You return from your space voyage to a world that is familiar. After so long in the void, it is a relief to return to your childhood home, and see your mother pour sugar into a familiar mug with the familiar smell of tea.
But that is not your mother. That is not the mug you know, nor is this the home you remember. This is not your world. You cannot leave.
It wants something. It called to you across the void to bring you here. You think at first it is money. Your mother wants money from you. That’s a simple enough thought to process, and that’s how you know its not money that it wants. Why would something that can so cleverly fabricate this facade for you, specifically, need something as trivial as money?
You lie in a shadow of your childhood bed and feign sleep. Fear keeps you awake and alert. It said goodnight but you know it is out there, just beyond the lip of the closed doorway, listening. Your ship is far away. It may have been destroyed by now.
You realise that it wants something of value. It lets slip some intent when it brushes by the subject of your time in space. It isn’t interested in that. What it is interested in, is your childhood.
‘Do you remember?’ it says. ‘I forget. Tell me about it. Tell me what you remember of the world.’
It leans in hungrily. It is not your mother.
Paddy Dobson
27th June 2023