First off, his credit card had been sliced into four pieces after taking a trip through the inner workings of a hydraulic subway door, meaning he couldn’t buy, rent or loan for ten days while the bank techies figured things out on their end.
Secondly, some jerkwad had decided that all space pilot trainees needed to complete a round trip to and from Saturn on public transport. What the hey was that supposed to be for?
Thirdly, Paul hated Saturn. Every since he had been old enough to distinguish it from the other seven planets, Paul had loathed that great ringed planet. There was no reason for it, no rational explanation, but the fact remained as solid and unmovable as stale limburger cheese on a kitchen countertop: Paul hated Saturn.
The way things were turning out though, he would be saved from taking the trip, though it would cost him his pilot’s license. Even if he managed to get the ticket to Saturn, it would take the transport ship three days to load up and launch, by then, the deadline for the trip would be up, and Paul would be license-less. After that, there would be no other choice but another four years of work and study he’d already done, and another fifteen grand from a credit card that didn’t work.
Needless to say, Paul was not in a good mood.
“Triple-dang it!” he shouted, kicking a cleaner bot out of his path. “Fudge it to the Moon and back! Quadruple crap!”
If anyone had been within three feet of him that morning, it wouldn’t have been a pretty sight. Luckily, nobody seemed to out and about at that time and place, so Paul had the streets to himself…and the strange bearded man.
For a second after recognizing the existence of the bearded man, Paul was silent. The bearded man spoke first.
“What appears to be the quandary?” the bearded man asked Paul.
Paul studied him for a few seconds, thinking of how lovely it would be to grasp the wispy, stringy beard firmly in two hands and pull with all his might. He couldn’t do it, though, mostly because he couldn’t afford the inevitable fines such an action would incur, but also because the beard looked too frail to afford a nice hard tug.
“Why are you so disconcerted?” the bearded man continued, trying hard not to notice the direction of Paul’s stare.
“I’ll tell you why I’m upset!” Paul screamed suddenly, cartwheeling his arms in the air.
Within a very short time, Paul managed to get half his vocabulary (and not the nice half, either) and a pint of his spit into the bearded man’s ears and beard. The street was surprisingly quiet before, but now it resounded with the screams and shrieks that seemed to fly from Paul’s lips like loose birds.
“…and that’s why I can’t get on the fudging ship to go to a fudging pebble in the sky that I don’t give a doorknob about!”
“Well, then,” the bearded man said uneasily, wiping spit form his scraggly beard. “You’ve come to the correct establishment!”
“I have?” Paul asked, most surprised.
“Of course! I sell all sorts of things!” the bearded man replied, trundling backwards into a door. “Come on in and see my selections!”
“But I told you my credit coin was busted,” Paul explained. “I can’t buy a thing!”
“Yes, but you can barter,” the bearded man said. “And that’s an absolutely exquisite-looking tie clasp you have in your possession!”
“It was a present from my mother,” Paul mumbled, fumbling the red-and-gold clasp.
“It’ll do.” The bearded man said, snapping it off his shirt.
Paul didn’t wear a tie, so the clasp was attached to his shirt with rubber bands. It made a snapping sound as it went, leaving a red welt on Paul’s yellow chest.
Paul followed the man through the door and into a warehouse of goods. From the looks of it, half of the worker bots there were packing a mysterious blue powder into suitcases, while the other half worked to install false bottoms on the suitcases and fill them with clothes. The bearded man walked into a tiny room and found a small dusty box. It was labeled, “TRIP TO SATURN!!” in bold green letters. Beneath that, there was a picture of some cows and ballerinas flying through a sea of phlegm.
“This,” the bearded man said, opening the rusty box. “Is the latest innovation in spatial displacement.”
Inside the box were three gleaming pills, one red, one blue, and one neon pink.
“The pink one’s for you,” the bearded man said, popping it out of the clear plastic case and putting in Paul’s open palm. “To use it, you must ingest it in an area entirely devoid of spectators.”
“Why?” Paul asked curiously.
“So…so that no one knows about your trip!” the bearded man replied cheerily. “You see, this technology is so modern it isn’t even patented yet. This must be clandestine information, are we understood?”
“Of…course,” Paul replied dazedly, staring into the depths of the neon pink.
“Good!” the bearded man said, shoving Paul towards the door. “You must forgive me, I have a few other…customers to deal with.”
On the way back to his hotel room, Paul fingered the pink pill carefully. How could such a tiny thing take him to Saturn and back? Close inspection of the pill revealed tiny red words on one end: “Swallow with liquid.” And on the other: “Made in Central Mars.”
Well, it couldn’t be that bad if it was made in Mars, right? Just the same, Paul decided to visit the bearded man again. There, he would get some answers to questions that he hadn’t thought to ask before.
Quickly, Paul dashed back down the sidewalk to the street where he’d met the bearded man. Surprisingly, he was occupied with a few policemen. The hover cars with flashing blue and red lights made for quite a nice light show, but Paul couldn’t stop and stare.
People with white gloves were taking pictures and putting shards of glass into plastic bags. Paul watched them for a few seasons, then stepped forward to the yellow tape.
“Stay behind the yellow barrier!” the blue police bot cautioned. “This is a crime scene.”
“But I need to talk to the bearded man!” Paul shouted back.
“Stay behind the yellow barrier!”
Paul sighed and walked away, giving one last disconsolate look the bearded man, who seem to be having a hearty and warm handshake with a pair of handcuffs. Perhaps when he was less occupied with his policemen friends Paul could return.
Paul stopped at a public swimming pool to think about his decisions. He could go on and eat the pill, take the stupid trip to Saturn, and be back without a hitch. On the other hand, he could wait until the bearded man was free, although he risked losing his license that way.
Within seconds of careful thought, Paul made his choice: he would take the pill.
Paul scooped up a handful of water from the swimming pool and put the pill on the tip of his tongue. It burned like acid for a few minutes, then melted into his mouth with all speed. It seemed as though he had already taken the pill, but Paul swallowed the chlorine-water just in case.
Then he sat on the bench and waited for his trip to Saturn to begin.
It seemed as though the minutes had stood still for Paul, or maybe everything had rushed by him, centuries at a time. Nevertheless, soon it became clear that his trip had started.
The bench he was sitting on began to vibrate, then unfold around him. It slipped down into the swimming pool. It looked faintly yellow down below, and it bubbled it’s way forward, the submarine lights glaring out in all directions. Finally, it rose, glistening in the light of the moon. Scales popped up wherever the water ran off, and the bench stretched out until it was longer than the pool. Finally, the bench came to a rest before Paul, the middle and front parts resembling a magna-train.
“All aboard!” an invisible voice called out from the front of the train. “All passengers bound for Saturn must board at once!”
“That’s me!” Paul shouted, stumbling to his feet. “Mine!”
He tumbled into a plush purple-and-yellow-polka-dot chair and sat down, waiting for the train to start. Before it did, however, a head pushed itself out of the front window, locking its green eyes on Paul.
“Welcome to the Saturn Express!” the head said delightfully. “I’m your pilot, S. Pepper!”
“Thanks, Sergeant!” Paul replied, giving the head a thumbs-up.
The train lurched forward on ruby wheels, splashing down into the pool and then up again towards the sky. Clouds flew by like giant splashes of color, each cloud a different hue. Paul counted eight clouds as they chirped and swung past his window. Down below, Earth receding from sight until it was only a tiny blue gem. At the next cloud, the train stopped and opened its door.
“First stop,” S. Pepper announced through his mustache. “Cloud Nine for tea with the Octopus.”
Sure enough, there was an Octopus sitting on the cloud’s surface, his tentacles gently draped around an owl and cat. Between the three a giant teapot stood, far too enormous for any of them to move, let alone pour.
Paul got out of the train and stepped onto cloud, finding it strong and supportive under his size-fifteen shoes. He walked forward unsteadily, then held out his hands to the Octopus.
“Hi, I’m Paul!” he said. “Are you the Octopus?”
The Octopus shook both his hands with all eight arms, and then nodded its bulbous head solemnly. Paul grinned widely and sat down, finding a cloud-chair materializing beneath him. He waved to the cat and the owl, then hummed a few bars of Pop goes the Weasel.
The Octopus grasped the teapot handle with all its tentacles and lifted the monstrosity into the air. It seemed as though he could never get the massive thing to tip and pour normally, but manage it he did. He poured out the steamy blue tea into thumb-sized cups, one for the cat, one for the owl, and four for Paul. In no time at all, Paul’s head was swimming from the steam of the tea, and he sat back on his cloud recliner, patting his belly and shaking his head.
“All aboard!” S. Pepper shouted, pulling a whistle cord in the train cabin. “Time to go!”
Paul lurched back to his purple chair, waving back to his buddies as he went. He cried as the train rose up and above the clouds, convinced he would never see his new friends again.
The train swung in and out black holes, time sphincters and past flying houses. Time and time again Paul saw an epic battle played out before him, always resulting in the same result before they skipped back in time to before the battle. The pilot explained to Paul that they were stuck in a paradoxical circle for a few minutes, but that it wouldn’t take a minute to get out again.
Paul didn’t care; he liked seeing the battle, the neon green ships laced with Plattnerite pummeling the frail Enterprise shuttles. Finally though, the time loop closed and sent them rocketing along an event horizon at the speed of light.
Einstein was there. Paul waved.
Finally, the train slowed and Paul looked out happily, hoping for another tea-break. Instead, he saw dead empty space. The stars glistened like diamonds in the sky.
S. Pepper leaned out of the window and Paul saw him wave his hands.
“We’re here to meet a friend of mine,” S. Pepper explained, waving some more. “She’ll be here any minute.”
Paul looked out all the other windows, but he saw nobody. Just as he was about to get bored with waiting, a small white shape slowly twisted towards them. Paul stared at it until it became a beautiful girl. Her hair floated in space as though each follicle was a living snake. Her lips were almost as vibrant as her hair, which was a brilliant cherry-red. She wore nothing but a fragment of blue sky, ripped as a single piece from the firmament.
S. Pepper leaned out of his window and caught her hands. He kissed her tenderly and murmured something in her ear. She smiled at him and fingered his mustache lovingly.
“Hello, Lucy,” S. Pepper said. “I’m taking a passenger to Saturn.”
“Is there any room for me on board?” Lucy asked, shaking her snake hair.
“Of course,” S. Pepper replied, opening the train doors. “Always and evermore.”
Lucy climbed into the train and sat next to Paul, entrancing him with her beauty. The train started up again and all Paul could do was stare at her blankly, his jaw resting somewhere on the floor.
“Hi,” Lucy said after a while, flashing her cat-green eyes. “I’m Lucy, you’re Paul, right?”
“Umfishugama.” Paul replied, with all the dignity he could muster.
“I just love the way the vacuum of space looks tonight,” Lucy continued. “Don’t you?”
“Uhuh.” Paul said, getting his jaw back up near his head.
“And the stars, they’re so beautiful,” Lucy murmured, swallowing hard. “Like diamonds.”
“Next stop,” S. Pepper shouted back. “Saturn’s ninth ring!”
The train bucked downwards and Paul stomach’s stomach jumped into his brain. Like a bad pun, the train back-flipped and landed upside down on something hard. Outside the train, tiny dust bodies rolled and cavorted over the wheels and windows. Paul stared at the view, albeit a reversed one, and pointed at it. Lucy followed his finger and smiled.
“Yes,” Saturn’s ninth ring,” she said. “I love coming out here after midnight. Goodbye, Paul.”
She put her fingers on the window and watched them pass right through. She pushed her arms out, and then let her body follow. Finally, she stood outside the train, waving at S. Pepper. The dusty ring was solid under her feet, but she didn’t walk on it for long. Instead, she launched herself into the air and hurtled away like a barrel-rolling glimmer of light.
“Final stop just ahead,” S. Pepper said quickly into the microphone. “Saturn.”
Paul pressed his face to the glass and watched the towers and buildings of man’s fifteenth space-colony rise above him. The train stopped near the summit of a small green mountain and Paul got out.
“I guess this is goodbye,” Paul said to S. Pepper. “Goodbye.”
“It’s never goodbye, Paul,” S. Pepper said, pulling on the train whistle cord. “You don’t know what might happen in the future. The road goes ever on!”
Paul nodded and stepped off the mountain. Above him, the train raced off back to the stars like a comet.
“That was the strangest trip I’ve ever taken,” Paul said, stepping over a small yellow river.
But it seemed that it would be his last; Paul slipped and landed in the river. His hands flailed wildly, but the rocks he’d been standing on were suddenly a thousand feet away. His eyes burned as they touched the water, and the acrid taste stung his tongue. It seemed as though the current was forcing him downriver, but try as he might he could not get out of the water.
It rushed him along like a strong hand, pummeling and bashing at him. His lungs especially ached like the dickens. Finally, when he felt like his head would explode, Paul resurfaced, gasping for breath.
His hands sought out blindly and slapped down on cold tile. He grasped this and pulled himself out of the water. For a while, he laid there, coughing and spitting.
Something seemed to have changed. For one, Paul had a hippocampus-splitting headache, and secondly, the colors of Saturn didn’t seem to be so vibrant as before.
Paul got up and looked around him. He was back at the swimming pool where he’d started! The return trip had been much faster than he’d thought it would be!
Paul checked his watch and saw that the deadline for graduation was a mere three hours away.
“Excellent!” he shouted. “I’m gonna make it!”
Paul got up and bolted down the street, clacking his heels and singing Hi-Fiddely-Deeas he ran.
Spoiler! :
) I decided to write a story about Paul. Completely apart from Skins or YWS. Just Paul.
So great job, and KEEP WRITING!
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