Toy Planets Page 5

  Chapter 5

  Since Latome’s advancements in his universe, his life had changed and other kids at school looked at him, some even talked to him. This was something that Latome had obsessed to obtain: to be accepted, to be recognized, to escape from his father’s suffocating failures. But there was a cost which Latome could not forget.

  "Hey Latome."

  Latome recognized the voice to be Frecarei’s and turned to meet him, his hands raised to his face to prevent whatever attack was to come. But when he turned there was nothing; a short laugh from Frecarei and his friends, but no attack.

  "Father says he’s proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far. He said you have erased several years of shame from our family and that you may be different, you might be worthy of our family."

  Frecarei’s friends smiled and shook their heads at Latome.

  "He said that about me?"

  "Yes, I told you I could make you important. Remember?"

  "Yes Frecarei, thank you for what you’ve done for me. I understand now what must be done."

  "Huh?"

  "Nothing. Just something with my universe."

  "What are you doing tonight?" said Frecarei.

  "Just doing. . ."

  "Oh ok, There’s a race tonight and father has invited you."

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you. We’ll pick you up later tonight."

  ...

  Later that day, before Frecarei had arrived, Latome went to his cube and leaned inside the door. His focus was that of the small, blue planet. Explosions with immense smoke clouds billowed from the surface of the distraught planet.

  Latome turned and took a small device from the shelf behind him. He pointed the tool at the newer planet and squeezed a small lever. At that instant, life on that planet ceased; their lives taken by their creator. Latome sent the dead planet, in violent revolutions, away from its orbit and into darkness. Killing these creatures was not easy, as they had only done what was asked of them, yet their purpose was complete.

  Latome returned to his room and stared at the T3 Blackhawk command ship sitting on his desk. After a few moments he sat down, wrote a letter, and placed it next to the craft. With that complete, Latome walked around his room and placed several items into a black bag and, when full, placed it next to the craft and letter. For hours he looked between the things on his desk and the rest of his room.

  He remained in thought until the sound of Frecarei’s privileged feet could be heard slapping their way to his room. Latome stood and grabbed the black bag from his desk and waited for Frecarei to reach his room.

  "Latome? Father is ready, I wouldn’t make him wait. He’s already a little on edge from his decision to allow you to join us tonight."

  Frecarei opened the door to Latome’s room but saw no one. On Latome’s desk sat the T3 Blackhawk command ship and a short letter beside it:

  Frecarei, I have forgot something last moment, I will be ready downstairs in no time at all. Would you lend your expertise once more, and place the craft, next to this letter, into my universe? Your father will be so proud once he learns how much you’ve helped me to further my universe, and my life altogether.

  Latome

  Frecarei smiled and took the craft to the corner of Latome’s cube and released it inside. Without direction, the craft propelled forward into the universe.

  Cube in stage one of seal process.

  The voice, at first, froze Frecarei where he stood, but even he knew to leave the cube. Outside of the cube, Frecarei could hear the process continue as the door closed and sealed in front of him.

  A large smile wrapped Frecarei’s face as he ran out of Latome’s room, and down to meet his father.

  "Father, Father, you’ll never guess what Latome has done. He made an error in his program and his universe has sealed."

  "What do you mean? What has he done?"

  "There was a letter and he asked me to put a craft into the universe. Once I had, the process began. That was it."

  "Where is Latome?"

  "He said he would be down soon."

  "You spoke with him?"

  "Yes. Well, it was in the letter he wrote to ask for my expertise once more, Father."

  "He is gone. Just as his father! Despicable."

  "He said he would be right—"

  "He is not coming back, son. He has gone with his universe, just as his father did. Cowards. They run from their problems here to help others with their problems, and it’s disgusting."

  "So Latome is-"

  "Latome is gone. He deserves no more of our time. Let us go, or we’ll be late for the race."

  ...

  Three months later, with the help of seven wormholes, Latome arrived at his destination. The blue planet was dusting itself off and resuming its former rotation around its sun. Now, Latome’s sun.

  Latome’s arrival came with no praise, or excitement. Though every inhabitant knew of his arrival, none had welcomed it.

  For three days, Latome could find no one. Not one alien to hear of his journey, or what brought it about. Not one alien to hear of his sacrifice.

  On the fourth day the military moved their battle lines closer to Latome, and claimed two nearby hills. This was the first time Latome could see, from a distance, the aliens. Despite the military’s efforts, aliens from all directions encroached on the stealthy craft, and the lone alien beside it.

  The question on everyone’s mind, "why hasn’t it attacked us yet?"

  "It’s weak, has to be."

  "Now is our chance."

  "Just blow the whole damn thing up."

  But they did none of these. They waited, and so too did Latome.

  The crowd grew, and the chants became louder. Grand fires sprouted at nighttime, illuminating the lonely alien.

  On the sixth morning, Latome woke violently as another rock landed in front of him and bounced into his craft. The first one, the one that smacked him in the face, lay on the ground before him, half-smeared with blood. More rocks began to pepper the dry dirt around him. Dizzy from the hit to his face, Latome managed to get inside of his ship. The ship sufficed as a target for a few moments, but soon lost its appeal.

  Inside the craft, Latome searched through his bag and pulled a small syringe out. It was clear, with a red glob near the back. He pressed a button on the syringe and a tiny creature shot from the red mass, into the releasing tube.

  You ready little guy?

  Latome pressed the tip through his skin where the rock had hit. The creature, recognizing the sweet smell of damaged flesh, worked its way through the tube and into Latome’s skin. Latome sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. An occasional rock striking the craft kept his alert. His forehead, writhing and wiggling, began to heal.

  The random taunts and screams coming from outside the craft subsided to only one tone. A mother crying for her son; his limp body supported by her dusty hands.

  Seven year old Jimmy Talcolm entered the clouds of dirt in hopes of recovering some good throwing rocks. He was enveloped, and rocks poured on his fragile body. As the dust cleared his lifeless body came into view. A mangled clump of meat, with clothes.

  Jimmy’s mother held him tight and pleaded for others to help, but no one would move closer to the black craft. She hunched over her son’s body and mixed, drop by drop, her tears into his warm, flowing blood. The crowd began to move farther away. When the woman turned, Latome stood before her. In his hand, a small syringe.

  "Take me too. Please, take me too."

  Latome lowered the syringe to a large cut on the boy’s face; a red line shot through the tube and into jimmy’s face.

  "For you."

  "Wait, what have you done! Take me!"

  A force on her finger distracted her, and it was growing. A tiny hand clasped to her finger.

  "Baby?"

  "What mom?"

  Jimmy stood to his feet and emptied his pockets of several sharp rocks.

  The crowd, silent at first, began yelli
ng and chanting for the alien, and his magic. Without apprehension, the confused mother ran to Latome and pulled him close to her body.

  Small groups of people began to move closer to the craft and Latome. Still unsure, they moved in sporadic succession. The circle surrounding Latome closed tighter.

  When Latome began to speak, there was no other sound. They listened, and they believed.

  Latome’s vast knowledge in science changed the planet irrevocably. For every question, Latome had an answer. As the years passed, the aliens celebrated Latome for his mind, his technology, and his patience. His contributions to the lonely planet were endless.

  With Latome secured inside of the planet, evolution would again take hold, and cycles allowed to cycle.

  Life will no doubt appear elsewhere as the universe ages, and they will grow unhampered and without an omniscient eye. Weeds left unchecked will flourish to massive trees, and with time these giants will collide.

  Latome did live long enough to see the first communication with a different planet. It appeared he had only been living to assure such a thing: he died the following day.