Chronicle XXV - U.F.Otis

Otis pressed his hand into a panel of the craft to hit the brakes high above Big City, where he preferred to sleep. The city lights below were better to look at during the night than the burnt farmhouse he used to return to, as if there was any reason to. Something was keeping him awake, however. He felt as if something was watching him. That alone wasn’t unusual; people would notice him and brush it off as a U.F.O. sighting regularly. This felt like a motivated observer.

Aboard the ship was a scanning module, which Otis had played with in the past, but had no real idea how to use effectively. To soothe his concern of being watched, he used it anyway. The scan spanned the entire city, showing him every heat signature. If there were any threats, it would detect them. He was able to sleep without issue, trusting the ship was accurate.

When morning came, Otis awoke to the sound of a loud whirring sound, like his own ship made when moving, but he was stationary. A shadow fell over him and a large section of Big City. The darkness kept on growing and the noise got louder each second. Whatever it was, it was coming from above. Otis was not used to being below the danger.

A gigantic, stake-shaped object accelerated towards the ground right past where Otis hovered, forcing him to reposition quickly. As it passed him on its way down, he saw on top a glossy black dome on a platform. It was a rather strange object, not like anything he’d seen on Earth or on the ship that once abducted him. He used the scanner aboard his craft to gather any info he could on the object as it penetrated the ground below. It didn’t detect any heat in the object at all. The entire structure, which was roughly the height of a ten story building, appeared to be lifeless.

People scrambled running from the spike as it pushed its way further into the stone below. Luckily for the citizens, it landed perfectly on a vacant lot where a pizza shop was once dissolved. Otis remembered the restaurant as some of the worst garbage he’d ever eaten. He considered this otherworldly object a great improvement. Still, it was foreign and potentially dangerous, so he kept his distance to see what it would do.

The first on the scene was not the police, but a street level hero named CluckTower. Otis rolled his eyes as an army of chickens entered the formation of a clocktower. It was the hero’s only real ability other than telling the time. Their time zone was always wrong, though. Once they assembled to the height of the dome, Otis watched closely as CluckTower extended a wing out to touch the surface of the black dome.

CluckTower poked the dome with a feather and it undulated like a gelatinous blob before returning to a rigid form. A portion of the chickens near the top freaked out when it moved and floated to the bottom of the tower. In its second attempt, CT shot three chickens at the blob. All three were deflected gently, again causing the dome to wobble. The chickens comprising the arms of the clock struck noon. A chicken was shot out the front to ‘cuckoo’, signaling midday. Such a loud alarm sent the others into a panic - a fatal flaw in CluckTower’s ability. The chickens all dispersed and Otis was left to investigate on his own.

Waves of police and black-suited agents took turns checking out the strange phenomenon. The farmer hovered above, cloaked to avoid any conflict with the authorities. All manner of tests were run on the solid black stake that was driven into the ground. Equipment arrived for everyone to do what CluckTower had done - unsuccessfully study the dome. It did seem that the base was simply structural, the black dome was the significant part of the object. If there was anything within, it would be on the top, inside the stiff goo.

Once everyone finished their own assessments, the object was left alone. It was night by then, so Otis took the opportunity to see it for himself. He remained cloaked and took his ship beside the dome. He groaned as he reached back to grab his pitchfork. With the three prongs, he tapped the film covering the dome. Unlike anyone he watched before, the substance hardened to his prodding. The pitchfork was stuck in the skin of the dome. Otis refused to let the object take his only weapon besides the craft. He held on tight as the dome pulled at the pitchfork. The spaceship was pulled towards the dome and suddenly, Otis found himself inside of it.

Within the dome, Otis was able to see the outside world clearly. It was empty, however. There were no beings inside. There was no technology as far as he could see. The ship’s scanner was right; it was devoid of heat signatures. Without much to look at, Otis piloted the ship back towards the wall. It denied his exit. It undulated as it did when CluckTower tried to enter, bouncing him back into the center of the circular space. Not only was it not allowing him to leave - it also began to shrink around him.

The black dome wrapped itself around Otis’ craft until it was fully covered. The ground began to shake as the object began to rise back into the sky, taking the farmer with it. Otis was running low on air, though kept his cool. He pressed every possible button and pulled every lever to see if the ship could provide any defense against the netting. From the control panel came a blaster like what the aliens had. Otis took it and started blasting the black film that was thin over the window opening. No damage was done, and the farmer ran out of air. He exited Earth’s atmosphere, losing consciousness as he reached around for more controls.

“U.F.Otis?” someone called out, waking up the hero.

Otis awoke on the floor of a fancy home, looking up at none other than Charles Masters. He looked to his right and saw his ship being tinkered with by a little worker.

“Don’t touch that.” he said to the little guy, who ignored him. He looked at Charles to repeat the request.

“Leave it.” Charles commanded his worker. He looked back at Otis. “We’ve been tracking that object for a long time. How did you penetrate the dome?”

“What’s it matter?” Otis replied, crotchety.

“It matters.” Charles assured the farmer, showing little care for his well-being.

A large, shadowy figure stood across the room, Otis thought he recognized it, but was a little hazy from being unconscious. It walked forward and revealed itself.

“Dark Duperman?” Otis asked.

“Call me what you will. You needed rescuing… and who was there. Not your friend. We were.” DD replied.

“I assumed you two would be acquainted by now.” Charles chimed in. “We can discuss later. Get some rest, you’re clearly still disoriented.”

Otis agreed. His head was spinning and he needed to relax for a bit. Before he fell asleep, he heard the others talking in the other room. The only words he could make out were, “He’ll come, you’ll see.”