Harlan Ray dismissed modern culture as “a lot of gay shit” and longed for everyone to agree.
“You faggots ever heard of Buster Keaton,” he’d scream. “Son of a bitch wasn’t human, he was a refugee from the planet Krypton. Christ, everybody these days thinks they’re a genius when Hollywood should come with a disclaimer: Only Superhumans need apply!”
Continue readingNo-one can explain the expansive nothingness of flying through space; it makes you wonder if movement is an illusion hurtling through the flat darkness – everything looking the same as though you were stood still.
Our hero, our returner, Frank 4000, had been enduring this journey for six months. His automated system forged towards his pinpointed base on Earth; that beautiful, colourful, noisy, all-consuming, wondrous place that we take for granted. His slick, silver shell yearned to feel the heat of a human hand once again and his giant eye wished to devour something other than the same stagnant view he’d experienced for so long.
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These two had been at school together and never roamed far beyond the town. They were content and deeply appreciated the familiarity and depth of one another’s friendship. It was unusual, therefore, to watch them fizzing like a herd of ants imitating a headless chicken. I’m no eavesdropper but I couldn’t help overhearing…
‘You mean you nicked it?’
‘I did, yeah. You have a problem with that?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, yes, I do have several problems with that. And the first is that you forgot to tell me about it.’
‘ Well, sorry about that, mate, but it’s something that’s been bothering me for a while. 30 years at least. It’s an old score I had to settle. You should be glad I still care about honour and dignity.’
‘Go on then. How did you do it?’
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