Toy Planets
by
James Bishop
Copyright © 2012 by James Bishop
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are derived from the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Faith Carroll
Chapter 1
Without a morsel of fingernail remaining, Latome watched Frecarei make another pass along the translucent cube before them. Close Explosions from within the cube lit vibrant circles on Frecarei’s greasy, black hair as he pranced across the marbled floor.
Satisfied, Frecarei turned to Latome and widened his smirk.
"Mine is so much more advanced." said Frecarei.
They stood in a dark room with a massive cube at its center, a narrow walkway encircled it. A small, metal door led out of the room and Latome hoped to be through it soon.
"Your entire universe is nearly dead. How is this even possible?"
"I know, I just wish—"
"Where is your best galaxy? How many planets have life?" said Frecarei, moving closer to the cube and squinting his eyes, "I don’t see much activity at all."
"Well. . ."
"No wait, I see something. Something small, but. . ."
"Yea, that’s my best galaxy. A couple planets have started." said Latome.
"Only two? That’s amazing. What stage are they in?"
"They’re both still listed as Stage One, but they have space programs and have left the gravitation of their home planets. This one has even landed on their moon." said Latome pointing to a small, blue planet thrusting through space.
"Hmm, yeah, well you need to do something with this mess, this is ridiculous. Aren’t you embarrassed?"
Latome nodded his head and surveyed the floor around their feet.
"I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know. . . "
"Well, lucky for you, I’m here. I think it would be safe to say I could teach you a few things. You can try to force technology onto your planets, but I wouldn’t recommend it for you—it is hard to do. Entire species can die from stress, did you know that? You’ve let these planets alone for so long I’m not sure anything can be done. You could create new, real planets. For someone with your skills I think that would be best, you know?"
A hot wave of energy began somewhere in the middle of Latome’s head and then radiated to his arms and legs, and farther to the whole of his body, creating a vibrant, red shell on top of his skin. Pick him! Pick him! sounded through his head. He covered his hot ears with his pale hands and looked to Frecarei.
The ears hurt the most, and they were the top prize. Exhilarated children would form a violent circle around him, and then tug and twist the brightest and most vulnerable protrusions of his face and body. Pick him, Pick him, their shrill voices would begin, the tugging came soon after. It was, indeed, Frecarei who correlated Latome’s fits of embarrassment to the botun fruit—a fruit which glows red as it is ready to be picked.
"Stop doing that! Stop acting like an idiot all the time. Don’t you want to be normal?"
Latome lifted his eyes to meet Frecarei, "I do, but. . ."
"Latome, I didn’t come here today to make fun of you, or make you feel bad. Father sent me to try my best to teach you acceptable behavior. He is so embarrassed of you he pretends to not even hear your name," Frecarei moved even closer to Latome and grasped his now-warm arms, "he doesn’t expect much Latome, he knows of your unfortunate upbringing. He knows his brother was no dad."
"I don’t want to be a failure. I don’t."
"I don’t think you have much of a choice Latome, but you can try to hide it a little? For father?"
"Yes."
"Wonderful, I’m leaving. Father is taking me and three friends to the race tonight," said Frecarei as he skipped to the door. "I’ll see you—I mean, you’ll see me tomorrow at school."
The door, as it always did when Frecarei left, slammed and sealed. With time Latome regained his pale color and his normal temperature returned.
Latome didn’t like to interfere with his creations; he liked to see what they could do by themselves. Although this process was slow, it guaranteed entire species would not be destroyed or maimed by careless mistakes or cruel experiments.
However, that night Latome thought of many things: his father, the cube, his own life, but Frecarei and the others at school, he thought of most.
Why do they hate me? What did I do?
His head turned toward the stagnant Universe before him.
It’s not what I’ve done; it’s what I haven’t done.