Or So They Say

Introduction:

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.”

“Read that again please.

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.”

“And that’s the beginning of your story?
"

“Uh-huh.”

“And who is ‘they’ ”?

"Um, well, scientists I guess.”

“And you think the scientists are wrong?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“Just where are you headed with this?”

“Uh, I’m not sure. It seemed cool when I wrote it.”

“So you thought a good way to start a story would be to imply that somehow the laws of physics would be broken.”

“I don’t know. I just…. Should I start over?”

——————————————————————————————————————-

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Milo Robertson stared at the screen of his computer and nibbled on another potato chip. At the moment it seemed like a very ugly, bad, stupid, pointless sentence. But he was stuck with it. At least for now. Professor Grazer had told him to keep it. He had finished up the very public conversation by telling Milo to write the next four sentences for tomorrow. The professor had then moved on to rip someone else a new one.

Milo pondered the empty bag of potato chips and looked at what he had written. Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. He had heard that if you dropped acid time slowed down. He began to wonder if the potato chips were laced with drugs. He was sweating profusely and his hands were clammy. Thinking about it, it occurred to him that the only thing people seem to do profusely is sweat. Do they smile profusely or eat profusely or play basketball profusely? No, he thought, they don’t. Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. This sentence was making him very angry. And thirsty.

Milo jolted awake with a start. He sat up and wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth with his palm. He rubbed his eyes and focused on his current screen-saver, the Cat’s Eye Nebula. He clicked to his document and one lonely sentence stared back at him.

He thought back to the lovely fall day when he had signed up online for second quarter classes. He remembered his exact thought. “Creative Writing. How hard can that be?”

“Don’t pee your pants Milo. It’s just one class. One hour. Plus, Grazer is an asshole. Everybody knows that.” Milo stared thoughtfully at Carmine. Funny, flashy and forthright with hair like Jason Momoa, Carmine was Mr. Popular and In Demand Freshmen Numero Uno. Milo felt lucky to be his roommate.

“You make it sound like no big deal” groaned Milo.

“Dude! That’s because it’s no big deal. Now get your bulky butt over to Hoveland Hall and face the music. You did the assignment, right?”

Sigh. “Yeah.”

“Then freakin’ relax. Instead of worrying about Creative Writing you should be thinking how to talk cute little whatsername over in Gomfrey into some Creative Woohoo!

Milo picked up his backpack and slung it over his left shoulder. Carmine patted him on the back. “Live through this and I’ll get you drunk tonight at Alfonzo’s.”

Milo glanced back at his pal. “I can’t drink.”

“Yes you can! I’ve seen you. Have a little faith in yourself.” Milo grinned and shrugged.

He tried to make himself invisible as he walked into the room, but he wasn’t built for invisibility. Also, as he slid by he bumped the leg of the desk some girl was sitting in and almost knocked over her water bottle. After the shuffling of backpacks and devices and such had died down Professor Grazer tapped his index finger to his lips and lifted his eyes to the ceiling, apparently pondering. “You in the back corner. Milo, isn’t it?”

Milo unslouched and touched his hand to his computer. “Yes.”

“Why don’t you get us started?” Things were playing out exactly as Milo had feared.

“Ok.”

“What was your first sentence again?”

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say.”

Grazer smiled a smug little smile. “Ah, yes, how could I forget.” He straightened his blue plaid ascot ever so slightly and continued. “Please give us the next few sentences.”

Milo had decided it would be best to read what he had written in a loud clear voice so he wouldn’t have to suffer the embarrassment of having to repeat himself. He stood up. He would just pretend to be confident. Clearly, and with conviction he spoke with the raspy voice of a seasoned linguistics researcher. “It took us thirty years to decipher that sentence. Thirty freaking, incredible long years! Of course it wasn’t a written communication. Nor was it directed to us.”

“Huh.” Professor Grazer tilted his head to the side. He raised his chin and looked directly at Milo. “I’m interested. Nice work Mr. Robertson. I look forward to seeing where this goes.” Milo sat down. He didn’t hear a word that was said during the rest of the hour.

At dawn he would have awoken to the chirping of the birds, after lying passed out for the night in the parking lot space reserved for the university president, but he didn’t. Carmine and company had thoughtfully retrieved him from the asphalt around 2:00 a.m., carried him to his dorm room and dumped him without ceremony onto his bed, shoes and all.

At noon, after sufficient quantities of coffee he was again sitting in front of his computer opening a document titled Or So They Say. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to fight back a headache, and prepared to take up just where he left off, but at just that moment something reached through the keyboard and dragged him in, his feet disappearing just as Carmine walked into the room. A pair of very odd creatures dragged him across an aluminum floor, shoved him into a chair and tied him down. They were yellow-green squashed oval shapes except with a pointy end, no appendages, and with nothing resembling a face, but somehow they were able to handle him quite deftly.

As he stared, they hovered in front of him and screamed at him. Well, sort of. They didn’t have mouths and in actuality he couldn’t hear any sounds, but it felt like they were screaming at him. And what were they screaming? Well it felt like they were screaming “Where did you get that sentence!?!” Milo felt as though was losing his grip on thought itself, but in his mind he shouted “What sentence?” To which they replied “Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say!”

And to his own everlasting wonder Milo calmly spoke in the language with no words or sound, “I’m sorry but I’m not at liberty to answer that.”