from the straits to the 33rd

The name on the lone incubator screen was “Fatimah”. Robert says the name out loud, wondering if it was African or Asian, and the lightness of it leaving his tongue makes his heart beats a different pace. The sound made by tiny kicks from the inside of the transparent case wakes Robert up from his trance. He presses the grey button and the machine releases the glass cocoon into the air of the hall of the ship’s left wing. Robert takes it closely into his chest.

He carries the armored baby while navigating through numerous half decomposed bodies, floating aimlessly in the main corridors. Something bad has happened here, he thought, and Robert dared not to imagine the smell of dead flesh if he ever to remove his helmet out of curiosity. Maybe the smell of the rotting bodies would kill him first before decompression hits.

The sight of his wreck of a spaceship cured his claustrophobia fast. It is normal for a ship scavenger to spend days or even weeks in a space carrier at this size, roaming the empty corridors for anything to sell before any towing ship come and drag the dead leviathan to the moon. Robert has not called himself a ship scavenger for such a long time. His last trip had found him a huge stacks of magazines and books in some language he cannot read- real magazine made of papers. He traded it with an antique collector from the 29th colony for a huge sum of money, which leads to his early retirement last year, at 37 years old.

He removes his helmet with one hand while holding the baby-case in his left, after exiting his ships airlock. My ship is not a good place to raise a baby. Cigarette butts floating in the main deck facing the front panel and a sour smell lingers in the stale air. Robert picks up every last one of the tiny soft cylinder using his hands, and swears to himself to replace the air conditioning system when he got to the 33rd.

“Out out, little baby” and there she goes with a spray of light fumes. Like a bad swimmer that never sinks, she flaps and flaps all over the main panel. Robert cannot help himself but to observe this tiny creature exploring the inside of his home. He had a pet dog once in his previous ship, and wonders if he could do much out of that experience. The orphanage in the 33rd is not the worse, but certainly not the best place to grow up. He knows of course. Not that he hates Miss Tally.

As the baby is pressing random buttons on the panel, he shifts his eyes to the large window on his left. The dead men ship is a beast, a giant metal city floating side by side with Robert’s tiny decommissioned piece of junk in the vast blackness of space, thousand miles away from the nearest colony. He wonders which one of the dead bodies sets the distress call before his demise. Is it one of the baby’s parents, hoping for a savior for their precious child? What kind of death that took them all?

He kicks the floor beneath him lightly and launches himself towards the baby before she was able to put a cigarette butt she just found into her mouth. He holds the baby, and it is the first time for him to experience such warm feeling. It brought him to a place where he found another part of himself he never thought existed. He fell in love with the baby right away, as her tiny fingers clasping on his blond hair. He is not a lonely spaceman anymore.

“O Fateema. Cigarette butts are no food for babies,”

Robert is no longer a retired ship scavenger. He is now a father.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Why is it called the blue planet? It is not blue at all,”

“Well, it was once blue I guess?” Robert remembered the tale as Fatimah is pressing her face on the glass window. The red planet, mankind previous home, was once a giant mass of blue, but the massive algae bloom had turned all the water on its surface into a crimson boundless sea. He remembered Miss Tally from the orphanage once told him that they used to carry loads of saltwater to be purified in the colonies, using massing tank-ships, long before she was born. It was the Muslim terrorists from the rogue colony that ends it by releasing the genetically modified algae in the waters, before being blown to debris by the United Colonies. Slowly the planet turns red since that day, few hundreds years ago. 

Fatimah is also a Muslim name, Robert learned from the Arab mechanic that repaired his ship in the 33rd around 5 years ago. She grew up into a little girl with features so foreign to him. Her skin is just a tone darker than his khakis, and her dark, deep brown eyes resemble none of the people that he knew. This December Robert is going to bring her for a vacation across the space to the early colonies, starting from the first one. A grand tour across the galaxy for him and his daughter to find the people she belong to, and hopefully unlocks the door to her unknown origins.

Fatimah succeeded in proving to him that she’s a brilliant child by mastering English, French and Mandarin taught by Robert when she was only three. She learns how to navigate when she was four, and now she claims the invisible seat besides Robert as his vice captain, sometimes replacing him when he was asleep. She had started to refuse to call Robert “daddy” and denies his control altogether after she knew that she is not really his daughter.

“To grow up in that cramped space ship is never good for a child. She needs to be in the colonies with other children at her age, and experience a normal childhood. The 33rd colony is not a bad place to raise a kid. Good school too I heard,” that is what the Doctor had told him. Robert shakes his head. Am I not a good dad? I've stopped smoking for god sake.

“I can’t see any island at all. Are they any left on Earth?” no response.

“Is there anything wrong daddy- oh hell- Robert?” Fatimah had been staring at Robert's face for longer than he could remember. Her dark brown eyes look so foreign, but it reminds him of a past so far that he could only remember in distant dreams. Maybe Fatimah was my daughter in my previous life- thought Robert as he realizes that he is better off an atheist rather than a Buddhist. Karma sounds like bad luck to him.

“Nothing Tim. I just felt so lucky that I’m not alone” and Fatimah smiled back at him.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Are you smoking again Robert?” asks Fatimah as she exits the airlock. It’s been awhile since the last time she had visited him. She was greeted by a floating black kitten and a rush stale air with a faint hint of sour.

“I never smoked Tim, ask Mr. Armstrong here. All I could smell is his piss” Robert was reading a copy of the Holy Bible. Fatimah wonders about how much that Earth antique had costs him, but she did not ask.

“Happy birthday Robert, my dad,” said Fatimah as she brought out dry cakes in small plastic wrapping from her bag.

Robert let the Bible floats in the air and takes the kitten into his arm. He had totally forgotten his own birthday, and starts calculating using his fingers. He can never guess Fatimah’s birthday correctly ever since he found her, so when Fatimah was three he decided to celebrate her third birthday together with him. Starting from that they shared a birthday on 29th November. Fatimah never really cares about dates. For her the day Robert saved him from the dead ship was the day she was born.

She is now an adult as she proudly claimed. She left Robert’s ship at the age of 7 to attend a French school in the 33rd colony and spent most of her childhood growing up with Miss Tally. Robert was never happy to let her go, but as stubborn as he is, he loves Fatimah so much that he never want to let her talent go to waste. At the age of 19, she’s the youngest in the United Colonies to join the Research Facility in the 40th colony. There she found out that she’s genetically a Malay, a race long lost in the digital history, after the 3rd Earth war melted the ice caps on Earth for good.

“Robert, I’m going to Earth with the gramps in three weeks to make the sea blue again. You know, clean it from all that red shit. You must never tell anyone else about this or else,” she made a gun with her hand and points it to her head. Robert almost squeezed Mr. Armstrong to death in a split second. Is she really going to Earth?

"Maybe we all can return to Earth one day. If we are able to bring back the ice of course. That's the second phase. But to be honest I have my own plan when we get there. I'm gonna be the first pirate on the red sea," and her laugh scares Mr. Armstrong away.

“I’ve been dreaming Fatimah”, Robert stares at the infinite darkness from the front window.

“Quite a few times I’ve been dreaming. The first time is before you moved to live with Miss Tally. I was floating- not in space, but in pools of saltwater, securely held on my back by gravity. The sky is the real night sky. I’m on Earthly sea, floating endlessly in infinite blue water sparkling with stars. It happens again and again, and I realize that I’m moving closer to an island with each dream,”

Fatimah stares into his blue eyes to find any sign of him lying, but she could not find any. Robert looks so old in his pajamas, a sight she had never saw before. But something about it looks so familiar in her head that it disturbs her instantly.

“Last night, I’m already on the sands, and waiting for me was a woman with long hair. I can’t see her face, but I followed her as she walks into masses of trees, thousand times thicker than what we saw in 19th colony’s reservations. I walk through the leaves behind her, until we get to a giant hole on a massive wall of stone, and I followed her inside. All the time I never know what I was doing, but I was not scared. It feels eerily familiar,”

Fatimah brings out a pack of cigarette and a lighter from her astronaut jumpsuit. After lighting hers, she tosses the pack and Robert caught it while she was puffing the smoke with tense eyebrows.

“What’s wrong kid?” asks Robert as he lights his. Mr. Armstrong the cat is nowhere to be found, already escaped from the cloud of carcinogenic fumes, slowly filling the deck.

“What you just told me, can I finish that for you?"

"Then she brought you to a sparkling fountain and told you to drink from it right? Did you get to drink it?”

Robert tries his best to comprehend what she just said. It was confusing, more than the dream itself. He never told Fatimah about his dreams. Maybe she had once heard him talking in his sleep, but she’s not here to listen about the fountain he went to last night.

“I’ve always been dreaming about the same island too, but since I was a kid. It drives me nuts. The only thing about my dream that is different from yours, is that the one leading me to the fountain is a blond guy. And he looks just like you Robert,” 

_________________________________________________________________________________

Dreams don’t make you go crazy. It’s the days you spent thinking about it that suck the life out of you. Robert never wanted to go to sleep. Last night he fall asleep while reading the Quran, and he dreamt of Fatimah.

She was on a lonely craft, floating on an endless blue sea. She never bothers to sit or stand up, instead she just lie on her back, while the wooden boat moves closer and closer to the now familiar island. Or is it the island that moves closer to her? He can’t decide as there is no other landmass for him to observe from his bird-eye view, but he could see- he could feel that the island is always alive. It is circling her craft slowly in a regular speed, like a chunk of a giant moon orbiting a tiny fragile Earth. He woke up immediately when the whirlpool created by the island’s movement sucked Fatimah and the wooden boat in.

After 20 years of denying, he finally accepts that the woman who was always waiting for him in his dreams is indeed Fatimah, and he is the one in hers. He had never heard from her ever since she left for Earth, and he keeps on telling himself that she is still alive. Day by day. He had stopped himself few times from going to the red planet by himself to find her only daughter.  If his ugly ship looks like some kind of terrorist by any chance and blown to debris by the United Colonies, it will only be troubling Fatimah. He waited with lots of patience, as she had told her how the 40th colony wanted to keep the project a secret from the others. He waited and waited as his dreams become wilder day by day.

One night he dreamt that he was a baby, and Fatimah is an old woman carrying him around in the forest, with LED bugs buzzing wildly in the between the trees. She picked a slow one from the air, a huge pulsing red, and squeezed it into his tiny mouth. She then brought him into the cave and throws him into the pool of water beneath the sparkling fountain. He woke up breathless as the tiny boy he is was drowning in the shallow.

Death is a lie. Live forever. Old Fatimah’s last words before killing him keeps on replaying in his head.

The Doctor told him that he is getting old, and spending years alone in a spaceship would definitely drives anyone crazy. He also shows him some researches on how gravity-less environment is not good to a person more than 60 years old. Robert told him to fuck off. He is 77 this year.

He’s not going crazy. He just wanted to have look at Fatimah's face, to know that she's alive. He missed his daughter and everyday he stares at the airlock door expecting for her to come back with a pack of cigarette. Mr. Armstrong the black cat had been dead just 4 years after she’s gone. Robert cried his eyes out that day, and decided not to keep any pets ever before Fatimah returns. What she had told her on the last birthday they celebrated together; about the dreams that they had been cluelessly sharing is steadily making him go insane. He’s desperate for answers, and no holy books or articles could give him one.

Maybe Fatimah had already found the answer on Earth, he thought.

_________________________________________________________________________________

“Do you still remember the time when we were fleeing from the wrath of the crazy Sultan? It was 1408, a time where swords are clashing with cannons. We were lucky the spears won’t hit us. That night we held each other so tight in the storm, and death was rocking us back and forth. We were no doubt already dead back then, but the island, this fucking huge island came out of the sea like its nothing, and saved us,” the woman’s laughter fills the room with echoes of memories and nostalgia. She is in her late 50’s, and Robert was staring at her from his final bed, trying his best to remember where he once saw that dark brown eyes.

“Old folks from 40th thought I was crazy. Even the peaks of Himalayas were miles beneath the ocean. They told me that there's no islands anymore on the red sea, but I found it. Like how we found it for the first time in the straits of Malacca,” Fatimah's voice was mystical, dreamlike.

“Can you believe that I found it again? I thought I was going crazy too. I find it in a place where the sea is still blue, and the fountain is still sparkling like it was yesterday, and oh, how can we forget the mountains? It is right behind the fountain Robert. Mountains made of our journals, from handwritten in ancient ink to inkjet printed."

"All of our lives, from the times of muskets and machetes, pirates and cannons, mountains of them left to be read by no one, until the few years before we left earth for good. Oh God. What year is that?” streams of tears running down her face as Robert's ancient eyes are tracing her features with all the consciousness that he might still have.

"I've spent years reading all of them Robert- every fading pages. We never stop writing as God-knows how many times we replace each other when the other one gets old. What a life we had, taking turns raising each other. You're the best writer I've ever read Robert, and you wrote about our life, about us. It makes me wanna go out there to find our second archive of journals we might hide somewhere in this vast space. Around a thousand years of our "new" life in space my dear. We were writing history perpetually, and I fell in love with you every single day. That was before I made my mind to leave you at the door of this orphanage 90 years ago. I'm sorry Robert," 

"How grateful I am to God now that I could see you again," Fatimah wipes her tears with her sleeve.

She kisses Robert on his forehead and moves towards the suitcase placed on the lone table in the middle of the room. She took out a syringe and a small glass vial containing a clear sparkling liquid. Alzheimer can never be cured, and she’s not trying to cure him. She just want to restart the cycle and forgive herself.

“I’m sorry that I abandoned you Robert. I’m sorry that I left you motherless, alone and oblivious of the eternal life you might miss. I am so sorry my dear, for I am not strong enough to deal with how fast our world is changing every time I open my newborn eyes. I was losing my purpose each time I stare into space, and life feels so empty in this endless void. I needed an escape but I admit that I’m such a fuck up that I left you in front of this fucking orphanage, right after I let you drink it." she put her hands on her face and starts to roam around. 

"How can I repay your kindness? What are the chances, for you to be led by blind fate to find a naked baby in a ship of floating bodies? I should’ve chosen death for I've destroyed our only chance for immortality, but I’m too scared to disappear from this world. And I miss you, but I can’t find you no matter how hard I have tried.”

“But God doesn’t want us back into to his hands yet. That's why he leads you to the dead ship. To me. He brought us together again, to continue what I've might has ended,”

Robert stares and the unknown woman's monodrama as she moves around the small room. The blue room on the second floor of the orphanage once belonged to Miss Tally. Robert had been replacing her after her death around 10 years ago, and now he’s spending his last days in the place where he was brought up, in a company of an unknown woman he swears he once knew from his previous life. A life so far from the present Robert which brain is deteriorating with each minute he spent breathing.

Fatimah slides the needle carefully into the arm of the man he once loved. She still loves him, but their condition was beyond any common circumstances that the feeling she had towards him becomes something incomprehensible to her, heavy and addictive as life itself.

“Death is a lie. Live forever Robert,” whispers Fatimah into his ear before she pushes the liquid deep into his vein. From the sparkling fountain in the cave of the immortal island, the transparent elixir are now finding their way into Robert's bloodstream as he shut his hazy eyes for the last time.

She tosses the used syringe out of the window and moves towards the balcony. She takes a deep breath as artificial sunlight flashing from the dome of the 33rd Colony, bringing life to all of its inhabitants. She wonders how much things will change in a few thousand years. From small wooden boat for two, to a giant mass of living metal wandering in the vast space between Jupiter and Saturn, mankind will never fail to surprise her every time. And for the first time in her current life, she feels alive to her bone.

She returns to the bed but old Robert is nowhere to be found. On his bed another animal is crawling out of an empty hospital gown on its four tiny limbs. Fatimah stares in awe at the blond boy. His eyes are as blue as the water surrounding the island. She takes him and holds him close to her chest, and flashing in her head are all the different times she had done the same thing, in vivid visions like a different kind of deja vu.

"O Robert. I'll take care of you my blue eyed boy, this time, and the next time, and the next time, until eternity ends us,"

Fatimah is no longer a retired Earth explorer. She is now a mother.

the adventure of inspector wahab

"What the heck"

"Only 3 kilos and the whole world needs to know? Fuck you la Hana. Who needs to know about how much weight you lose when it doesn’t change anything? You motherfucker." 

"Lan, kau dok mencarut-carut apa tu. Kau ingat mak ni tak tahu?" what are you cursing at Lan? And you think I don’t know? It was something along that line and it echoes across the small apartment from the kitchen to Azlan’s room.

He ignored his mum and continued scrolling the timeline up and down, up and down until nothing is left for him to devour, but his mind keeps on bringing him back to that girl's post. There is something about overweight girls and their self denial that really irritate him to the bones, and he can’t let this one go for all that is holy.

Ugliness is incurable, but weight loss is only a healthy life away. These Facebook posts on this product and that product are scabs from this whole cosmetic business. Everyone knows but those ignorant stuffs keeps on appearing on his Facebook timeline, and God knows how Azlan wish they’re smarter than this.

"Only 3 kilos, and you still look like a wreck you fat slob. I can't see any difference. How can you be proud of that? Have you ever heard of the word exercise?  Go for a jog for fuck sake."

Azlan takes a deep breath and his fingers begin to dance on the keyboards with all the profanity he is capable of.

_________________________________________________________________________________

It is not a great morning for Inspector Wahab. It is only 5am, and he just drove all the way from the warmth of his wife to meet a dead kid in an unknown neighborhood. A girl just hung herself in the living room. She had been put down to the ground by somebody long before the police came, and the rope has been removed from her neck leaving a intricate pattern pressed on the cold dead skin. A new guy accidentally kicked a part of the broken chair on the scene, but everyone just ignored it. Inspector Wahab takes the identification card handed to him by his assistant.

"Nurhana binti Hassan,"

"Ah fuck this. Fuck all of this shit, I'm out,"

Now this case is going to be big for a week in the news and there, another sleepless nights for whoever that is going to be replacing him after he submitted his immediate resignation notice. He's been stupid enough working day and night when he could sit back and enjoy endless vacation if he had just sold his lands in Kedah earlier. No more police stuff and underage suicides for him.

"Say goodbye to Inspector Wahab shitheads,"

He's glad that the dead kid's dad called the police immediately. Inspector Wahab is tired of half decomposed bodies that smell nothing better than how they look. The only few things that is bothering him is the dad's whereabouts, and the closed tab of Azlan Rooney's Facebook page on the laptop full of Hello Kitty stickers in the girl's bedroom. More works for him in these early hours.

“Bali or Bandung? Or maybe I should perform the umrah first?”  Thought Inspector Wahab as the new guy repeat the same question he just asked a few moments before.

_________________________________________________________________________________

"This is the best thing of the week, and its only Friday!" Exclaims Amir.

"Hana hasn't been replying your Facebook comment yet since last night you retard. I can't wait to see her face in the class," he keeps on swiping his iPhone screen up and down, up and down. Then he takes a look at Azlan who has not stopped yawning since the moment they exited Amir's dad's BMW. 

"Do we really have to talk about that fat slut? Amir, my Manchester United jersey, please make sure it’s an S size."

"I won’t wear any M okay?"

"What? Hahahaha fuck you la Lan. I'm gonna buy you an XXL."

"How big is an XXL actually?" 

That is the last thought in Amir's mind, before his instinct takes over at the sight of the speeding Proton Waja and he pushes Azlan out of the way with all his strength. The impact was so immense it sends Amir flying few meters away from the crash site. The sound alerted few passerbies who are usually numb in this cold morning air as it could be heard from the nasi lemak stall on the other side of the road.

The Proton Waja immediately leaves the scene, screeching and leaving trails on the asphalt. The road in front of SMK Taman Indah becomes congested that morning. Azlan totally forget about the Manchester United jersey and the differences that the sizes could make on his out-of-school appearance. Amir is now folded limbs to limbs in the pool of his own blood, a good excuse for the sight of a person vomiting from a distance in Azlan’s peripheral vision.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Hassan is smoking for the first time in years, and he is on his fifth cigarette.  He takes out his wallet and manages to gather around RM14 worth of banknotes and coins. He regrets not going to the ATM first before he begins his fatal hunt. His work clothes since last night are drenched in sweat, and he is stuck in the middle of nowhere with his now fuel-less Waja. His shivering hands are gripping tight on the steering wheel.

"Dear God. Why is this happening to me?"

"Maybe you should just kill yourself. Then you can be with your daughter in hell,"

Streams of tears is racing down Hassan's face as he wonders if his sins are too much that God just have to take everything away from him. He exits his Waja and decides to leave it on the petrol stations car park, and he begins to walk on the side of the road. As he passes a thick spot of bushes, he takes out his phone and car keys and throws them away for good.

Hassan's plan was to cross the border and find a place to hide, but now he doesn’t even know if that is possible. He still regrets not turning back and finishes the job. He will come back, he promised himself. Even if he has to be a beggar in Thailand for years, he promised that he would come back for that boy.

He would get his revenge for his only daughter and skin that bastard Azlan alive. If only he had hit the right kid.

“Wrong boy Hassan. Wrong boy,”

_________________________________________________________________________________

IPOH: The suspect for the hit and run case in that killed a student in front of a school in Subang two days ago was found dead last night on Jalan Maling with a large amount of drugs in his possession. He was found by the locals in a location more than 200 kilometres from where he lives, and declared to be dead due to overdosing on drugs by Assistant Commissioner Chu Kai Sok.

"This is an example of a good connection within the police," according to him.

He was first missing from his house after he called the police, informing that his daughter had just committed suicide. He was then involved in an accident in front of SMK Taman Indah that killed Amir Hafiz bin Khalid Romzi, 15 and escaped from the scene in a Proton Waja.

He is suspected to be under the influence of drugs during the accident. According to the neighbors, he worked night shift most of the time and used the drugs to help him stay up. His daughter's suicide is said to be caused by the depression due to his recent divorce.

_________________________________________________________________________________

"These reporters are so fucking good. Right? And believe me they know how to get paid right too,"

"I was thinking about killing you along with him boy, but you really remind me of Amir every time I look at you,"

"Whiskey? You?" Datuk Khalid's voice then echoes on and on in the spacious office. The two other people in it never said anything yet.

Inspector Wahab nods. Maybe some whisky can help him to forget what happened last night. He needs a clear mind to plan his dream retirement.

Azlan keeps on running his dead eyes on the article again and again while ignoring Datuk Khalid. He is now aware of the fact that it doesn’t matter if he tells everyone the truth, everyone would still believe what is written in the newspaper. Hell, they would cite it. He should have said thank you to Datuk Khalid as his mother told him to, but he doubts that he would remember it when he got sober.

"Everyone is a killer. Mine is just an unfortunate accident,"

"I did not just kill three people. I did not kill Amir. I’m innocent for God sake,”

He put down the newspaper, and shifts his gaze towards the book racks. He then tries to make meaning out of the scattered vertical titles on his left.

"What's his name Wahab? Hassan right?" Inspector Wahab nods again as he put down his now empty glass.

"I asked him kid, why did you kill my son? Before he even answered I stepped on his face again and again until I realized I was jumping on him! Like on a trampoline you know? His ribs caved in when they picked him up! Feels good you know. Feels good,"

"No guns kid. No guns, just plain old hiking boots"
"Can you believe that he's walking to Thailand? Crazy right?"

"We were supposed to be in England now my son,"

And Datuk Khalid goes on and on.

Azlan finished his search for meaning in the book racks, and turn his head towards Datuk Khalid, and he sees what Amir would one day turns out to be, if he were destined to live long enough but he’s now dead before all that could happen. Datuk Khalid has drunkenly mistaken Azlan for Amir, as he slips deeper into the alcohol.

Inspector Wahab asks for another drink, as he tries not to think of how he could postpone his plan to sell his lands in Kedah. In another years maybe, for he now have more than what he planned for. Hell, with the money Datuk Khalid just paid him he could book a ticket to Mecca and never come back. Maybe the sight of the Kaabah would somehow help him to forget Hassan's face.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Hana can't stop looking at herself in the mirror. The diet plan she promoted on Facebook really works. The 3 kilos she just lost really shows.

"This is so much better than exercise," she turns around and around looking at her own reflection. Her young curves are now exactly in between perfections, as other girls had told her. She can't help not to notice how Amir was looking at her all the time, and she feels loved. But it is not Amir that she wants. She’s not into rich boys and their whole pompous charade.

After around half an hour worth of gossiping with her mum on the phone, she decided to take a bath before she gets to bed. As she feels the water dripping all over her, she tries her best not to think of Azlan and his majestic moves on the field.

It's like he had a third eye high in the sky, reading way before each of his opponents acts, mercilessly scoring goals after goals. One after another he takes everything from his inferior enemies and comrades. Goals after goals, like an angry god punishing weak mortals. When the whistle blows she would come running down the field towards him and celebrate his glory in his arms. Around them are their kids, miniature Azlans ranging from 3 to 9 years old.

The sound of the beeping rice cooker wakes Hana up from her midnight daydream. She then scrutinize the food in the refrigerator to make sure that it would still be good when his dad got back from his night shift. After double checking the locks on her front door, she sprints with all her might towards her bedroom and dives into her bed. As she lifts her laptop onto her tummy, she notices a notification icon on her Facebook, and her heart stops beating for a fracture of a second.

"Azlan Rooney,"

mike and kirk against the world

"So em. You just lie down for 8 hours and do nothing?" Kirkunoia or whatever his name asked again for god knows how many times he had asked me the same question.

"Yes. I need to sleep now or else my mum's gonna know that I've been up all night when she tries to wake me up in the morning. I got a quiz tomorrow, then I'll come home and bring you to the library. Now lets go to sleep Kirk. Goodnight"

"Lying down like this for more than 5 hours will slow down the flow of the fluids in my body, and its not good for my system in the long run. Why do human need to do this? Can you tell me the reason Mike" oh my god.

"Kirk. Just close your eyes. Its 2 already"

_____________________________________________________________________________

---

"Mike. Mike. Are you unconscious? I can feel your heartbeat but your brainwave suggest that it is in an inactive state" what the fuck. I cant see the clock. My eyes are too blurry.

"Is it okay to stay like this? I can't actually defend both of us in my current state. I think we both need to stay alert when it is dark outside"

"What the fuck Kirk. What the fuck. Its only 3 and I got quiz tomorrow you freaking blob. My mums gonna kill me if she hear us talking and we gonna have to let the military take you and chop you to pieces in their lab. So just shut the fuck up, close your eyes, and go get some fucking sleep you ugly little shit" there, I said it. Hope Kirk knew already that ugliness is a subjective thing. He begin to make this weird expression on his face- if you could call it a face- as if he desperately tries to imitate human's sad expression. He failed in my opinion. Okay, okay. I know I'm being too harsh on him but its 3 AM for god sake.

"Ok Kirk. Promise me that we're gonna sleep after this"

"Promise?" Kirk nods. Of all things, this guy surely is a fast learner.

"Ehem. Here, on earth we have this thing called sleep, which what I was doing when you woke me up just now. All living things, ughghg animals, need to get themselves some good hours of rest for themselves after a long day of hard work. Cats, dogs, birds, my mum, me. There is a big switch in our brain and we just enjoy turning it off at the end of the day. When we sleep we don't really give a shit about what is happening around us, we deal with things when we wake up the next day. We just don't give a shit okay? We can't see, hear, smell or feel anything but we just don't care. Hell, I wish I would be dead in my sleep one day because I wont feel anything then" Kirk nods again and again. I'm sure that he would have the general idea by now. Invasion is the best when we are sleeping.

"So any question before we go to sleep?"

"How do you guys do it?" I wanna die. Fuck this.

"Just count the sheep Kirk. One sheep, two sheep, three sheep. Do you know what a sheep is?" a tentacle sprout from Kirk's head, and like in all the movies I just accept my death.

"Oh my god Kirk. What the fuck is that I'm sorry Kirk. DONT KILL ME I'M SORRYY!!!!!!!

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I woke up after a few knocks on the door. I had the weirdest dream last night I feel like I never sleep. I remove the disgusting giant suction cup on my head made of one of Kirk's limb and wake him up. He's not waking up after the first try so I decided to draw something on his face, celebrating his first time having a sleep. This could be a breakthrough for his kind. I'm not sure if he had the same dream I had last night.

"What" he looks totally different. Like he had lose all the life in his eyes, all sucked away from last night.

"Are you okay Kirk? You look different" like somebody who just got the worse hangover ever.

"Why do we have to wake up. I don't want to wake up. Lets get back to sleep Mike" "I can't get up I am already used to levitating"

"I can't Kirk. I got a quiz, then we can go to the library"

"Library can go to hell" what?

"Lets get back to sleep Mike"

4th wall? Never heard of it.

God is never a good writer. Imagine having to write, God-knows how many stories, one could be unable to handle all the expectations and deadlines even if he is the ultimate being. Too busy with his work, he created a formula. A simple, repeatable formula that would produce billions and billions of "unique" stories by changing a few bits here and there. Switch the gender, pick a new place, different time and wohoo here's your insignificant snowflake of life. It starts from the womb and end with your death. Nothing more than that except for some anomalies that would bring you a Nobel Prize or having you leading a genocide, but most of the time you'll end up being an average human. Eat, sleep, fuck and die. The writer can sit back in his eternal holiday.

But like every mass produced goods, there must be some failed products doesn't matter if you're a God. But God, being as perfect as he is, rarely made a mistake as I had never in my whole lifetime met an unorthodox character like me. All of us are heroes in our own life, sidekicks to our friends, and villains to our enemies. Most of our genres are similar, typical human life ranging from comedy to tragedy. We all have our stages, we all have our time. But I am different. I had all the time. All the knowledge about the stages, the lights, the script, the storyline. Hell, I am the director. I was the only one able to watch all the shows, all the gags as it unfold in the same predictable sequence. It all ends with death.

From the moment I was born I knew when I was going to die. I live my death the first day I was born, and have it all on reverse in a day. I knew already how it feel and how it would made me feel, but I just need to do it. I wish it would make me feel human but it never. I am here, now and then. Swimming in all the directions in the river of time. Then I decided to play God, to change my life a bit here and there. I fucked with a lot of things again and again. The sequence, the people, the place. I had all the time in my life to do all the things I can.

I made my parents move to all the countries, even though I knew I can't find God. I've married countless women for the hope that my kids would inherit my anomaly, but they never did. I've tried every different religion I could find, but no God could help me escape this endless loop. I've lead wars on every continent. I've found cure for cosmic cancer in Mars. I've live a life doing nothing but lying down on my bed pretending I'm retarded. I've destroyed earth three times in different nuclear wars. I've lead the biggest drug cartel world has ever seen. I've travel beyond the flow and become a god in different times, until I left a permanent mark causing men from different corners of earth to seek about the truth of who am I. Then I erased it all and starts again from the womb.

After, God-knows how many times I start to wonder what do they see when they are dead. What do they get for all their lies. How do they pay for all their sins because I would never know. I could never see afterlife because my life never ends. Its just another curtain fall and another play for the day. I wish that I am God, but I've always knew I'm not. Because if I am, I could have the choice to end this. I don't.