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eBook Category: Science Fiction/Humor
eBook Description: Four quirky vignettes that speculate on alien motivations. What do aliens want? What do they really, really want? Do they want to be in control? Are they hungry? Are they searching for an end to all war--or do they just need a deserted beach and a little peace and quiet? In "The Ultimate Test Drive", learn what amphibious visitors think of Lexus cars. In "A Shake", see how college students can help extraterrestrials get what they need. In "Anonymity", take an all-inclusive trip to the quietest place in the universe. In "A Hundred Years of Tranquillity", discover the latest in surveillance techniques.

eBook Publisher: Clocktower Books and Far Sector SFFH (magazine), Published: Far Sector SFFH, 2004
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2004

56 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [125 KB], eReader (PDB) [41 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [30 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [27 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [92 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [101 KB], hiebook (KML) [110 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [85 KB], iSilo (PDB) [24 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [31 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [68 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [44 KB]
Words: 8950
Reading time: 25-35 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"...Okay, here's the scene. There's this guy in a Lexus--

What? No, one of the nice ones, you know, top of the range. Right. So he's driving through town in the rush hour traffic and--

Jeez Louise, a 'guy' is a human, a male, got it? Great. So he's stopping and starting, brake, gas, brake, gas. He's got the radio on some awful fuckin' station too, like it's Country and Western or something. Twang, fiddle, twang, yodel yodel, a boy called Mary, that kind of crap--

Do you want to hear this or what?

Oh, Okay. Sorry, dude, I thought you'd been to Earth before. I'll explain this one last thing, but then no more with the questions and the interrupting, right? You'll have to learn the rest for yourself if you decide to stay. Country and Western is the music they invented around the time they invented cars. In my view, the music should have died out by now but millions of the dummies still listen to it. Hang around too long and you'll hear it, believe me.

Okay, dude, you with me now? Right. So were in traffic, he's singing along to the cowpokes on the radio, the air conditioning is on, the traffic is crawling, and I'm so bored I could cry. But there's something about driving a car, know what I mean? Well, you will as soon as you try it. That's why you're here, right, driving?

Oh, research. Whoopee doo. If you get the chance, go driving, you'll never research again.

All you need is a flight unit with brain-dock upgrade.

No, they're cheap and it'll change your life.

Well, I was so bored I could have emptied the sewage tanks into this guy's head and flown home but instead I decided to take control. That's what you have to do with this particular race; seize power, hold the reins so to speak and show them who's boss. Yeah, you got it. They may be big but they sure as hell are stupid. They don't even know you're there most of the time. As soon as they suspect anything all their friends abandon them, so the chances of getting caught are real slim.

Anyways, imagine the scene; Mr. Straight Guy in his clip on tie and short sleeved, drip-dry, no-iron shirt, on his way to his office cubicle and he's late and there's no let up in the weight of cars on the road.

Then there's me sitting in my flight unit attached to his head but just far enough out of dimensional perspective that the stupid fucker or anyone else can't see me. Still, you can imagine how it would look to them, right? I mean if they could see it. My beautiful interstellar hopper in lucent metallics and plexi-alloy, not much bigger than the head its sitting on--

Don't worry, kid, you will.

--and all shiny grey and gorgeous with a transparent liquid atmosphere inside so yours truly can breathe the pure fluids of home. And if they could see me, they'd see this little amphibious creature with my trademark pink dorsal sperm sac sitting at the control centre pushing the buttons on this guy's mind.

"Hey,' they'd scream, 'That guy's got a parasitic alien helmet on his head!' Fuckin' hilarious if you ask me. I'm tempted to try it just to see the look on their faces. Anyways, your brain-dock looks like an inverted bowl and it sits over the skull of your host nice and comfortable while you make the necessary connections and take the fuck over.

"Make a right!'

I shout to the driver and he swings his arms around the wheel and that whale of a Lexus just starts turning like a fucking tanker and ploughs into the queue of traffic beside us.

The look on the face of the guy in the car we've just crashed into is amazing. I see him reaching for the glove box to get his gun. Yeah, real dangerous while the connection is up. So I yell, 'Floor it asshole!'