The Arctic: Alien Enquiry

A Story by Abishai100

Portrait of ice-station valor in the face of an alien-visitor 'Thing' requiring extra forms of human race ending(s).

An homage to The Thing (John Carpenter). Thanks for reading (and Happy Halloween!),

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I was in the Arctic, an ice-station in the middle of nowhere, and my name's Amlan Satan (Algerian-American US-citizen), and I'm a gov't-operator, and I whiled away the time on my chess computer game 'box' in that wretched ice-station which would've been (admittedly) more boring were it not for my female cohorts inside that cold box.

I drew Shelbye, one of the female gov't-workers at that Arctic-station erected by our fine US-government, a fine Xmastime shopping-avatar called Evil Elf, to remind her why going home for gifts and getting presents was the real prayer of our company stranded/working through the holidays that year when an alien 'visitor' engaged us with pure fear(s).

I graduated from Dartmouth and had a nice cozy room inside that Arctic station that season when the alien spaceship crash landed in the ice-water by our ice-station and crawled out and began to grow/proliferate/multiply and then expand/mutate into something...dishuman. Well, needless to say, all this nerd-soldier was thinking of in his cozy Arctic ice-station room before this 'event' was that I was grumbling about getting home soon and enjoying Facebook-chess.

Fortune favors the bold, you know, but it doesn't hurt to have at your ice-station a Boring flamethrower (heat-gun) of Hellfire, which we eventually miraculously used in our arms to dispel that hideous deformed alien 'visitor' which we ended up concluding was from Mars before we burnt its zombie-existence to oblivion, lest it eat/gorge/absorb our flesh, its special/unique 'method' of colonialization/invasion of cold and challenged Earth that season.

US-NEWSWIRE: According to stranger reports, the alien invader was dealt with by the crew of Station-Zebra and was ashed!

By 'ashed' the journalist meant to convey that the alien 'Thing' was burnt into ash by our Boring gun(s), and we managed to record/report/re-present the Earth-defense achievement as a miracle of digestive health and mental sanity/security, in an 'event' that was not foretold in movies like E.T. or My Stepmother Is an Alien.

SHELBYE: We'd not wanted such a 'visit' to our cold station of the Arctic; Amlan always played stalemate-chess; I ice-bathed.

What about our poor sad casualty-of-species-war, Wolfie? He ended up dying at the arms/tentacles of that leviathan-alien 'Thing' which invaded our lives, survival-sense(s), and of course human race. Wolfie was the best snow-dog in world-history, and he died saving the rest of us, giving us just enough foot-time space to burn that Devil to ashes (yes).

When we discovered the crashed strange wheelie-looking ship/craft in the ice-water, we simply thought the abandoned status of it suggested the alien pilot(s) simply flew out in space before the ship entered Earth's atmosphere, leaving us with a 'toy' in the Arctic to liken to various sci-fi/robotics-academy wizardry designs/concepts (ha).

SHELBYE: What's in the face of evil but the lurking notion that alien intelligence out there is not kind but unwound for Hell?

Some call me the real hero of this achievement, which I relay to you now (by virtual microphone!), but I'll always maintain that the hero-spirit of that ice-station 'ordeal' was in fact my beloved snow-dog (Wolfie). However, I'll take the laurel(s) for myself...and for Wolfie. He'd have liked the Selfie alongside me for my Facebook-chess rivals (yes).

"The Thing -- an abomination of human-physique morphing/copying/absorbing leviathan/life; memory for comics" (JOURNAL).

When Shelbye/I got home, to New England (Boston), I got us a fine baseball-figurine/themed chess-set/board, which we now use to play and enjoy stalemate-pace/peace intuition(s), remembering the valor of Wolfie, the triumph of the human race, and the symbolism of United States capitalism that forged spirits out of us in dire-straits while we'd otherwise been somewhat 'mired' in the natural human vanities of luxury-IQ afforded humor. Chess is life.