The Intangible is a limited literary audio anthology
that explores that corpulent call which we must
all one day pierce. We're happy to have you here,
and even happier to keep you. Care for a chilled
beverage? Please enjoy cracking open a couple
cold ones. The crowd screaming began when we
saw the hands, one from each side, thrice the
dimensions of the colliding bodies. One hand
yanked the moon to the west, the comet was snatched
to the east. Both tipped asunder, and molten
cores poured into unfathomably large, toothy
mars which had appeared. Deep rumbles ensued
like monstrous guffaws, flattening trees, sweeping
people away in its wake. lifting them hundreds
of feet high, then abandoning fleshy bodies to
crash to the earth. Weeks later, they're still
here. At night, the sky is dark now. It's only
a matter of time before they drink us, too. Oh,
no, no, no, no. See, I was just... I wasn't...
All right, fine. You caught me. But listen, there's
infinite universes out there. Nobody's going
to miss just one. It was never Thanksgiving.
Never Christmas that got me. I think because
I could see them coming well ahead of time. Years
ahead if I wanted. They're like an orbiting comet.
You know when to expect them. If you get hit
by one, sure, it'll vaporize you. But they aren't
scary because you always know where they are.
It wasn't the holidays that got me. It's always
those days that come out of nowhere, like an
extinction -level asteroid. One minute, I'm sleeping
like my bed is in a hypergolic chamber. And the
next, I feel like I'm watching what looks like
a comet in the sky grow and grow until its light
is all I see. And I can hear it ripping the air
apart in front of it as it closes in. Then, wham,
I'm extinct. Not extinct. Not really. But I've
watched the world go around for 1 ,128 days.
Staring out through this small window, mostly
alone. I have next to no contact with the world
outside. Most days, I don't think too much about
it. This is my life. Love it or hate it. And
my own choices led me here. No sense in driving
myself crazy over some imagined life I could
be living instead. I haven't seen or talked to
a member of my family since I went away either.
1 ,128 days since I have heard any of their voices.
Felt their arms around me. Heard the words, I
love you. The holidays I can see coming. It's
days like today that are hard. Taken by surprise.
Days when the view from this window looks much
less beautiful. Today is the hardest so far.
This is the smallest my window has felt since
I've been aboard the Scout Class Kestrel Fury.
The most alone. I've felt since I left the surface
1 ,128 days ago. There are daily check -ins,
of course. Weekly discussions with the psych.
Regular meetings with a doctor, a dietician.
The cheerleader. He's a pastor and a life coach,
but I like my name for him. He laughs and refers
to himself that way now, too. And various other
members of the team. business. I've never heard
I love you in a meeting with any of them. No.
Not a comet. We see those coming. It's the asteroids.
Those colossal titans that crash through the
great black vacuum, mistling down at you with
extinction event speed. So fast you never had
a chance to even brace yourself. So fast that
when you heard the call come over the comm, you
barely reached your space window in time to see
the fiery celeste. Just a speck of white -orange
sparkle, the flash of a trace around, but aiming
straight for home. Barely fast enough to bear
witness. Barely fast enough to look away in time
and... Not get yourself blinded. That fast. In
the blink of an eye. In the most literal sense
of that breeze. And there were no more holidays.
We are in extinct. There are still few of us
floating around here. It might last another 7
,300 days. Who knows? Holidays are like comets.
They're just like Earth. Gone. They're all gone
and none of them are ever coming back around.
I sit, crouched and hidden among the black shadows,
peering around the corner. So far, the two of
us have remained peaceful with each other, and
I'm comfortable watching him come and go. without
being fully out of sight. He is much bigger than
I, but not nearly as quick. I've had several
run -ins with his type before, and he doesn't
scare me. They're all the same. Big and powerful,
but clumsy, lumbering and thin -skinned. Also,
he doesn't seem to possess a particularly luminous
level of intelligence. Not stupid, but not bright.
Any one of our kind could easily outclass him
in that department. Every day I watch, and his
routine is the same. He fills his bowl, then
becomes distracted. He wanders off, occupied
by these other matters, and, get this, forgets
to eat. He just leaves his rations lying about,
unguarded and gone to waste. He doesn't come
back for it. nor does he notice when I sneak
in and steal some. I've been here several weeks
now, and it's a wonder how he can survive with
such a degree of complacency. I'm amazed by the
blatant insensibility he displays. Frankly, it
disgusts me. But I do enjoy the perks. So far,
I don't consider him a serious threat. Based
on my observations, he could be dangerous, I
suppose. But he appears unlikely to choose violence.
If he tries, I'll punish him for it. Still, I
remain cautious. I wait for him to leave so I
can steal his food again, but with so little
available cover, I'm nervous about walking into
the wide open. I'd be too exposed. After the
close call yesterday, he almost had me, I confess.
I feel a bit skittish. I suppose, in a way, he
has me trapped here at the moment, but I can
escape at my will. His foolishness has afforded
me numerous opportunities to go without alert.
Once, he leaned himself against the main door
without realizing it was ajar. He stared at his
feet for several moments, unaware of his own
self -induced security breach. Pathetic. Yes,
I miss my old streets, but my curiosity here
has caught hold and kept me. Besides, he's done
nothing to threaten my safety. Except for yesterday.
There was a minor attack, from which I escaped
unharmed. Over his choice of oppression and conflict,
he snuck in as I pilfered the rations he'd left
lying about. He was stealthy, and I didn't notice
him before he was upon me. I usually fight back.
I was prepared to fight back. I always fight
back, but this time was different. I'm disturbed.
and ashamed that I was caught so unprepared,
and I'm ashamed his sorcery worked on me. His
paws are enormous, large enough to wrap all the
way around me, and when he got hold of me, I
froze. The situation worked out, but a life could
have been lost if things had gone differently.
Even today, I struggle to understand what happened.
What went wrong? Once he had me, though, he didn't
attack. Not at first. He held me there for a
moment. It gave me time to think. He's so much
bigger than me, I figured it was best not to
struggle in case it would agitate him. What he
did wasn't violent, but it was surely torture.
He held me down with one hand. and put his other
hand on my neck. Then, when he touched my back,
I was inexplicably paralyzed, unexpectedly captured,
and entirely in repose. I had never been confronted
with such a maneuver, and I cannot accurately
convey the effect it had on me. Everyone knows
how much I sleep. Dare say too much. I love to
sleep. This. was not sleep. It was as if my body
slept, while I remained helpless to its will.
I could hear him speaking in his bizarre language
while he manipulated my neck and back with repeated
motions. I admit this next part not for posterity,
but because I am incapable of anything besides
total upfront honesty. The whole truth. or none
at all, I always say. So yes, I confess, I enjoyed
the sensation, especially when his hand moved
from my neck down my back. I stayed vigilant,
though, watching for the inevitable opportunity,
for my chance to shimmy loose and escape his
clutches with a trick the very instant I could.
I'm still chuckling over how well my deception
worked. As I said, his bizarre trap rendered
me nearly helpless, but after some time, my mobility
began to return and I could move again. Not much
at first, but some. The technique he used must
lose some of its potency after a certain volume
of continued exposure. Although I was yet hindered
to a degree, I mustered my strength, rolled over,
and feigned absolute submission. Presented with
my underbelly, the attacker did not cease inflicting
his torture, but instead ignored my back and
refocused his efforts on the tender front of
my torso. I experienced those effects differently
due to his new angle of attack. It wasn't as
pleasure - unbearable as the first technique.
I felt no need to eliminate this foe, but I needed
to escape. I needed to rest and to ponder how
he shirked my defenses. So, I lulled him into
further complacency with a brief maneuver of
my own. I tolerated this new torment while pretending
I was feeble to convince him I had finally surrendered.
I would never. Then, when I was certain he'd
fallen for my ruse, I planned I would astonish
him. My plan was immaculate, of course. When
his defenses dipped, I saw my opening and snapped
into action. I pounced like one of those feral
calicos from the back alleys, a glorious attack.
I snared his enormous paw and delivered a ferocious
bite to make sure he knew I had got the better
of him. He howled in his native tongue. More
on that in a moment. And my nasty surprise triggered
his nervous system, forcing his knuckles to straighten
and lock just like any other simple rodents would.
Finally, his grip relaxed and he released. I
was quick and seized the moment. slipped free
and retreated to safety. There, I sat and allowed
him to amuse me with his grumbling whimpers and
owls. He won't be trying that maneuver again.
Later, I groomed myself before napping. A last
note, it seems I have learned a word of his language.
As I launched my devious attack yesterday, he
yelled out, Ow, Henry, you stinker! Which I am
now quite certain means, please spare my life.
In his dialect. Pathetic. Yes, hi. I mean, I
apologize for my momentary outburst earlier.
As John Donne once wrote, Any man's death diminishes
me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore
never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It
tolls for thee. Speaking of bells, I believe
I hear one right now. Karen tuned out the second
grade girls on the playground. It only took three
weeks as an elementary school teacher to learn
that ability, and she was going on six years
now as Miss Karen. Instead, she focused on her
conversation with Melissa, the new TA. I know,
can you believe it? She was only 23. We were
supposed to go for happy hour this Wednesday.
It was a teacher's work day and a half day, so
they planned to leave a little early. Betsy had
invited Karen to show the fellas down at Charlie's
place what a couple of working gals could do
with a stick and some balls on a pool table.
After which they both caught the giggles and
ended up laughing so hard, both their 7th period
classes asked them what was wrong when they saw
the smudged makeup on their faces. Melissa nodded
sympathetically. She knew Karen and Betsy had
been work besties. So kind and sunny. Her parents
must be devastated. The brass bell gave three
quick rings to alert the teacher as recess was
nearly over. Melissa clapped as she walked the
perimeter of the play yard, calling the class
to line up. Single file! Single file! Ladies
first! Last one in line has desk duty! Most of
the class lined up at their designated post,
but not the group of girls. They continued their
dance, hands clasped, spinning a large circle,
six of them all together. They collapsed in a
giggling heap. Melissa smiled to herself, but
she knew if she gave the girls an inch, then...
Well, she was a little girl once, too. She knew
how bad it could get. Clapping louder, she shouted
to them, Let's go, girls! Line up, line up, line
up! One of the girls, Aubrey, ran over. One more
time, Miss Melissa. Please. You can play it with
us. We wanted to do one for Miss Betsy. Melissa
looked down, and even though she knew Aubrey
was putting on her best sad puppy face, it still
worked. If we do one dance together, one, for
Miss Betsy, will you tell the others to follow
directions so we can line up without any fuss?
Yes, Miss Melissa. So, can we? Go ahead, she
nodded. I'll be right over. Aubrey dashed back
to the group, and they all joined hands, leaving
a space right next to Aubrey for Miss Melissa.
As Melissa took her place between Cindy and Aubrey,
Aubrey smiled up at her, beaming. Miss Melissa
and the group of second grade girls collapsed
to the dense autumn grass, all of them giggling.
True to her word, Aubrey had told the others,
and they obediently lined up and returned to
class. Several weeks later, Miss Karen stood
at recess with her arms crossed, chatting with
the new TA, Annabelle. It's just so weird, first
Betsy, then Melissa, Karen shivered. I just don't
understand. You look like you aren't sleeping
well. Karen meant it sympathetically, but...
Thanks. Karen gave Annabelle a deadpan look,
then realized how sharp the word had come out.
I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. It's okay. It's
not. I'm not, you know. I'm not sleeping well.
The group of second grade girls played nearby
when the brass bell rang out three quick chirps.
Karen began calling the class to line. Let's
go, line up, single file, ladies first. Aubrey
skipped over and motioned for Annabelle to lean
in, then whispered in her ear. Annabelle glanced
over at Karen and mouthed, I'll be right back.
Okay, she said to Aubrey. One time, then we line
up, okay? Yes, Miss Anna. Thank you. Come on.
Aubrey grabbed Miss Anna's hand and skipped back
to the circle. Annabelle didn't know why, but
the hair on her neck stood at attention when
she grasped Cindy's hand next to Aubrey. and
began turning a big circle with the girls. Don't
you just love children? I prefer mine medium
rare. What's one thing you wish you could say
to someone, but you can't because they're gone?
Could be a question, apology, and I love you.
Anything at all, as long as it's for somebody
you knew in life who's gone now. That I had so
much to say. Maybe that mostly that they took
that for granted, I suppose, or assumed they'd
always be there. I assumed they'd always be there,
so I didn't say what I could have said when...
I should have said it. Not only is Angels Alive
extraordinary elixir, a robust and rotund elixir,
it is an excellent, exceptional, efficacious,
effectual, potent, powerful, marvelous, magnificent
one, and is, as always, an utterly edible, enjoyable,
potent, potable, pleasantly piquant and palatable,
desirable, delicious, delectable, mouth -watering,
and yet... morally respectable elixir of the
finest quality of the most refined purity developed
under the sharpest eye of scrutiny safely and
scientifically circulated carefully crafted and
combined by the bright and the brilliant the
astute and acute the clever and keen shaman of
the sheik a mystifying medicine man from a mysterious
perplexing peculiar part of pa wang located deep
deep down in the far southwest of the east for
an elixir so unusually useful angel's alive extraordinary
elixir is for a time too temporary to tell uncommonly
priced every extraordinary bottle of angel's
alive extraordinary elixir must go and remember
folks a bottle bought is always a bottle sold
blaze peeked his helmet out to see if he could
spot the sinister scientist but he only saw endless
rows of empty drums Max Ratchet, you're under
arrest in the name of the Republic of the New
Milky Way. Give up now, and no one gets hurt.
The tables have turned, Blaze. You'll never escape
the Tinkerbots. I've programmed them all so they
only have one goal. Your demise. Max tried to
laugh like an evil villain, but ended up choking
and coughing on his own spit instead. Max pushed
the thick lenses of his glasses back up to the
bridge of his nose. Tinkerbots, attack! Blaze
saw hundreds of small silver bots with insect
-like wings rise up in a swarm from behind a
large boxy machine with an opening that looked
like a mechanical mouth. He could hear the buzzing
sound getting louder and he knew he had to think
fast. The space hero looked around the facility
for something, something that might help. To
his left, there was only a wall with windows
that looked out into the blackness of space.
No help there. To the right, there was a conveyor
belt that fed the mechanical mouth and some assorted
crates and drums for shipping space materials.
Still, no help. The buzzing sound got louder,
and Blaze knew he needed an escape plan, but
he felt so sleepy. He looked up at the ceiling
and suddenly had an idea. I'll rest my eyes.
Just, just for a minute. His mom kissed his forehead
and tucked him in. Good night, Nathan. Have sweet
space dreams. Nathan gave a quiet snore as he
rolled to his side and clutched his favorite
action figure a little tighter. You've been listening
to The Intangible, an audio literature program
of weird fiction. This was not a fever dream.
Nor was this the seething sea that ceased to
sea, then thus sufficeth us. it keeps getting
worse till one day you die. Does it get worse
after that? I don't know, kid. I sure hope so.