. “Don’t worry though, you may keep eating your food. I just have a small speech to give to you,” she said as she simultaneously scanned the faces in the room, gathering the cosmonauts’ characteristics on pure intuition, wondering whether they welcomed Galvin as much as she had.

 

“Allow me to introduce your captain, if you haven’t met him already. His name Is Galvin. Or you can call him Vinny. Give him your highest respects. He will pass the test. I, Samantha Beans, as Leader and Overseer of this facility, would like for you boys to explain the events you saw on the holograph, remember? Tell him your stories until your eyes eventually shut, and you are launched into oblivion of deep sleep. Bedtime stories. The actual hologram will be available for your viewing tomorrow, Vinny… Good night, prominent peoples of earth’s expansion! I am going to light my special candle and pray that soon is the day we eliminate our prey.”

 

 

CHAPTER 7- BEDTIME STORIES

 

“Samantha and the Commander recently came upon a holographic transmission from afar in the galaxies,” one of the men said, whom Galvin had not yet met. They lay in their beds. There was a light-hearted youth in the man’s voice. The manner that he spoke was very inviting. He was speaking loud enough for every member of the crew to hear. There was also an eerie echo, like that of a phantom mimic prowling for evening spooks.

 

“Aye, capturing a most vile creature at that,” joined another, a few beds down from where Galvin began to doze, making it harder for him to hear. He was able to make out this last bit of dialogue before he fell asleep. “He sucks the juices from the planet’s fruits feverishly enough to make you sick to your stomach. And his appearance does no good in the matter either. He is a slimy skeleton with disgusting hair that reaches the floor and trails behind him in the pale sand, acting as a kind of cloak to cover his nudity. And yet the sand is no match for his own pale, ghostly complexion. He spends most his hours worshipping a little wooden shrine and glaring to the cosmos with crimson eyes aglow. We have histories about him in the library here on LS6000. You should skim thru them to get a better idea of what’s going on. We can only tell you so much...”

 

Silence sliced the story asunder to be continued in the morn. The men tossed and turned in their beds and eventually all were breathing deeply or snoring in their slumber.

 

 

CHAPTER 8- BRAINWAVES

 

It was dawn. Wanda, the prancing poodle, was wandering around the bedchamber and as soon as the first hint of light was made visibly pouring into the sky-window, she yelped three times, like a rooster would crow, or an alarm clock might rattle. The crew stretched the stiffness of sleep away and rubbed their eyes. Wanda jumped onto their beds, one by one, and licked their faces with hyperactive speed.

 

This time was set aside for meditation. Galvin asked who was the one talking last night and also if he could be guided to the library to view the epics and gather the available information, so he could have an understanding of this Cardamax character before being shown the holograph. An hour spent studying to freshen the brainwaves for the busy day to come sounded like a decent plan.

 

The crew sounded primarily like an intellectual crowd. It was nice for Galvin to have decent dialogue coming along with those he will be living with for God knows how long. He could be confident in not only his work but his social company, always a valued resource. When those long hours, days, and weeks and years even send him soaring thru empty skies, he is happy he can rely on those he is surrounded by to break a bit of bread and talk to.

 

The man speaking last night came to him with a soldier salute and said like a soldier too, “It was me, Sir. My name is Dane. The library is this way.” He set forth the path and Galvin followed.

 

There were signs posted at each fork in the corridor, labeled arrows pointing toward the different sectors. They came to an elevator and stairs. An arrow was pointing upward and they took the stairs. A few more turns and they came to the great maple doors of the library. There was a face engraved in the wood on the door, and it was so disfigured and abstract that it looked like a despairing hermit condemned in his lonely crisis of delusion.