Flash Fiction: What’s On The Moon?

Flash Fiction: What’s On The Moon?

In the puzzling universe of Parallel Time, Professor Overbach studies the Moon from his observatory. With his eye fixed tight to the lense of the telescope he notices some odd goings on.

‘Over there! Over there!’ he exclaims to his quiet assistant. ‘Did you see that?’

The assistant shuffles in the background, feeling nervous that the professor is becoming overexcited again.

‘Here, take it. That’s right. Tweak it left a little…up a bit…Perfect.’

The assistant gasps.

‘You saw him? The old guy in the rocking chair!’ squeals the professor. ‘He gets up occasionally and lifts up a small flap in the Moon’s surface.

The assistant whispers in Professor Overbach’s ear.

‘He’s ejecting video tapes, you say?’ says the Professor. ‘Let me see.’

He observes, contemplates and observes again.

‘He’s handing over the tape to a blade of grass in a canoe. They’re talking about something.’

The quiet assistant nods quietly.

‘The blade of grass is starting to paddle. Keep an eye on this for me. I’m off for a sandwich.’

Even bizarre events can’t stop Professor Overbach from pampering the needs of his stomach.

Time passes.

The Professor returns and asks for an update. The silent assistant whispers in his ear again.

‘Let me get this right,’ Professor Overbach muses. ‘You saw the blade of grass paddle up to a pelican wearing a pair of green carpet slippers holding a ‘No Access’ sign?’

The assistant nods.

‘Then the pelican pulled a lever to reveal a large circular hole that it then lobs the tapes down.’

The assistant nods yet again.

‘Pelicans, old men, blades of grass, large holes on the surface…What is going on here?’

The assistant takes to the Professor’s ear again.

‘You think we should call NASA right away? Not just yet. Keep an eye on it. I’m popping out for a milkshake.’

Time passes.

Once the Professor is back the silent assistant makes hushed tones in his lughole.

‘You’ve noticed that when the pelican throws a video tape in the hole a new one pops into the old man’s hand at the same time?’

The assistant confirms with a smile and a nod, then whispers again.

‘You’ve come to the conclusion that the Moon’s energy derives from recycled video tapes of human history? You mean they’re recording us over and over to power the Moon?!’ inquires the Professor.

Predictably, the assistant nods.

The Professor puffs his cheeks.

He mutters.

He consults charts.

He punches calculations into the computer.

He takes a gulp of strawberry milkshake and peers into the telescope once more before coming to one final unshakeable answer.

‘Stuff this for a games of soldiers. I’m off down the pub!’

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