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Priorities; BERMUDA

by Lawrence Finlayson 8 months ago in Short Story
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Blasar Incorporated


For the moment Justin would be patient. There was much about the outside world he knew very little about, but what he did know was entertainment. He knew how to sing, dance, and love life, and he knew how to enhance enjoyment, which was how he got to his success in life. Here he was nearly thirty, and there was no one woman he wanted, he liked traits of this, characteristics of that, but what he wanted was the whole complete package.

There were more than enough women throwing themselves at him, but very few that actually understood the complexities of the business, to them it was all power and boasts, but that was merely the goal… what he wanted was a woman who understood creativity from its infancy to its pride.

Approval he had. He had accomplished more in his youth than many had in their entire lives, now it seemed to be his time to inspire. He often dreamed there was a company that understood all these complexities, not the usual shallow people there just to say what he wanted to hear, not to say it was not nice… It was just that sometimes he wanted truth, and not just from his parents.

He was one of the lucky kids who was never pressured by either parent, they were simply good examples with no justification or expectations needed, and it had nurtured in him a deep sense of self-esteem and self-satisfaction.

But, something was missing from his life. Why else was he remembering his best imaginary friend from his childhood that he called Asterick? Back in Grade school he used to get into so much trouble skipping out of class to escape to the local pond and capture toads and building them a swim area in mud and mush before the councilor found him and the ensuing lectures.

What would Ast say of all this success? Just the thought of his space-buddy made him smile slyly… It was amazing, that even after all these years he still felt that sense of playful competition. It took a few counseling sessions to change his competitive spirit away from one-upping Asterick to more practical successes.

Who knows, maybe Asterick was somewhere out there still making trouble for himself, but for the time being, Justin was back in his Los Angeles home and Canada and the sense of imaginary friends was far away… for now.


Aquarius Verenium was first and foremost Quasart, and no amount of revolutions around the sun or the planet Earth would change that. BERMUDA was his intergalactic ship and no Epsiton would take that from him. Epsiton in his astral deliria had tried and failed, and luckily for his health, Asterick had not picked up the reigns of his father’s pursuits.

The root of insecurity had not taken hold of Asterick like it had in Epsiton, and according to the intergalactic opinion poll, 8 of 12 systems would welcome him if given the chance, which was very rare for a silicate-carbon hybrid.

Yes, BERMUDA was good at what she did, collecting and categorizing these emotions which were as meaning to these humans. There was no supercomputer here to indicate what people did. It was merely a messy conglomerate, like all three of the Tri-planets in one, very confusing without proper interpretation.

The Intergalactic Association of Civilizations had stumbled upon the humans in a little known astral plane outside of common time. In effect, they, the humans, existed, but didn’t at the same time. Indeed, they lived in a state of slowed atomic decay with consciousness. It all seemed very randomly predetermined.

The electromagnetic field of the planet kept the humans in a state of temporal grid-lock, success and progression must certainly be inherently difficult. Some days as he watched them through the reverse-Cathode Ray Tube displays he wondered how they would react to outside influences. Panic no doubt would befall their primitive minds always keen to loss.

Aquarius’ life was simple here, keep an eye on the astral planes of the after world from the BERMUDA, and protect sentient alien species that happened to make it through the temporal grid lock which separated the humans from the Multiverse.

In his fifty odd years of chief commander of emotional collection, the only person who had ever stirred his cold countenance was Epsiton. Epsiton who saw visions, Epsiton who saw the future, Epsiton of the Astral Plane. It was not a difficult decision to toss his soul into the local Solarian blackhole…it did help them understand what martyrs were… and why only the planet Earth had so many versions of spirituality- it was all about empowerment. Things changed quickly.

The fact that the Blackhole had exploded with light for several days had delighted every entertainment opinion poll from Andromeda to Magellan. They seemed to be waiting for the next display of such celestial light.

A local mothership had noted one piece of debris escaping the pull of the blackhole, it was merely noted in the logs and somewhere someone would write a poem about it…

There was something about it that made him follow it… the way it sped towards the planet Earth, the way it managed to make it through the atmospheric temporal grid lock system, and the way it crash landed near a small town in Saskatchewan.

Short Story

About the author

Lawrence Finlayson

I started writing at 11. Finished Highschool at 20, still an undergrad at 40, Major Indigenous Studies, Minor Indian Art History; spent much time in the Mining Trade Sector and Community Recreation Sector.

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