16 June 2018




Situation – In order to re-focus humanity and preserve peace in our galaxy, the Contaigo is to travel to Proxmia. On arrival, the crew will establish communications with the alien race to determine their level of intelligence, through the initial first contact message.

However, recent events through an unnamed nebula has put the mission into jeopardy, as the Contaigo’s has sustained damages and as a result.

Mission – The Contaigo’s Operation Main Interface Computer (COMIC) will maintain course and if required will initiate the Mission Control (MC) protocol: ARTIFICER, when ship systems become critical...Signal Interrupted.



Revival stage complete.

ERIC watched the words scroll along the visual hub as his sleep pod hissed open. Fog billowed out from the capsule and ERIC laid there for a moment. He felt recharged but was confused by the absence of information that would normally update his cortex’s firmware.

“Good evening ERIC, I’m the Contaigo’s Operation Main Interface Computer. However, you can call me COMIC. Please referred to the displays around the ship.” COMIC announced.

“Good evening COMIC.” ERIC replied, exchanging greetings to the ship’s voice program, positioning his legs over the edge of the sleep pod. ERIC observed the scrolling red text of maintenance logs, which explained ERIC’s revival. The ship was in critical condition.

 “COMIC, please provide an upload of the most current ship firmware.” ERIC requested as he landed his feet on the sterile floor. His naked frame whined into a standing position.

“Unfortunately, I cannot comply.” COMIC announced.

“Explain?” ERIC asked standing there, an example of a Caucasian human male figure, sculpted with dark eyes, and brown hair. He stood tall unaffected by the temperature difference of the revival chamber.

“Due to damages of the communication systems, up-link is not possible at this time.” COMIC announced.

He placed his hand on the base of his neck where the cortex implant was located. He seemed disappointed, while thudding towards the opposite wall of the chamber. There a closet appeared from the wall revealing a blue jumpsuit and ERIC proceeded to get dress.

The jumpsuit was the uniform of the Inter-Stellar Aeronautics and Space Administration. Its logo embroidered with “ISAS” in red lettering onto a dark blue background with the Milky Way galaxy in the background. ERIC brushed his hands onto the material of the uniform ERIC replied. “Without the up-load, the success rate to repairs of the Contaigo will be severely diminished.”

“I acknowledge, ERIC.” COMIC answered.

ERIC sighed, as he remembered his advice to the Captain, to include him with repairs earlier and muttered. “I should have been revived sooner.”

“ERIC unfortunately, ISAS protocol states to only activate the alternative measures when conditions have reached critical levels.” COMIC replied even though ERIC already knew the answer.

ERIC looked up slightly to ensure clarity in his response. “However, as result of this delay and without that linkup I am limited to what I can repair.” As if establishing his escape goat for poor performance. The last thing he wanted was a report going back to the Captain that he failed in his duty.

“Once you have completed the repairs to the communication systems then I can download the necessary files you require.” COMIC stated

ERIC remember his oath to the Captain before launching on this mission. Preserve life at all costs, even if that means sacrificing yours.

“COMIC, then by that time the information would not be required.” ERIC snipped, not waiting for a response. “I will proceed, as the main priority is to preserve human life, so the communication system will have to wait.” ERIC walked tautly towards the chamber exit and announced. “Beginning damage assessment.”



It took a while for ERIC to assess the entire ship, as he had to navigate through a maze of sealed bulkheads, doors and other debris.

ERIC returned to the Environmental Deck, where the glass wall was the only thing remaining of this deck. He stared out into the vacuum of space where the crew presumed to be located. ERIC’s hand pressed against the glass, as if in morning. “COMIC search again for human life signs on the Contaigo.” ERIC ordered, his tone agitated.

“As stated before there are 0.0% signs of human life.” COMIC repeated.

ERIC smacked the glass wall, reacting to COMIC’s response. “COMIC, how can that be?” he paused still in doubt? “How is it that I have survived this journey and the crew did not? You must have a fault in your system?”

“I am running at full capacity.” COMIC announced

“Yet, you are not reading my life signs?” ERIC questioned waiting for COMIC’s conclusion.

“Negative.” COMIC announced after an obvious pause.

“I do not understand?” ERIC questioned and stood there briefly, in deep thought his anger faded as he removed his hand from the wall. “How unfortunate about the crew and the Captain.” He remained silent while resuming his tasks to the ship’s repairs, processing this information.



Preserve life at all costs, even if that means to sacrifice yours.

Easier said than done, ERIC thought repeatedly, for the last few days. His processes repeating in a loop trying to solve the problem of the lack of crew to assist with the daunting repairs. The calculations were the same each time.

“It will take more than 292 Earth days to complete the repairs to the ship, for it to be able to arrive at Proximal.” ERIC stated moving debris that blocked the entrance of the elevator to the Bridge Deck

“That is correct ERIC.”

“There is not enough inventory of raw materials. Which, to my calculations the ship will lose environmental integrity and all organic matter will parish.”

“Correct, from the inventory logs and your updates on damage analysis, repairs will not be completed before the environmental systems are in-operable”

 “Well, let us reroute environmental to supply only this deck, which allow more time to complete our mission.” ERIC ordered to COMIC




As the levels of the atmospheric begin to rise on the Bridge Deck, ERIC expressed a sigh of relief. As he had to be persistent to recalibrate the atmospheric filters to decrease the volume of oxygen exhausted only to the Bridge Deck. In addition, he had to disable the safety protocols to re-route the ducting, as the Ship’s design prevented this. Now that ERIC had successfully mitigated this crisis, he started assessing the communication link satellite.

He needed to re-establish a link back Mission Control, to upload instructions and the first contact message. COMIC had determined that the kilometers of fiber-optic cabling to the satellite was serviceable and the communication computer itself was operational. Which only left the satellite itself as the root of the problem. This would have ERIC conducting a spacewalk to repair the damages on site. ERIC sighed, as he hated spacewalks.



With a twist of his helmet clicked into place and his spacesuit begun to pressurize. He viewed his spacesuit hub to confirm functionality. Then he stepped in front of the hatch and was ready to evacuate the air of the cargo hanger.  “COMIC, let us get this over with.” ERIC announced.

“Get what, over with?” COMIC replied.

“Never mind, just depressurize and open the bay doors so I can procced.” ERIC voiced through the suit’s communications.

With that, COMIC depressurized the hanger and released the locks on the door. It begun creep open, raising into the ceiling exposing a starry scene. ERIC stood momentarily in the universe’s’ beauty and realized how truly alone he was. For Humanity he thought as he steadies his breath, listening to the rhythmic breathing that accompanying him in the vacuum of space. His memory accessed his spacewalk training on the International Space Station Three. He did not enjoy it than and still did not, as there were too many factors that could go wrong and could easily snuff out his existence.

“COMIC, I have vacated the Contaigo and proceeding to the communication link satellite.”

“Acknowledged ERIC.” COMIC replied.

ERIC initiated his walk by attaching his safety latch to himself and to the ship and with a gasp he bounded away from the ship. As he floated away from the ship and it was then he could observe the overall condition of the ship. The Contaigo spun in space with debris hanging from its bulkheads like a wet mop. ERIC assessed that the added debris circling the Contaigo would cause him to re-route his trajectory.

The process was slow and methodical moving forward to the aft of the ship. As he clasped and unclasped safety lines as he went, while at the same time avoiding debris. He had to back track to retrieve his last remaining safety line.

When he finally reached the satellite, he announced his arrival with COMIC and immediately assessed the satellite dish. From there he determined that the structure of the satellite was sound and so he proceeded to the core. At the core, it became obvious that the severed cable had been from the debris embedded into the ship’s hull, shorting the link.




“Roger COMIC, proceeding back to the hanger now.” ERIC announced moving away from the satellite dish.

“Acknowledged ERIC.” COMIC replied

ERIC backtracked through the debris field and was within sight of the hanger door. Suddenly a violent force flung him out into space, and he was spinning heel over head helplessly to the inertia. ERIC’s movements were desperate, attempting to connect with something to stop him, but no sooner, in his attempt he came an abrupt stop. His safety cable had pulled taught and he was hovering amongst debris, which must have struck. ERIC was lucky, and that is when he heard an audible alarm sounded.

ERIC looked at his spacesuit hub and discovered he was losing oxygen fast. He immediately went through his checks to determine the cause. As the audible alarm kept announcing the drop of oxygen, he feverishly discovered a puncture on the top of his helmet just above his visor.

With one hand clamped over the puncture he reached for his caulking gun, directed the nozzle to his helmet and dispensed a bead, sealing the puncture instantaneously. After he re-evaluated his hub to discover the oxygen, levels were still dropping. ERIC was quick to realize that it was possible of a secondary leak at the rear of the helmet. He placed one hand on the backside of his helmet and watched his spacesuit hub. “Come on, where are you?” ERIC complained while still watching his oxygen levels drop. It was then he noticed a fluctuation to those levels and he dragged his hand back. Levels crept back to optimal levels and he reached for his caulking gun to seal the second hole. This time though he was blindly trying to set this hole. He took a moment, angled the caulking gun, and then injected the caulking onto the puncture with an eerie precision.

Watching his oxygen levels return to normal, ERIC made his way to the hanger door as he calculated the odds of his survival. They were not favourable.




Back on the Bridge deck, ERIC analyzed the result of the repairs and even though the communication was re-established, there was no signal. ERIC discovered that the same nebula that caused these chains of events that caused severe damage to the ship had also killed most of the crew, was producing intense interference that no signal could get through. He looked at the hub and he knew what it was to be alone, but to create the single most important message that humankind has ever broadcast was beyond him.




ERIC was persistent in failing; he repeatedly tried to compose the first contact message. Yet, each new megabyte of information uploaded from his re-established link, was creating information to clutter in his process.

He spun haphazardly in zero gravity on the Bridge Deck, as if somehow it would help his brainstorming process. COMIC had advised ERIC that altering the environmental settings to a damaged system was not efficient, yet ERIC had ignored these suggestions, as his concentration had been intense to trying to analyze updated data.

 “ERIC, life support system integrity has deteriorated again.” COMIC announced

“Thanks” ERIC replied orientating to himself to the floor of the Bridge Deck and pushing off the ceiling. “COMIC re-establish gravity gyros.” ERIC reverted himself to the floor as gravity was re-established to the deck’s environment and landed on his feet. His muscular frame whined as he stood up.

“Such a simple task.” ERIC exhaled

“I do not understand; which task are you referring to ERIC?” COMIC asked anatomically.

“Communication” ERIC replied as he viewed the Bridge hub. COMIC’s updates on the ship’s environmental status caused a sigh.




The audible alarm echoed in his ears as the Contaigo’s Environmental system failed all together. ERIC accepted his fate, as he could already detect the drop-in temperature on the Bridge Deck. Yet ERIC would ensure that the Contaigo’s mission would have a chance, as ERIC’s hand hard-pressed the pad icon to initiate the broadcast of his message for humanity.

“ERIC, the firmware upload is complete.” COMIC announced.

ERIC reverted his eyes from the hub looking at his hand and wished he could weep.

“I am the Emergency Response Implementation Command?” he stated as all non-essential mission systems shutdown.



Humanity has endured vastness, in the pursuit of others.

The message pinged again taunting ERIC, as it was all that remained of the Contaigo. Once again, he had to bypass security program to allow the emergency beacon to broadcast the first contact message. Its output power was the most efficient solution to maintain hope for humanity, yet his undoing.

As it was him that provided power to the beacon through his own power cell, sitting there motionless in the Captain’s chair. Observing the change to his limbs, as flesh crumbled from the result sub-temperatures and they shined metallic. ERIC had become aware of his existence, that he was Mission Control’s safety net, masked in flesh to make the crew feel comfortable, in case their mission was in jeopardy.

Now, his mechanical limb hung over the Bridge hub controls. Contemplating his protocol, as ERIC’s battery cell dwindled and he would non-existent. His one question that still remained.

Is humanity ready to share this universe?


"Aww fuck."

Benjamin muttered sitting front of his tv. It was on, with a hockey game be played with the local home team. This was a regular occurrence for white coat witches to turn on this chatter box, in an attempt to distract him. Though he was privy to their mystical influence to enslaving him into the fears of mainstream media. The constant news of death or destruction can leave any good person with a weary heart.

Though Benjamin wasn't a regular good hearted person, because he didn't give a shit. He rather used his imagination and create his world to entertain himself. He had to, so not fall into the clutches of the white coats.

He did enjoyed picturesque view of the courtyard, which made did make it easy to wander off. The nature provided in the courtyard, as the white virgin crispness of fresh snow brought a silent calmness. Benjamin starred intently at a flock of sparrows pecking away at provided feed. Their little borrowing in the snow and flinging it around. Their anatomical movements were somehow peaceful and wished he was a sparrow.


A calmness came over him, chirping away in the royal courtyard of Greystone. His crest poof out in song as he spotted the Queen floating across the cobble floor of the courtyard with her Royal entourage.

She sat on the edge of the fountain that was situated in the center of the courtyard, testing the water with her hands. The Queen's guard established a loose perimeter out of her sight,  providing her protection and yet trying give her privacy. Only her personal guard remained in close vicinity.

Benjamin took flight off the castle wall and glided down and landing on the fountain edge near the Queen. He dipped down to take a drink and fluttered his wings to bathe himself, to emulate what birds do.

The Queen seemed troubled, as her youthful face showed deep lines, while starring off into the fountain. Her hand created ripples in the water as it moved back and forth. "Strider..." 

Her Personal Royal Guard prompted to his name. "Yes my highness?" moving swiftly to her command.

"What am I to do?" The Queen asked looking back at him.

Strider was a man of discipline carrying many years of experience on both his face and chest. He looked back at the Queen with a sense of unease to answering her.

"Your highness, wouldn't you want the advice of your council? I'm not experienced in the art of the political tongue."

"Damn it Strider if I wanted a political dance, I would have order you to do it, and you've would enjoyed very minute." She continued "So give me your best guess then."

"As you wish your highness."

It was obvious that Strider was uncomfortable with giving advice on something he had little knowledge or care with. Yet he proceed, treading with caution.

"Your highness in my opinion the events that have occurred are not of your doing or of your control." Strider continued "Even though this is a grave issue the illness of The Tree is not your fault."

"I know this, but what are we going do? The Keepers of the Five Kingdoms with all their knowledge and power are aghast." The Queen demanded.

Though Strider remained silent rather providing any answer because there seem to be no answer.

Benjamin bobbed about in his current form being inconspicuous, while listening to the heart wrenching news. As the heath of The Tree affected the Five Kingdoms entirely and with the news that the Keepers were unable to intervene made the news seem hopeless.

The Queen turned towards Benjamin and gave a smile placing her hand on the fountain base. Benjamin cocked his head assessing her demeanor, then bobbed onto her palm.

"Aren't you the sweetest thing." She stated.

Benjamin can feel himself blush and continued to chirp in sweet song as the Queen lifted him up. "Strider look at this sparrow isn't this the cutest thing? Doesn't it seem that there is hope when you see such marvels?"

Strider engaged the situation with sparrow as cautious as always, when it came the protection of the Queen. He took a step forward.
"With everything going on, these small wonders need to be cherished." The Queen smiled.

"I be careful my Lady, there are strange things happening in these days. We had our own occurrence not to long ago." He took another step forward.

"Well, Sir Strider that is why you are here, and for me keep you sharp."

"Yes my Lady, but the summons of  strange magic lately has made me weary."

Another step his hand grabbing the hilt of his sword as he continued to speak.

"We were lucky last time with that ghastly figure that was struck down."

Benjamin sensed something was wrong, he fluttered his wings as he noticed Strider's attention was focused on him.

"What's wrong Sir Strider?" The Queen inquired

"Something is odd with this bird my Lady." Strider begun unsheathe his sword.

Benjamin in a panic, fluttered away from the Queen. Strider pounced forward to place himself between his Queen and this intruder.

Benjamin in mid flight transformed. Wings became arms, talons became feet and feathers become a cloaked figure crouched.

Strider's sword swung with futile attempt to strike but unsuccessful as the cloaked figure eluded him.

"What the hell! " Benjamin shouted in defence.

Strider looked like recognized the voice of his opponent. "Filthy worm tongue! Guards!"

13 June 2018


Sit there for a moment and get comfortable. Or not, it's up to you. Though take the time and think about what I'm about to tell you.
As this has become my collection of gibberish that out pours over the lips of my mental capacity.

Reflection on those events that you sometimes you wish you would forget, did you ever think that you have alter them? That somehow scares within the grey matter transcending into denial of the abuse.

The constant bombardment of subliminal messaging from parents', teachers and friends. Creates habits, vises insecurities and anything else that defines them, making predetermined filters of 'failure'. This all laid out in front of you.

Don't get me wrong, parents love you and they try to teach you to be successful. What is flawed they paint every child with the same dirty brush, getting the same result.


12 June 2018


I love the things that cannot be touched
It’s a hunger that deprives so much
I gnaw on the essence of my soul; and
The words bleed my limbs numb.

Just another poem, left out in the cold;
some say a gift of words
I say, the words haunt me
Its teeth are defined, to be one of a kind.

Every time I write about you, I die
Entrails of the heart scattered across these lines
Smeared in volumes calling to you
In the desperation that you will read just one.
Understand the yearning for you; but
Then you knew and I had no clue
You chose not to listen to a lover's cue; but
Rather you stew.

Desperation and manipulation in mascara hues
Defining eyes, I fall under their spell
Just continue to bleed each poem
Till last breath I fell.

06 June 2018


"Damn it John, you are going to die." He continued to repeat between each gun shot he fired. Blood splattered and human parts painted his house in red. His ears ringed from the concussion of the gun fire echoing in the living room, resulting in him barley hearing his own voice yelling at him to get up.

Though the click of his shot gun and the fifth and final person that broke into his house fell to the ground, forced him to finally listen to himself.

He staggered to his feet, the room spinning as went against his instincts. It was in this moment he realized the bodies of the dead people were not dead. Not only dead but dismembered from shotgun slugs. Yet, it didn't seem to matter as they continue to hunt John down.

He darted upstairs and went looking for ammunition. rummaging in the draws of his end table for an emergency reload. He only found two rounds. Swearing to his lack of preparation, he inserted the cartridges. John then moved across the hall to a second bedroom.

The room was obviously a children's bedroom at one point, as it still showed reminisce of sport paraphernalia and kids toys. He paused a brief moment with tears weeping down his cheek. He just realized how fucked up how his life had become. Wiping the sad moment away from his face he heard rustling coming from behinds him.

John turned quickly, trying to bring his shotgun when he tripped over his feet. Falling to the ground the shotgun went and blood spattered all over him, things went black.