The Smell from Outer Space

It was 2072.

I’m Dr. Gerard Lana.

I used to work for GloboCore toy company, LLC.

I worked there for a long time inventing toys.

Recently though, they didn’t think my current toys were kid friendly enough. So they fired me.

I didn’t see what was wrong with having a controller for a missile launching satellite, they could use it to defend themselves from bullies, or a ray gun so they could play space cowboys.

But the company called my inventions insane, then called my defense the ravings of a maniac.

I was a ‘mad scientist,’ according to my boss.

“So after twenty years, you’re seriously going to fire me because of a few so called ‘bad ideas?’” I asked Germy, my boss.

I was in shock.

“It’s not just that. Your personality has changed. Everything is an argument with you,” Germy said.

“It is not. You’re clearly just jealous of my talent because you’re just a useless businessman with not a single ounce of intelligence or creativity inside your tiny dumb brain. I invented half of the toys this company currently sells. I’ve earned my keep here, without me this company would be defunct and have nothing,” I said.

Maybe I went over the top, but I didn’t care. Germy was an asshole.

“I expect you to be gone by the end of the day. Pack up your stuff and leave,” Germy said.

“And if I refuse? Then what?” I asked

“Then I call security and have them escort you out,” Germy said smugly.

I wanted to punch him. Instead, I took a breath and walked out.

I’d show them. I’d invent something and sell it myself.

I’d make millions, then knock off all of GloboCores products and sell them for cheaper and put them out of business.

Then I’d call my old boss to laugh at him and tell him all about my new mansion and car collection.

***

I’d been working on a new device for weeks.

I’d finally invented something I thought I could sell, something GloboCore didn’t have and could never invent because I would get patents.

Not that they even had the brains to copy me.

I’ve just invented a Smell-O-Meter, a device so powerful it can smell anything from vast distances.

I got a loan from the bank to manufacture and sell my device. My machine was popular, making me millions.

One of the people who used my device noticed an odd smell, and thanks to fast communications and social media, word spread as to where to point the Smell-O-Meters to find the smell.

People were sickened by the smell, but couldn’t stop smelling it.

People gave up their lives and even social media to sit around smelling the smell all day.

Nobody could explain why this was happening, not even me.

People started to change. Their eyes started glowing, they became radioactive, and far more aggressive than normal.

And yet, they continued to smell this horrible mystery smell that intoxicated them.

Several weeks went by, and people had mutated into zombie like creatures.

They came out at night to feed on anyone who wasn’t addicted to the smell, which was hardly anybody.

I was one of the few who refused to smell the smell out of space. And since I invented the machine that people used to turn into these creatures, I was determined to find a cure.

I tranquilized one of the changelings one night and dragged it back to my house to try and figure out why the smell had changed them, and if it was reversible.

I hooked the person up to anesthesia to keep the mutated monster asleep while I conducted my experiments.

I undressed and examined the body, took X-rays, dilated the eyes and tried half a dozen other experiments with no results.

It wasn’t until I took the toxicology of the patient that I found what I was looking for.

There was a new chemical inside the body that was unidentifiable.

It was slowly changing the body.

My patient twitched and moved. I turned up the anesthesia. He was still moving.

His whole body started shaking. It didn’t seem to matter how much anesthesia I pumped inside of him, his convulsions got worse.

He managed to flip himself over. A small creature tore through the back end of his jeans, like he had given birth to it.

“What the hell?” I shouted.

The creature growled.

“No, get away,” I shouted and backed up into a wall.

The creature exposed long, sharp teeth, hissed at me, then pooped into its hand.

“What the hell?” I screamed.

“Smell…” it said and snarled at me, eyes now glowing red.

“No. No, no no,” I kept repeating.

This must be what the smell from space is, alien dung. They must reproduce by making you smell it, and the alien chemicals seep into your body and change you, turning you into a mutant and forcing you to give birth to another alien.

“Smell. Smell now,” it said and got closer and closer.

“Please, no,” I begged.

It walked right up to me, climbed up my body, and despite my efforts to push it off, shoved its alien poop in my face.

“Nnnoooooooooo,” I screamed.

Despite the odious stink, I was intoxicated.

I couldn’t stop smelling it.

The alien ran off.

The man stood up and said, “man, do I feel relieved.”

The man growled, pounded his chest, and ran off into the night just like the anus alien.

I put the poop in the bag. I knew I needed to find a cure for this alien disease that was turning everyone into butt birth giving mutants, but every time I attempted to further analyze my left over mutant samples for a potential cure, I was distracted by the smell of the poop. What was once a horrible smell was now wonderful. Oh god, was it ever intoxicating.

Eventually, I was sitting around all day smelling the foul smell, just like everybody else.

Weeks went by. I felt myself changing day by day.

Eventually, I was a mutant too. I felt pains in my stomach.

I went to my toilet, pulled down my jeans, bent over, then squeezed a cute little baby alien out of my anus.

The alien went right to the toilet and took a nice big dump.

It grabbed a handful of poop then ran out of my house in search of new victims.

I hated that my invention, the Smell-O-Meter, was the cause of all this.

The worst part was, now that I was stuck at home smelling alien poop all day, I don’t think I’d ever find a cure.