March 23, 2025 • 53 mins
Abby is so thrilled to present three haunting space horror themed stories.
Encounter was written and narrated by Nick Young. You can follow Nick on Instagram @zenblues and on X: @NickYou87166031.
Toy Robot was written by S.S. Fitzgerald and narrated by Jon C Cook. Follow S.S. Fitzgerald on X: @S_S_Fitzgerald. And listen to the Fadó podcast to hear more of Jon's dreamy voice on demand.
A Piece of The Sky was written by Warren Benedetto and narrated by Michael Crosa. Check our Warren's website here: https://warrenbenedetto.com.
Get Lunatics Merch here. Join the discussion on Discord. Check out Abby's book Horror Stories. Available in eBook and paperback. Music by Michaela Papa, Alan Kudan & Jordan Moser. Poster Art by Pilar Keprta @pilar.kep.
Follow us on TikTok, X, Instragram and YouTube.
Join the conversation on Discord. Support us on Patreon.
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Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:16):
Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode
of the Lunatics Radio Hourpodcast.
Lunatics Radio Hour podcast.
I'm your host, Abbey Branker,and today I am so excited to
present part one of two spacehorror story episodes.
In total, we have fiveexcellent haunting stories that
are set in space or have to dowith outer space in some
(00:37):
horrifying way, and if youmissed our two-part deep dive
into the history of space horror, then go check that out first,
because I think a lot of thethemes that I'm going to
highlight today when we listento these stories really can be
traced back in a lot of ways tokind of how this genre came
together and started.
This is absolutely one of myfavorite parts of this podcast
(00:57):
being able to really showcasethe talented and incredible
writers that are in thiscommunity.
So let's kick things off strong.
Today we have three stories inthis episode.
I'm really incredibly excitedand honored for this first story
which comes to us by Nick Young, and it is the first time that
we are featuring Nick's work onthe podcast, and not only that,
(01:18):
he recorded and narrated thisstory as well.
It's really really wonderful.
I love it so much.
I think once the story starts,you will all understand why I
have an affinity for it, butlet's let Nick take it away.
Encounter written in red byNick Young.
Speaker 3 (01:41):
He had been pacing the floor before the fire for
the better part of an hour,muttering and fortifying himself
with brandy.
At last he threw himself intothe chair at his writing desk
and, with an unsteady hand, tookup his pen.
Days and longer nights ofincreasing consternation within
(02:03):
my soul, but I can no longer goon without revealing what I know
, what I myself have endured,and pleading with any horrendous
account to heed its warning.
As I sit, well past themidnight hour, the fire ebbing
and the candle guttering, myinner turmoil is matched by the
ferocity of a storm without thatbatters unabated the brick and
(02:25):
stone of my home.
The memories of my travail haveinstigated a pain that pounds
relentlessly within my skull,its intensity growing seemingly
by the minute.
It has driven me to the brink.
God help me, forgive my scrawl.
As I hasten to record thistestament.
I pray that my hand does notfail me.
(02:46):
It is the autumn of the year ofour Lord, 1878.
My name is Trevor Highsmith,thirty-two years of age and, by
profession, a solicitor.
Until a fortnight ago, I hadresided in Ascot with my wife
Lisbeth and our adopted daughter.
Ours had been a quiet life.
We kept largely to ourselves,with only a small number of
(03:07):
friends in our social circle.
To my knowledge, we never gaveour neighbors any grounds for
quarrel.
Those who know me or with whomI have had professional
intercourse will attest that Ihave demonstrated a sound mind,
being given neither to fantasynor dissembling.
Why am I at pains to enumeratethese points?
Because, following theextraordinary events I am about
(03:29):
to relate, the world shifted onits axis and I fear without the
proper preamble, those who readthis would be quite forgiven for
dismissing my story out of handas too outlandish to be taken
with any degree of seriousness.
What has ensnared me commencedfive months ago.
It was a midweek evening.
Dusk had fallen as I was makingmy way home in a hired handsome
(03:52):
after dinner with a client inLondon.
Spring flooding had washed awaya bridge on the main road to
Ascot, requiring the driver totake a more circuitous route
through a forested section ofthe countryside.
The night air had grown chill,so I drew a coverlet about my
legs and dozed to the rhythm ofthe horse's hooves and gentle
rocking of the carriage.
After a time it is impossiblefor me to state of what duration
(04:16):
I awoke with a start, awarethat the handsome was no longer
moving In the illumination castdown by the full moon.
I was struck by the oddappearance of the horse, for the
animal was frozen in mid-stride.
Astonished, I gave my head avigorous shake, thinking I was
yet in a state of somnolence.
Satisfied that this was not thecase, I turned my attention to
(04:39):
the driver.
Why have we stopped?
I called out.
Receiving no reply, I renewedmy query "'Driver, what is the
meaning of this?
Why are we not moving'.
Growing annoyed at again beingmet with silence, I threw aside
the coverlet and alit from thecarriage.
What I beheld was no lessarresting than my first sight of
(04:59):
the horse, for the driver tooappeared in a state of suspended
animation, his mouth partiallyopened, right arm extended, with
the rawhide whip curled inmid-crack.
What was before my eyes at thatmoment I could not comprehend,
so utterly singular was it, andso too my surroundings.
We were stopped in a ratherlarge glade encircled by dense
(05:22):
woods, and I swiftly becameaware of the profound silence in
which I was enwrapped.
It was not mere quietude, as ifthe forest creatures had, at
that moment, chosen to mutetheir nocturnal chorus.
Rather, this was a complete andtotal absence of sound, as if,
like a vacuum apparatus removesthe oxygen from a chamber.
(05:42):
It had been totally extractedfrom the air.
What was happening to me?
I had no time for speculationbefore I was taken aback once
again.
The night had been cloudless,the moon at its fullest, but as
I stood, a darkness began todescend over the landscape.
When I became aware of it, Ilooked up to behold a huge
(06:04):
shadow gliding slowly from westto east, gradually obscuring the
moon and coming to rest, Ijudged, perhaps a hundred feet
directly above me.
At first I took it to be acloud, but I soon realized it
was no natural phenomenon, forit bore the distinct outline of
an object out of the bounds ofnature.
It possessed a leading edgethat was curved, a curvature
(06:27):
which continued around itsentirety, giving the whole an
ovoid aspect, and its size wasquite remarkable, overspreading
the whole of the glade.
Moreover, its appearance wasunaccompanied by the slightest
sound.
Again, I had the gravest doubtthat I could trust what my
senses were communicating to me.
Reason told me I was not in thegrip of a dream state, unless
(06:50):
one of a vividness unprecedentedin my experience.
Perhaps then, by some means, Ihad fallen into an alternate
reality.
In my reading, I had touchedupon discussions of the
existence of such worlds in oneor two journals of speculative
science, but had theretoforegiven them scant credence.
It was at that moment I wastouched by a new sensation, a
(07:13):
prickliness that began with thetiny hairs on the back of my
neck.
The feeling crept higher, anddid so with such force as to
knock the hat from my head.
Simultaneously, as my eyes weretrained skyward and here I beg
your forbearance a space openedin the inky shadow, a square of
medium size, instantlypermitting a shaft of cold white
(07:36):
light to descend around me andbegin to draw me upward.
Stunned, but totally immobile,I marked my progress as I was
lifted higher and higher towardthe opening in the icy, dazzling
light.
At that moment, consciousnessslipped from me After a time of
such duration as was impossiblefor me to determine.
(07:56):
My awareness returned, but onlydimly.
The white light was now allenveloping, palpable, buoying me
up in a state of suspension.
Since there were no discerniblefeatures about me, it was
impossible to orient my body inspace, though I had the distinct
feeling of being supine.
Now arrives the most fantasticalepisode of this story.
(08:19):
Presently still in a kind oftwilight, consciousness hovering
above my own, I beheld twofaces possessing physiognomies
of the most singular sort ovalin shape, slate in color and
perfectly smooth, with largecoal-black round eyes, deep set
below an outsized head thatappeared to enclose an enormous
(08:40):
brain.
There was little in the way ofa nose, save for two pinhole
nostrils.
The mouth, such as there wasone, was but a thin slit which
curved downward at each end.
These were strikingcountenances indeed, and both
wore masks of immobility.
I detected no movement of anykind upon them.
Yet these creatures appeared tocommunicate with each other, of
(09:02):
that I did not doubt.
As to the manner, I have noother explanation than that.
I did not doubt.
As to the manner, I have noother explanation than that they
accomplished it through someform of telepathic transmission.
At length, the figures movedaway out of my line of vision,
yet I felt they remained nearby,and anon, one of the faces,
again loomed above my own.
He, it seemed to bore into myeyes with its own, and as it
(09:26):
happened, I witnessed atransformation.
The pupils of deep cobalt blueappeared within glittering
silvery irises that spun in aclockwise direction, emitting
crystalline sparks.
At that very moment I heard,not without but within my head,
the words not without but withinmy head, the words you are the
chosen.
Immediately, I became aware ofa wholly new sensation, one I am
(09:54):
at pains to describe with theutmost modesty.
Below my waist, I began to feela distinct thrilling and
excitation normally associatedwith intimate contact with
someone of the opposite sex.
How this was being accomplishedI could not say, nor had I any
inkling why, but it wasnonetheless very real.
I found myself powerless in itsgrip, as a crescendo of arousal
(10:15):
washed over me and I againslipped into unconsciousness.
I was jarred back to wakefulnessby the carriage coming to an
abrupt halt in front of my home.
In her harness, I heard thegrey dapple snort and paw the
brick pavement.
"'beggin' your pardon, guv'nor', the driver said apologetically
, gingerly.
I climbed out of the handsome,sensing the need to get legs
(10:39):
back under me.
"'tell me, driver'.
I began choosing my words withcare.
"'did anything unusualtranspire since we left London'?
"'nary a thing, sir Trip, assmooth as silk, as the saying
goes'.
"'nothing, nothing at all, yousay' "'Only the moon and sky
above and the road below.
(10:59):
"'i paid the man his fare and,with the tip of his cap, he
snapped the whip smartly.
"'and he and the dappled greywere off, leaving me to stand in
utter bewilderment.
My story now leaps ahead throughthe intervening months.
It is time to bring it to itsconclusion.
Eight weeks ago, lisbeth and Ireceived word from the
Stockbridge Home for Orphans,which is situated on the
(11:21):
outskirts of Ascot, that theyhad taken in an infant girl, a
transfer from a similarinstitution in Wales A year
before.
To our dismay, after repeatedattempts to start a family,
lisbeth had been found to bebarren and thus began our search
for a child to adopt.
It was natural to turn to theStockbridge home first, and we
soon established a goodrelationship with Dr Ian Trent,
(11:44):
the director.
But though he strove diligently, he was unable to locate a
suitable candidate for us.
Then, with shocking suddenness,ownership of the home changed
hands and Dr Trent was summarilydismissed and replaced by one
major retired, simon Cawthorn.
The two men could not have beenmore different.
Where Dr Cawthorn, the two mencould not have been more
(12:05):
different.
Where Dr Trent was warm andengaging, cawthorn was icily
remote.
Still, he pledged that hisefforts to find a child for us
would be tireless, and indeedthey quickly bore fruit.
Throughout the long months I hadstriven to put the events of
that spring night behind me,ascribing them to a
hallucinatory state brought onby fatigue, overwork.
Of what had happened I divulgedto no one, not even Elizabeth,
(12:28):
and as time passed, troubled asI had been, I had largely
succeeded in restoring a senseof normality to my life.
The good news of the baby'sarrival I greeted with joy and
hope On the day we were to bringthe child home.
We arrived at Stockbridgepromptly, at the appointed hour,
and were ushered into MajorCawthorn's office.
Quite out of character, hegreeted us effusively and
(12:51):
summoned a nurse withinstructions to fetch the baby.
She came to us unbaptized andwithout a name, the major said
as the nurse entered with thechild but we have called her our
little Rose, mrs Highsmith.
He gestured for the nurse toplace the infant in my wife's
arms.
At that first touch, tearsspilled from Lisbeth's eyes.
(13:12):
Oh, how beautiful, how precious.
She declared.
And Trevor, I believe she bearsthe most uncanny resemblance to
you, darling.
It's almost as if she were yourown here.
Take her and see for yourself'.
With that, lisbeth gently putthe child in my arms and I
looked upon the delicate face ofthe tiny girl.
As I did, I received the shockof my life, for as I gazed into
(13:36):
the child's eyes, theytransformed from deep brown into
the coloration that wasidentical to that of the
creature who had held sway overme the same deep cobalt irises
within spinning, glitteringpupils.
An involuntary cry escaped mylips.
"'you see what I mean, dearest', said Elizabeth.
I looked at her face, so filledwith openness and love.
(13:58):
"'was it possible she did notsee what I beheld'.
"'yes, mr Highsmith, there is adistinct resemblance', major
Cawthorn said, his voicedropping, taking on a flat tone.
"'you are the Chosen' thosewords, my eyes snapped to his,
and God will judge me if I tella falsehood.
They were identical to theChilds and the Aliens'.
(14:21):
It was several hours later thatI regained my senses.
I found myself in my own bed,tended to by my loving wife.
"'why, trevor, you gave us sucha start fading away as you did
in the Major's office?
Fortunately, his attendantswere able to return you here.
Your joy at seeing little Rosewas simply too much, wasn't it,
darling'.
I returned her query with aweak smile and nod of the head.
(14:46):
"'what could I say to her?
How could I tell her therevelation that had struck me
like a bolt of lightning?
When I looked upon the child,and then into Cawthorne's eyes,
it was plain to me that the babyand what had befallen me on the
road to Ascot were inextricablylinked.
I reasoned that the beings whohad abducted me were carrying
(15:06):
out some ghastly reproductiveexperimentation.
What I feared was a diabolicalplan to meld humans with their
own race and populate our worldwith hybrids.
To what end, is it not clear?
I am convinced that the goal isnothing less than achieving
global dominion.
No, I could say nothing toElizabeth, could never confide
(15:28):
in her that the beloved infantshe rocked to sleep each night
was in reality the spawn of arace of beings who were not of
this earth.
Instead, I have held my peaceand striven mightily to place my
life onto an even keel.
Alas, I faltered.
As time went on and I struggledwith my horrible secret.
(15:49):
My behavior grew more erratic.
There were uncharacteristicmood swings, bouts of heavy
drinking, ravings in my sleep.
That alarmed Lisbeth in theextreme.
It finally became too much,leading her to leave with Little
Rose and take up residence withher parents in the city.
Leave with little Rose and takeup residence with her parents
(16:10):
in the city.
Now nothing is left but torecount what I know and to give
voice to my darkest fears.
I pray to the Almighty.
It is not yet too late.
On the edge of exhaustion andwith trembling hand, he laid
aside his pen.
Aware of the brass knocker onthe front door rapping loudly,
incessantly, over the tumult ofthe storm, he rose from his
chair, crossed out of his studyand made his way down the hall
(16:33):
to the home's foyer.
Opening the door, he was met bytwo members of the local
constabulary, their bobbyhelmets and oil-skinned capes
drenched by sheets of rain.
"'trevor Highsmith' one of themen men asked loudly enough to
be heard amidst the howling wind.
Yes, you need to come with ussir.
Come with you.
Why?
For what reason?
(16:54):
It's time, the constablereplied, as both men turned to
face him directly lest he failto see their eyes see their eyes
.
Speaker 1 (17:12):
I am particularly taken with science fiction
stories that take place in thepast, and so Nick's story, of
course, comes to us from 19thcentury England, which is such a
wonderful and rich setting fora story like this.
And I'm sure you figured outthat this is not Nick's first
rodeo as a writer or as anarrator.
So Nick is a retired,award-winning CBS news
correspondent.
His writing has appeared indozens of reviews, journals and
(17:34):
anthologies.
His first novel, deadline, waspublished in the fall of 2023.
He lives outside of Chicago.
You can follow him on Instagramat Zen Blues, and we will leave
his Instagram and Twitterhandles in the description of
this podcast so that you canfind him very, very easily.
And please check out Deadline.
It's next on my to-read list.
But let's talk a little bitabout Encounter, because I love
(17:57):
it so much.
Interestingly enough, a few ofthe stories in this series have
sort of a similar element, whichis that the framing of the
story is somebody recountingevents that happened and telling
that to somebody else.
And I think you know somethingwe've talked about a lot,
especially on our interviewepisodes with Andy, but this
idea of aliens,extraterrestrials, other
(18:20):
dimensional beings, whatever wewant to call them.
But having this otherworldlything or creature actually come
to Earth in modern times wouldcause people to have total
breakdowns because it wouldtotally change their
understanding of reality.
And while that certainly isstill true in 2025, think about
how true that would be in the1800s, right?
(18:43):
And how unprepared that personwould be before really, the
invention of science fiction anda lot of the work that HG Wells
did to start painting thesepictures and telling these
stories that are set in these,you know, places off of Earth or
on Earth, but with beings thatare not from Earth.
So it's just fascinating tothink about that too.
Right, having an encounter backwhen you didn't have a
(19:07):
reference for what was happening, right, or even like any kind
of understanding to say, okay,this is at least similar to
something I've seen in a sci-fimovie.
It would be totally out ofnowhere, it would totally
shatter your understanding ofthe world, the laws of physics,
everything around you.
I also really love one of myfavorite books of all time is
Valette by Charlotte Bronte, andI love stories from that time
(19:31):
period, which this obviouslyfeels reminiscent of, but
because they sort of followpeople a little bit longer, and
even a short story like this,but it's told in a way that's a
little bit biographical.
I suppose it's a little bit ofan epic journey along with a
character, and this feels verymuch like that because, okay, we
have this incident, but then wehave the aftermath of this
incident, which lingers on andon and takes place over time,
(19:53):
and, of course, we just love anystory where somebody really
sort of descends into depressionor madness or paranoia or
whatever.
You know, whatever thatcharacter falls into based on
what's going on around them, andI think it really is also a
character study in some ways,right, and so I love that.
There's this richness to thisstory, and I think, again,
(20:13):
you'll see this with all of thestories that we're going to
feature in this series.
But they're genre pieces, ofcourse, and they're space horror
and some of them are sciencefiction, but they are also
stories about human people andthey all celebrate and work
within themes and emotions anddark, dark emotions and feelings
that most of us can reallyrelate to and understand.
So that's something that Ithink is a major through line
(20:36):
between all of the differentstories that we're going to
feature on this podcast.
And I mean, I don't even haveto say it, but Nick's voice is
unreal.
It's so good, it was sodelightful to listen to Such a
beautiful timbre, such abeautiful voice, thank you.
Thank you, nick.
All right, let's play the nextone.
Speaker 2 (20:58):
Joy Robot, written by SS Fitzgerald, read by John C
Cook.
Speaker 4 (21:08):
SS Fitzgerald, read by John C Cook.
Long tension in the darkamplifies sound.
The half-days between sleep andthe living world cast shadows
that can't exist.
Long dark shadows which moveand consume, muffling screams
from the deepest depths inside.
Voices echo and sounds becomewarnings whispering in the
(21:30):
paranoid mind.
No one can hear you scream here.
Jason Wu's eyes fluttered open.
A blaring noise called him outof the shadows.
Black swirls threw off his eyes.
A single bright white lightfocused in on him.
His eyes burned looking at it.
Jason threw up a hand blockingthe light.
(21:52):
He felt the thick fabric underhim Blinking, burned.
But the images came in.
He was in the dark.
Still, the monitor, the sourceof the light flickered, still
overlooking the waiting stationoutside of the transit system.
He had fallen asleep, waitingin the dark, but it didn't look
like anything had changed and hewould have heard Brent call
(22:14):
back if it had the date readDecember 10th 2137.
Still, he didn't have the timeup.
He had no clue how long he haddozed off.
He didn't have the time up.
He had no clue how long he haddozed off.
The Solomon's Habitation Towerwas in such chaos he couldn't
flip through any of the otherfeeds.
He wasn't sure if they were alldown or if it was an issue on
(22:35):
his end.
The only feed he could get wasthe transit, so he waited
tirelessly.
It was difficult to sleep.
Fear had made it difficult foreveryone to sleep when the
disappearances started.
There was speculation, lots ofspeculation.
(22:56):
Jason almost didn't believe anyof it.
Like the rest, when it gotworse he had begun to suspect
the working Joes.
They had been peculiar from thestart.
When they arrived, he'd beenassigned to assist with their
care and found it unusual.
He was denied access to thecognitive core, especially as
there were known issues withother Weyland-Yutani models
(23:28):
pressing on the working JoesLooking through the dark in the
small, cramped office.
Even here the corners lurkedwith dangerous shadows.
Jason, brent and Drew knewbetter.
They had been near one of theauxiliary escape doors.
They had been shutting downdoors and locked them.
He recalled using his favoritenumber 0340.
He used it to lock one inparticular.
Then they ran into Axel, theweird, wiry, bald jerk only
(23:50):
caring to get his paycheck andleave.
They found him over one of themaps, vandalizing one of the
walls with no future in blackink.
When they confronted him hepulled a gun on them.
They froze.
People had become desperate andscared.
As they had stood there, axel'sface became a look of terror.
He scattered off down the hallin a sprint.
(24:13):
The group turned From one of thehigher maintenance shafts.
Something was emerging Slimepreceded it Like a broken seal.
From above it oozed down.
A wet silicone smell precededit.
A mass of wet, dark machineryfollowed, lowering, controlled
with ease, touching down with amuffled thud.
(24:36):
It rose.
Jason only recalled runningafter that.
Brent was close behind.
As they reached the shuttle,drew stopped dropping to the
panel at the transit station.
The doors shut.
They could see through the port.
Drew pressed the lever down,attempting to seal the door
between the shaft and thetransit station.
(24:56):
The thing moved in blinks inthe dark, the large
industrialized insect handreaching up around Drew's head.
The transit lurched and theywere off, never to see Drew
again.
Jason's stomach nodded withanxiety recalling the scene.
He wasn't even sure what he hadseen.
(25:16):
He wasn't even sure how longago that really was.
The only hard figure of time hereally had was that his
shipping date was a week ago andsomehow that seemed like
another lifetime now.
And now he was alone.
Brent was nowhere to be seen.
Jason had to act and swallowingthe truth proved to be harder
(25:38):
than swallowing the lump in histhroat.
Standing, he shut off themonitor From the desk.
He picked up the awkwardrevolver.
He had never fired a weapon inhis life, let alone in anger at
someone.
He swallowed something lumpy.
Jason straightened hisshoulders and neck.
If he was going to stay alive,he was going to get help back to
(26:00):
as many people as possible.
He stepped towards the door.
It opened with the sterileautomatic hiss and bang most
doors used.
He stepped out into the hall.
The Lorenz Sistek Spire wasshaped like an L which had
fallen on its side, which linkedwith the Siegson communication
area.
People in recent days came hereonly to loot what little was
(26:23):
left before attempting to go tothe lower levels in the hopes a
ship would come and dock.
Since they had sealed the doors, most just became frustrated
and left.
Others would stay, but not forlong.
Groups had formed and if youweren't in then you were hostile
.
The marshals, the failures theywere, were nowhere to be seen.
(26:45):
Jason took the stairs headingdown sweating bullets with each
step.
He never realized how darkeverything seemed to be, how
quiet the area had grown.
The silence and isolationallowed his heartbeat to grow
stronger and louder.
With each step there came abeating like something pounding
against the wall.
Pausing mid-step on the stairs,he realized it was his own ears
(27:08):
pounding away with his heart.
He made it to the bottom of thestairs and stopped.
To his left was tech support,to the right was the lounge.
Bam Jason pressed himselfagainst the wall.
He shook Another two gunshotsrang out.
He waited, just silence.
He waited longer, still nothing.
(27:28):
He crept slinking with eachmovement around the corner Down.
The corridor was dark.
A lit map console glowed in thenext room.
Jason eased himself away fromthe wall as he made his way down
the corridor.
In the room containing the maphe saw a man crouched in an
orange jacket sorting throughthings in a wall locker and
(27:49):
moving them to a bag he had setout.
Jason crouched and continued tocreep, watchful of the
distracted looter.
He edged around and proceededinto the next hall and then into
the room on the left.
More people had been killed outof desperation than he could
count.
There were several controls inthis room.
He knew he could use them tolock the doors, cut off routes.
(28:12):
The thing could use.
He would need a tuner and heknew one had been left.
In the next room.
He passed by the archive'scircular room where a black box
recovered from some long-lostship sat.
Where a black box recoveredfrom some long-lost ship sat.
The next door opened with awhoosh.
Jason stumbled back.
(28:35):
Center of the room sat Don, acommunication technician.
He and Jason had been drinkingbuddies.
They often worked with eachother as he needed the working
Joes to do physical labor andJason often had to assist the
Joes when they had issues.
He was kind and dedicated.
Had to assist the Joes whenthey had issues.
He was kind and dedicated.
Now he sat slumped in a chair.
He'd been shot multiple times,the wounds blossoming from his
white sweater like roses laid onmarble.
Jason couldn't really believethe scene.
(28:58):
Don was there and he wasn't.
Jason again tried to swallow,but his body had stopped
producing saliva.
Crossing the threshold into theroom, the door sealed behind
him.
He avoided looking at Don, butthe accumulating blood made it
(29:19):
difficult to avoid the scenewhich engulfed a quarter of the
room.
Along one of the shutdownsystems, jason saw the tuner he
sought Picking up the device.
He swung right and glimpsedDon's pale, violated face.
Jason flinched at the sight.
His flinch brought hisattention to the right wall.
Jason pushed back his repulsionand moved towards the document
clipped to the wall.
It looked like the roughoutline of schematics for a
(29:42):
flashbang.
Jason and Don had talked abouthow they could make one for a
prank.
This was by far too powerful touse playfully.
But it was missing something aswell.
Don must not have been able tofinish the designs.
Jason took a pen he kept fromhis pocket and drew in the last
piece a sensor node.
It would allow the blasting capto ignite after being thrown
(30:05):
the trigger for the device.
Jason suddenly felt foolish.
He had no idea why he hadcompleted the design.
He was wasting time.
The science part of his brainwas just seeking an escape.
Leaving, he passed the roomwith the black box once more and
back into the small controlstation.
He put his pistol down on thedesk between a coffee cup and a
(30:27):
coaster.
Under a document he saw thehandle to a key card.
Seeing the first few letters,don.
He didn't bother uncovering it,knowing whose name it would be.
He instead focused on what hefelt he needed to do get into
the communication section.
Leaving his pistol there, hemoved to a nearby desk.
(30:48):
He wanted to set a delay on thedoor to lock once he left.
It wasn't hard.
But what would prove hard wouldbe setting it so no one could
reverse it.
Once he left without a key card, he clicked the controls, his
fingers gliding over the keys.
He wasn't as intimatelyfamiliar with every command as
he wished.
Jason never thought he'd behere long enough to need to know
(31:10):
the commands too well.
Now he may not get a chance tolearn anything new.
He heard someone running downthe corridor.
He moved faster, seekinginstead to hide the command
prompt rather than disable it.
The icon fluttered across thevideo screen and disappeared in
pixels.
Jason dropped to his knees,crouching behind the desk.
He cursed himself for havingleft the pistol on the other
(31:33):
side of the room.
Jason heard the person move in.
He didn't dare try to peek outto see who it was.
But then the footsteps wereovershadowed by a heavy thunder
thudding down on the paneledflooring, someone extremely
heavy, as if wearing ancientarmor, barreling down the
corridor.
(31:53):
Papers blew down on Jason.
He clung to the small desk,cowering in fear.
A primal scream justified hisfears.
A woman shrieked right next tohim.
He dared not look, dared notmove.
A woman shrieked right next tohim.
He dared not look, dared notmove.
Thrashing, knocked more papersover onto Jason's side.
A deep, reverberating hiss cameslamming above him.
(32:20):
His eyes stretched in terror.
A hand clung to the edge.
He could only make out thedeath grip of the fingers
clinging to the furniture.
The hand loosened and stayedstill, yet still.
Jason felt a presence,something beyond the fact the
woman was there, yet so far fromhim.
The hand slid limply over theside.
Jason dared to breathe.
A heavy serpent slid throughthe air where he looked.
(32:42):
He gasped.
He held his breath that the airhe required may give him away.
The tail long, slick andarmored.
Yet it glided through the airwith elegance and then whipped
away.
He heard the heavy, thunderingsteps again growing farther away
until he felt alone again.
He counted down his breathsshallow.
(33:04):
He pressed away from the desk.
Jason saw nothing, as if nostruggle or violation of any
sort had occurred.
He pressed up with his legs andmoved.
Jason wanted out of the room,out of this area.
That table and room had becometainted.
He wanted off the installation.
He went straight for the techworkshop Running.
(33:27):
He slammed his keycard againstthe panel, forcing it open.
He pressed through the doorbefore it had slid completely
open, turning and waitingimpatiently for it to shut again
.
With the door shut, he pressedhis keycard to it again, but
this time to access the securitysetting.
He set the door to authorizedpersonnel only.
He ran, hoping that thecreature wasn't smart enough to
(33:49):
use an access tuner or keycard.
In this room there was only oneterminal that stood out, two
screens, each green, with alarger green circle in the
center on display, a thermos,coffee cup folder and calendar
book sat on the white terminalwith the simple plain white
chair.
There was a flight of stairs toJason's left with an overhang
(34:10):
that read Facility Control.
He needed to have the safetylock engaged.
Once he left the area, hetapped away.
Jason had done it often,especially since he had started
to suspect the working Joes ofmalicious intent.
God, how he hated.
Proving his paranoia correct,he tapped.
The only sound he could hearwas the clicking of his keys.
(34:30):
As he got better faster.
Click, click, click, tap, tap,tap, tap, click, click, click,
click.
The ancient IBM-era soundbuzzed on the screen in success.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
He wasn't typing anymore.
Tap, tap, tap.
He wasn't typing anymore.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
From the center of the room aflood of goo flowed down.
(34:52):
Blood in his veins ran cold.
From the access point, the long, slender dome emerged.
He shivered, it drooped.
He crouched in sequence,subservient, unable to breathe.
He edged forward the tubularstructure not reptilian, not
insect, but undeniably primal.
(35:13):
An enlarged body came down intothe room.
The phallic head rose insilence.
Jason moved towards the cornerinto a lower-aft ventilation
shaft.
The creature's back to him.
It stood erect, massive, tallerthan any man he'd met.
It moved confident.
It is the deadliest thing onthe station.
(35:33):
It moved with purpose, not aprowler, but stalking, hunting
indiscriminately.
Jason moved into the shaft,cautious, to avoid his pursuer.
Jason slipped into the vent.
He moved now with a shakingfright in the low, dim confines
of the vent.
He could see the green glow ofthe door before him.
(35:55):
He pushed up out of the ventand up the small flight of
stairs.
The doors clicked with arelieving swoosh that when he
passed through, knowing theywould lock behind him, you do
not have an appointment.
A gargled voice greeted him,his bowels almost dropping their
contents, the milky face of aworking Joe before him.
(36:15):
I know I'm not here for youthis time.
Jason gave a wide berth aroundthe android.
He had no proof.
The working Joes were malicious, but they seemed far too
resistant for androids.
Something was off about them,but he felt relieved.
The creature wouldn't be herewith a working Joe moving about,
he figured, working together tomake a better, safer Sevastopol
(36:39):
, the broken voice said as hepassed.
He paid no mind to it.
The creepy thing could standthere for all eternity eternity
for all he cared.
What he did care about was howthe creature was able to always
sneak up on him.
He needed something to detectit, something that could pick up
movement in the vents or on thefloor Heading down the
corridors.
(36:59):
He knew of a maintenance roomwhere there were parts he could
throw together something.
If I had dreams, I would seeunicorns.
Jason stopped and looked back.
The working Joe stoodstationary looking at him.
The two did not move and theJoe did not say anything further
.
In their silence, jason shookoff the interaction and
(37:22):
continued to the maintenanceroom.
Inside the maintenance roomthere was a single workbench.
Two off monitors sat in theshadowy corners, dust having
collected from neglect.
An old metal fan sat on theopposite end rusting and waiting
for repairs.
A wrench, flathead, screwdriver, lug iron and red monkey wrench
sat nearby, abandoned by theirprevious owner.
(37:44):
There was a toy robot whosegears had given out and several
loose components scattered aboutas well from something else
that had been taken apart.
Opening the bottom drawer,jason found another variety of
parts, the best piece being abattery pack.
Jason took out the battery packand then went to work on the
robot.
With the flathead he pried thehead off.
(38:06):
First he wanted the body.
The body had a small LEDdisplay screen which he could
use.
Then he twisted off the armsand legs.
The unneeded pieces he tossedto the floor.
Behind him he could hear theworking Joe pacing up and down
the corridor.
He stopped and went silent.
The working Joe's steps soundedheavy, but he could also feel
(38:28):
the thudding of his heart.
He went back to work, pryingopen the toy's screen.
He removed the small batteryand from the box removed a
resistor.
He would use the larger batterypack to provide a longer power
source.
Once the resistor was installed, he switched to where the head
had been source.
Once the resistor was installed,he switched to where the head
(38:49):
had been.
The opening was large enough hecould place an HR-110 antenna.
Putting a switch on, he couldmake the antenna receive twice
instead of sending a signal thatwould provide the detection.
Sweat poured from his foreheadan ice-cold droplet in the hot,
claustrophobic room.
He could have sworn.
He just heard something drop.
He waited too scared to turn.
He heard a door open and thepadded steps of the working Joe
(39:12):
moved in the corridor behind him.
He went back to work again.
Jason connected the battery packinto the back.
He flipped the device over andswitched it on.
The screen's background came inblack and the old toy's green
lines showed several boxes.
A circular display came up anda heavy ticking went off.
Jason waved it back and forth.
(39:34):
A whoop went off, indicating itpicked up the movement.
The whoop signaled again.
The ticking drowned it out.
Then again whoop, whoop.
Then ticking.
It was picking up the workingJoe.
It sounded off whoop, whoop,whoop, whoop.
The working Joe was comingcloser down the hall towards him
.
He set the tracker down as hemoved his unneeded tools away.
(39:57):
Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop.
The working Joe was behind him.
He could hear the steps hadstopped, but there was a
rustling.
He was about to turn to facethe ugly, milky face when the
garbled voice spoke what are you?
Jason scrunched his brow at thequestion.
He turned.
(40:17):
A large, dark figure toweredbefore him.
Jason mumbled, quivering a deep, reverberating hiss coming from
within it.
Thick, fleshy lips peeled back.
His legs shook but would notmove.
You are beautiful, sounded theworking Joe.
Speaker 1 (40:43):
And starkly different from our last story.
Right, right, this one takesplace in the future and you may
remember ss fitzgerald, who hasbeen featured on the podcast
before.
If you'd like more informationabout ss fitzgerald, you can
head to ssfitzgeraldnet, and Iwill, of course, leave the links
to follow him on facebook,twitter and instagram so that
(41:04):
you can stay attuned to all ofthe new projects that he has
coming out.
And, of course, this story wasrecorded for us by our dear,
dear friend John C Cook.
He just has the perfect voicefor a story like this and it
made a ton of sense to kind ofbring him in for this project.
But let's talk a little bitabout Toy Robot Again, set, I
think, in 2037.
(41:25):
So many, many, many years inthe future.
Something about this story alsoreminds me of moments in Alien,
you know particularly.
It's really a survival story.
It's a story about one personwho is really in isolation, and
you remember how much we talkedabout isolation and how even
that can feel likeclaustrophobia in some cases in
our space horror historyepisodes, and so so this felt
like a really important piece toinclude in isolation and how
even that can feel likeclaustrophobia in some cases in
(41:46):
our space horror historyepisodes and so this felt like a
really important piece toinclude in these story episodes
because I think it demonstratesthat really really well.
I also just love the mechanicof modifying this broken toy
robot right and using it in thisother way, and how simple that
is, I suppose, but also how muchof a picture it paints with the
(42:07):
visual of doing that and tellsus so much about this person.
I love the visual of that toyrobot as a motion detector and I
find always with SS Fitzgeraldstories that they feel like
they're part of a bigger story,which I love, because I love
short stories obviously and Ilove knowing that there's more
out there and I feel like thereis stories obviously and I love
knowing that there's more outthere and I feel like there is
(42:27):
with this piece and I think alot of his stories do ladder up
into larger universes and worldsand pieces and I hope this is
one of them, because it feelslike there's so much here and
there's so much more about thisworld that I want to understand.
I also feel like the ending isso powerful.
Ending with you are beautiful,like such a simple but haunting
(42:48):
line from the Working Joe.
I don't know.
I feel like it gives me chills,and I love when stories can
really end on something that'seither jarring, of course, or
poignant, or both, and I thinkin this case it's both.
This next story comes to us fromWarren Bettadetto, and I'm sure
all of you are very familiarwith Warren at this point.
(43:08):
His work has been featured onthe podcast many a time.
Speaker 2 (43:17):
A Piece of the Sky, written by Warren Benedetto,
read by Michael Grosso.
Speaker 5 (43:26):
With all due respect, sir, you don't know what you're
talking about.
There was no way Bakley couldhave known what that thing was.
When he picked it up it lookedlike a rock.
Hell, it was a rock, just ahunk of the asteroid's crust
that he grabbed as a souvenirfor his kid.
There's no way he could haveknown.
It was a nest.
I'm telling you.
There was nothing, nothing outof the ordinary about this thing
(43:49):
.
It was small enough to fit intohis chest pack.
That was all.
That's why he picked it up.
I think he said something abouthow Evie would love it.
It was tar black with some goldflecks in it that sparkled like
stars in the light from hisheadlamp.
He said it looked like a chunkof the universe had broken off
right in his hand.
That's what he was going totell Evie that he brought her a
(44:15):
piece of the sky.
Maybe if he had dropped therock in his hip pack instead,
none of this would have happened.
I don't know.
But the chest pack it was rightup against his body.
I think the things must havesensed his body heat, or maybe
his heartbeat or his breathing.
Whatever it was.
Something woke them, somethingmade them hatch, something made
them hungry.
We were talking about Evie whenit happened.
He was telling me about thelatest videos his wife uploaded
(44:37):
about how much bigger Evie hadgotten in the two years since
he'd last been home.
She turned two right before heleft and now she was celebrating
her fourth birthday.
That's why he picked up therock.
He promised he'd bring hersomething extra special as a
surprise.
He sent her a whole video aboutit, making it sound like he was
on a great adventure, a bigdeal treasure hunt instead of a
non-union mining expedition.
(44:58):
God, he loved that kid so much.
He just wanted to make herhappy and proud.
He wanted her to have somethingto show off to her friends, to
prove that her dad really did goto work in outer space.
What better way to do that thanbring home a piece of the sky?
Yeah, I know about protocols,but I hate to break it to you,
sir.
Nobody gives a fuck about theprotocols.
(45:19):
Who cares if we pick up a rockor two?
It's not like we're stealing,it's just worthless dirt.
We do stuff like that all thetime.
Everyone does, the whole crew.
On every new expedition webring something home with us.
I've got a whole drawer full ofrocks in my place, ceres Themis
, fortuna, juno, two from Juno.
Actually, nothing ever happened.
Nobody got hurt, right, sir?
(45:40):
Until now.
I'd say it was maybe two orthree minutes from the time he
put the rock in his pack to whenhe started to scream.
He was behind me when he fell,so I didn't see him go down.
I just heard him yell.
When I turned around, he wasalready on the ground rolling on
his back and pawing at hisvisor.
I ran to see if I could help.
(46:01):
I thought maybe there was abreach in his suit, like maybe
he was losing oxygen orsomething.
But it wasn't that.
It was worse.
It was so much worse.
They were eating his face, man,dozens of them writhing
rust-colored worms, justdevouring him alive inside of
his helmet.
Each one was as thick as myfinger, with a segmented body
(46:24):
and a mouth full of pin-sharpiron teeth, and I could hear
them.
His mic was turned on, so therewas this sound, this wet,
crunching and squelching sound.
That was like I don't know,like the sound your boots make
in muddy gravel during arainstorm.
But it wasn't gravel.
(46:45):
It was bone, skin and muscleand bone, all of it being
gnashed into a pulp by thosehorrible churning mauls, mostly
what I heard.
Heard, though, were his screams.
The mics in our helmets weren'tdesigned for that kind of sound
(47:08):
at that volume so the shriekswere so distorted that they
barely sounded human.
The noise made me flash back tothe day when my dad took me to
visit my uncle at theslaughterhouse where he worked.
It was like the sound of dozensof terrified pigs, all of them
squealing at once as theyrealized what was about to
happen.
It was the sound of abjectterror, of mortal fear.
(47:29):
Then, just as suddenly as thescreaming started, it stopped.
Then, just as suddenly as thescreaming started, it stopped.
The inside of Bakley's visorwas so smeared with blood and
gore I couldn't see through itanymore.
But based on the sound, I couldguess what happened.
The worms had forced their wayinto his mouth.
(47:50):
I could hear him gurgling,strangling on his own blood,
trying desperately to draw abreath as the worms chewed
through his tongue and into histhroat.
Bakley was my friend, sir.
He was like a brother to me.
You have to know that I didn'twant to do what I did, but I had
no choice.
(48:10):
The things were eating him, butthey weren't killing him, not
fast enough.
Anyway, he was in so much painI guess he would have bled out
eventually.
But I wasn't thinking aboutthat at the time.
I was thinking about Evie,about how, someday she was gonna
ask me how her father died.
(48:30):
What was I supposed to tell her?
I couldn't tell her.
I couldn't tell her the truth.
I couldn't tell her what I saw,what I heard.
The only thing I could say wasthat I didn't let him suffer.
So, yes, sir, I cut his throat.
I had to.
(48:52):
It was the quickest way to endit.
Believe me, if you were there,you would have done the same
thing, wouldn't you?
Speaker 1 (49:08):
There's so much to say about this story.
The first thing that comes tomind, though, is that there's
elements of this that reallyremind me of some of those early
HG Wells stories that we citedin the very first episode of
this series, especially in theCrystal Egg from 1897.
And this is certainly notone-to-one, but there's
something about having this itemright this rock or this crystal
(49:32):
egg and it has somethingunknown about it or something
horrible, right that turns outto be.
I just also love how Warren'swriting is so contained and he
creates such a vivid picture andthis is always the case with
stories that he sends to us buthe creates a really vivid
picture while really focusing ontwo people, two or three people
(49:52):
in this case, right, you havethe complexity of the story
being told to us by somebodyelse through their observations,
and then you also have thedepths of the relationship
between the child and the dad,especially how the dad feels
about the child, and thesymbology of taking this thing
for Evie.
There's just so much richnessto it on top of the horror,
obviously.
That is certainly there in thiscase.
(50:13):
And then, at the end, right,this really difficult decision,
but the right thing to doultimately and yeah, I think
Warren brings us on thisemotional journey and I love
genre fiction that can take ussomewhere meaningful and feels
really relatable even thoughthis is taking place right in
some kind of celestial miningcolony, we still understand the
(50:36):
baseline feelings and the horrordoesn't come from necessarily
the fact that it's taking placein this really rare setting.
It comes from the interpersonalrelationships and the terror
that's involved, and that'ssomething that's really
relatable.
And I have to say I think it'sreally poignant the way Warren
ends the story with a questionto you know, in this case, the
(50:56):
person that the narrator istalking to, but by default it
becomes a question for theaudience.
Wouldn't you do the same?
And I think sometimes that's ahard decision, right, and you
never know really what you woulddo until you're in a situation
like that.
But I like a story that asks usto question and reflect.
And of course, we have to shoutout to narrator Michael Crosa,
who did such an incredible jobbringing this story to life, as
(51:19):
he always does.
Again, thank you so so much toall three writers, to all three
narrators Warren Benedetto, nickYoung, ss Fitzgerald, michael
Crosa, john C Cook.
You guys have done such a greatjob bringing this episode to
life and thank you all forlending your generous talents in
the different ways that youhave.
(51:40):
And I'm so thrilled that wehave one more episode with two
really fantastic epic storiescoming for you in a few weeks.
So the Space Horror Sagacontinues and, of course, please
check out all of the links inthe description of this podcast
to stay up to date.
Check out people's books,support their work in different
ways.
We really appreciate building acommunity of writers and
(52:02):
narrators and fiction lovers,horror lovers, space horror
lovers through these podcastepisodes.
So thank you all for checkingout their work and supporting
them in whatever way that youcan.
I hope everybody is hanging inthere as best as you can.
We are always here.
Check us out on Discord, dm uson any social media.
We're especially happy tocontinue to build community this
(52:25):
year in whatever ways.
This community needs to evolveand adapt right.
Talk to you all soon.
Bye.
Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode
of the Lunatics Radio Hourpodcast.
Lunatics Radio Hour podcast.
I'm your host, Abbey Branker,and today I am so excited to
present part one of two spacehorror story episodes.
In total, we have fiveexcellent haunting stories that
are set in space or have to dowith outer space in some
(00:37):
horrifying way, and if youmissed our two-part deep dive
into the history of space horror, then go check that out first,
because I think a lot of thethemes that I'm going to
highlight today when we listento these stories really can be
traced back in a lot of ways tokind of how this genre came
together and started.
This is absolutely one of myfavorite parts of this podcast
(00:57):
being able to really showcasethe talented and incredible
writers that are in thiscommunity.
So let's kick things off strong.
Today we have three stories inthis episode.
I'm really incredibly excitedand honored for this first story
which comes to us by Nick Young, and it is the first time that
we are featuring Nick's work onthe podcast, and not only that,
(01:18):
he recorded and narrated thisstory as well.
It's really really wonderful.
I love it so much.
I think once the story starts,you will all understand why I
have an affinity for it, butlet's let Nick take it away.
Encounter written in red byNick Young.
Speaker 3 (01:41):
He had been pacing the floor before the fire for
the better part of an hour,muttering and fortifying himself
with brandy.
At last he threw himself intothe chair at his writing desk
and, with an unsteady hand, tookup his pen.
Days and longer nights ofincreasing consternation within
(02:03):
my soul, but I can no longer goon without revealing what I know
, what I myself have endured,and pleading with any horrendous
account to heed its warning.
As I sit, well past themidnight hour, the fire ebbing
and the candle guttering, myinner turmoil is matched by the
ferocity of a storm without thatbatters unabated the brick and
(02:25):
stone of my home.
The memories of my travail haveinstigated a pain that pounds
relentlessly within my skull,its intensity growing seemingly
by the minute.
It has driven me to the brink.
God help me, forgive my scrawl.
As I hasten to record thistestament.
I pray that my hand does notfail me.
(02:46):
It is the autumn of the year ofour Lord, 1878.
My name is Trevor Highsmith,thirty-two years of age and, by
profession, a solicitor.
Until a fortnight ago, I hadresided in Ascot with my wife
Lisbeth and our adopted daughter.
Ours had been a quiet life.
We kept largely to ourselves,with only a small number of
(03:07):
friends in our social circle.
To my knowledge, we never gaveour neighbors any grounds for
quarrel.
Those who know me or with whomI have had professional
intercourse will attest that Ihave demonstrated a sound mind,
being given neither to fantasynor dissembling.
Why am I at pains to enumeratethese points?
Because, following theextraordinary events I am about
(03:29):
to relate, the world shifted onits axis and I fear without the
proper preamble, those who readthis would be quite forgiven for
dismissing my story out of handas too outlandish to be taken
with any degree of seriousness.
What has ensnared me commencedfive months ago.
It was a midweek evening.
Dusk had fallen as I was makingmy way home in a hired handsome
(03:52):
after dinner with a client inLondon.
Spring flooding had washed awaya bridge on the main road to
Ascot, requiring the driver totake a more circuitous route
through a forested section ofthe countryside.
The night air had grown chill,so I drew a coverlet about my
legs and dozed to the rhythm ofthe horse's hooves and gentle
rocking of the carriage.
After a time it is impossiblefor me to state of what duration
(04:16):
I awoke with a start, awarethat the handsome was no longer
moving In the illumination castdown by the full moon.
I was struck by the oddappearance of the horse, for the
animal was frozen in mid-stride.
Astonished, I gave my head avigorous shake, thinking I was
yet in a state of somnolence.
Satisfied that this was not thecase, I turned my attention to
(04:39):
the driver.
Why have we stopped?
I called out.
Receiving no reply, I renewedmy query "'Driver, what is the
meaning of this?
Why are we not moving'.
Growing annoyed at again beingmet with silence, I threw aside
the coverlet and alit from thecarriage.
What I beheld was no lessarresting than my first sight of
(04:59):
the horse, for the driver tooappeared in a state of suspended
animation, his mouth partiallyopened, right arm extended, with
the rawhide whip curled inmid-crack.
What was before my eyes at thatmoment I could not comprehend,
so utterly singular was it, andso too my surroundings.
We were stopped in a ratherlarge glade encircled by dense
(05:22):
woods, and I swiftly becameaware of the profound silence in
which I was enwrapped.
It was not mere quietude, as ifthe forest creatures had, at
that moment, chosen to mutetheir nocturnal chorus.
Rather, this was a complete andtotal absence of sound, as if,
like a vacuum apparatus removesthe oxygen from a chamber.
(05:42):
It had been totally extractedfrom the air.
What was happening to me?
I had no time for speculationbefore I was taken aback once
again.
The night had been cloudless,the moon at its fullest, but as
I stood, a darkness began todescend over the landscape.
When I became aware of it, Ilooked up to behold a huge
(06:04):
shadow gliding slowly from westto east, gradually obscuring the
moon and coming to rest, Ijudged, perhaps a hundred feet
directly above me.
At first I took it to be acloud, but I soon realized it
was no natural phenomenon, forit bore the distinct outline of
an object out of the bounds ofnature.
It possessed a leading edgethat was curved, a curvature
(06:27):
which continued around itsentirety, giving the whole an
ovoid aspect, and its size wasquite remarkable, overspreading
the whole of the glade.
Moreover, its appearance wasunaccompanied by the slightest
sound.
Again, I had the gravest doubtthat I could trust what my
senses were communicating to me.
Reason told me I was not in thegrip of a dream state, unless
(06:50):
one of a vividness unprecedentedin my experience.
Perhaps then, by some means, Ihad fallen into an alternate
reality.
In my reading, I had touchedupon discussions of the
existence of such worlds in oneor two journals of speculative
science, but had theretoforegiven them scant credence.
It was at that moment I wastouched by a new sensation, a
(07:13):
prickliness that began with thetiny hairs on the back of my
neck.
The feeling crept higher, anddid so with such force as to
knock the hat from my head.
Simultaneously, as my eyes weretrained skyward and here I beg
your forbearance a space openedin the inky shadow, a square of
medium size, instantlypermitting a shaft of cold white
(07:36):
light to descend around me andbegin to draw me upward.
Stunned, but totally immobile,I marked my progress as I was
lifted higher and higher towardthe opening in the icy, dazzling
light.
At that moment, consciousnessslipped from me After a time of
such duration as was impossiblefor me to determine.
(07:56):
My awareness returned, but onlydimly.
The white light was now allenveloping, palpable, buoying me
up in a state of suspension.
Since there were no discerniblefeatures about me, it was
impossible to orient my body inspace, though I had the distinct
feeling of being supine.
Now arrives the most fantasticalepisode of this story.
(08:19):
Presently still in a kind oftwilight, consciousness hovering
above my own, I beheld twofaces possessing physiognomies
of the most singular sort ovalin shape, slate in color and
perfectly smooth, with largecoal-black round eyes, deep set
below an outsized head thatappeared to enclose an enormous
(08:40):
brain.
There was little in the way ofa nose, save for two pinhole
nostrils.
The mouth, such as there wasone, was but a thin slit which
curved downward at each end.
These were strikingcountenances indeed, and both
wore masks of immobility.
I detected no movement of anykind upon them.
Yet these creatures appeared tocommunicate with each other, of
(09:02):
that I did not doubt.
As to the manner, I have noother explanation than that.
I did not doubt.
As to the manner, I have noother explanation than that they
accomplished it through someform of telepathic transmission.
At length, the figures movedaway out of my line of vision,
yet I felt they remained nearby,and anon, one of the faces,
again loomed above my own.
He, it seemed to bore into myeyes with its own, and as it
(09:26):
happened, I witnessed atransformation.
The pupils of deep cobalt blueappeared within glittering
silvery irises that spun in aclockwise direction, emitting
crystalline sparks.
At that very moment I heard,not without but within my head,
the words not without but withinmy head, the words you are the
chosen.
Immediately, I became aware ofa wholly new sensation, one I am
(09:54):
at pains to describe with theutmost modesty.
Below my waist, I began to feela distinct thrilling and
excitation normally associatedwith intimate contact with
someone of the opposite sex.
How this was being accomplishedI could not say, nor had I any
inkling why, but it wasnonetheless very real.
I found myself powerless in itsgrip, as a crescendo of arousal
(10:15):
washed over me and I againslipped into unconsciousness.
I was jarred back to wakefulnessby the carriage coming to an
abrupt halt in front of my home.
In her harness, I heard thegrey dapple snort and paw the
brick pavement.
"'beggin' your pardon, guv'nor', the driver said apologetically
, gingerly.
I climbed out of the handsome,sensing the need to get legs
(10:39):
back under me.
"'tell me, driver'.
I began choosing my words withcare.
"'did anything unusualtranspire since we left London'?
"'nary a thing, sir Trip, assmooth as silk, as the saying
goes'.
"'nothing, nothing at all, yousay' "'Only the moon and sky
above and the road below.
(10:59):
"'i paid the man his fare and,with the tip of his cap, he
snapped the whip smartly.
"'and he and the dappled greywere off, leaving me to stand in
utter bewilderment.
My story now leaps ahead throughthe intervening months.
It is time to bring it to itsconclusion.
Eight weeks ago, lisbeth and Ireceived word from the
Stockbridge Home for Orphans,which is situated on the
(11:21):
outskirts of Ascot, that theyhad taken in an infant girl, a
transfer from a similarinstitution in Wales A year
before.
To our dismay, after repeatedattempts to start a family,
lisbeth had been found to bebarren and thus began our search
for a child to adopt.
It was natural to turn to theStockbridge home first, and we
soon established a goodrelationship with Dr Ian Trent,
(11:44):
the director.
But though he strove diligently, he was unable to locate a
suitable candidate for us.
Then, with shocking suddenness,ownership of the home changed
hands and Dr Trent was summarilydismissed and replaced by one
major retired, simon Cawthorn.
The two men could not have beenmore different.
Where Dr Cawthorn, the two mencould not have been more
(12:05):
different.
Where Dr Trent was warm andengaging, cawthorn was icily
remote.
Still, he pledged that hisefforts to find a child for us
would be tireless, and indeedthey quickly bore fruit.
Throughout the long months I hadstriven to put the events of
that spring night behind me,ascribing them to a
hallucinatory state brought onby fatigue, overwork.
Of what had happened I divulgedto no one, not even Elizabeth,
(12:28):
and as time passed, troubled asI had been, I had largely
succeeded in restoring a senseof normality to my life.
The good news of the baby'sarrival I greeted with joy and
hope On the day we were to bringthe child home.
We arrived at Stockbridgepromptly, at the appointed hour,
and were ushered into MajorCawthorn's office.
Quite out of character, hegreeted us effusively and
(12:51):
summoned a nurse withinstructions to fetch the baby.
She came to us unbaptized andwithout a name, the major said
as the nurse entered with thechild but we have called her our
little Rose, mrs Highsmith.
He gestured for the nurse toplace the infant in my wife's
arms.
At that first touch, tearsspilled from Lisbeth's eyes.
(13:12):
Oh, how beautiful, how precious.
She declared.
And Trevor, I believe she bearsthe most uncanny resemblance to
you, darling.
It's almost as if she were yourown here.
Take her and see for yourself'.
With that, lisbeth gently putthe child in my arms and I
looked upon the delicate face ofthe tiny girl.
As I did, I received the shockof my life, for as I gazed into
(13:36):
the child's eyes, theytransformed from deep brown into
the coloration that wasidentical to that of the
creature who had held sway overme the same deep cobalt irises
within spinning, glitteringpupils.
An involuntary cry escaped mylips.
"'you see what I mean, dearest', said Elizabeth.
I looked at her face, so filledwith openness and love.
(13:58):
"'was it possible she did notsee what I beheld'.
"'yes, mr Highsmith, there is adistinct resemblance', major
Cawthorn said, his voicedropping, taking on a flat tone.
"'you are the Chosen' thosewords, my eyes snapped to his,
and God will judge me if I tella falsehood.
They were identical to theChilds and the Aliens'.
(14:21):
It was several hours later thatI regained my senses.
I found myself in my own bed,tended to by my loving wife.
"'why, trevor, you gave us sucha start fading away as you did
in the Major's office?
Fortunately, his attendantswere able to return you here.
Your joy at seeing little Rosewas simply too much, wasn't it,
darling'.
I returned her query with aweak smile and nod of the head.
(14:46):
"'what could I say to her?
How could I tell her therevelation that had struck me
like a bolt of lightning?
When I looked upon the child,and then into Cawthorne's eyes,
it was plain to me that the babyand what had befallen me on the
road to Ascot were inextricablylinked.
I reasoned that the beings whohad abducted me were carrying
(15:06):
out some ghastly reproductiveexperimentation.
What I feared was a diabolicalplan to meld humans with their
own race and populate our worldwith hybrids.
To what end, is it not clear?
I am convinced that the goal isnothing less than achieving
global dominion.
No, I could say nothing toElizabeth, could never confide
(15:28):
in her that the beloved infantshe rocked to sleep each night
was in reality the spawn of arace of beings who were not of
this earth.
Instead, I have held my peaceand striven mightily to place my
life onto an even keel.
Alas, I faltered.
As time went on and I struggledwith my horrible secret.
(15:49):
My behavior grew more erratic.
There were uncharacteristicmood swings, bouts of heavy
drinking, ravings in my sleep.
That alarmed Lisbeth in theextreme.
It finally became too much,leading her to leave with Little
Rose and take up residence withher parents in the city.
Leave with little Rose and takeup residence with her parents
(16:10):
in the city.
Now nothing is left but torecount what I know and to give
voice to my darkest fears.
I pray to the Almighty.
It is not yet too late.
On the edge of exhaustion andwith trembling hand, he laid
aside his pen.
Aware of the brass knocker onthe front door rapping loudly,
incessantly, over the tumult ofthe storm, he rose from his
chair, crossed out of his studyand made his way down the hall
(16:33):
to the home's foyer.
Opening the door, he was met bytwo members of the local
constabulary, their bobbyhelmets and oil-skinned capes
drenched by sheets of rain.
"'trevor Highsmith' one of themen men asked loudly enough to
be heard amidst the howling wind.
Yes, you need to come with ussir.
Come with you.
Why?
For what reason?
(16:54):
It's time, the constablereplied, as both men turned to
face him directly lest he failto see their eyes see their eyes
.
Speaker 1 (17:12):
I am particularly taken with science fiction
stories that take place in thepast, and so Nick's story, of
course, comes to us from 19thcentury England, which is such a
wonderful and rich setting fora story like this.
And I'm sure you figured outthat this is not Nick's first
rodeo as a writer or as anarrator.
So Nick is a retired,award-winning CBS news
correspondent.
His writing has appeared indozens of reviews, journals and
(17:34):
anthologies.
His first novel, deadline, waspublished in the fall of 2023.
He lives outside of Chicago.
You can follow him on Instagramat Zen Blues, and we will leave
his Instagram and Twitterhandles in the description of
this podcast so that you canfind him very, very easily.
And please check out Deadline.
It's next on my to-read list.
But let's talk a little bitabout Encounter, because I love
(17:57):
it so much.
Interestingly enough, a few ofthe stories in this series have
sort of a similar element, whichis that the framing of the
story is somebody recountingevents that happened and telling
that to somebody else.
And I think you know somethingwe've talked about a lot,
especially on our interviewepisodes with Andy, but this
idea of aliens,extraterrestrials, other
(18:20):
dimensional beings, whatever wewant to call them.
But having this otherworldlything or creature actually come
to Earth in modern times wouldcause people to have total
breakdowns because it wouldtotally change their
understanding of reality.
And while that certainly isstill true in 2025, think about
how true that would be in the1800s, right?
(18:43):
And how unprepared that personwould be before really, the
invention of science fiction anda lot of the work that HG Wells
did to start painting thesepictures and telling these
stories that are set in these,you know, places off of Earth or
on Earth, but with beings thatare not from Earth.
So it's just fascinating tothink about that too.
Right, having an encounter backwhen you didn't have a
(19:07):
reference for what was happening, right, or even like any kind
of understanding to say, okay,this is at least similar to
something I've seen in a sci-fimovie.
It would be totally out ofnowhere, it would totally
shatter your understanding ofthe world, the laws of physics,
everything around you.
I also really love one of myfavorite books of all time is
Valette by Charlotte Bronte, andI love stories from that time
(19:31):
period, which this obviouslyfeels reminiscent of, but
because they sort of followpeople a little bit longer, and
even a short story like this,but it's told in a way that's a
little bit biographical.
I suppose it's a little bit ofan epic journey along with a
character, and this feels verymuch like that because, okay, we
have this incident, but then wehave the aftermath of this
incident, which lingers on andon and takes place over time,
(19:53):
and, of course, we just love anystory where somebody really
sort of descends into depressionor madness or paranoia or
whatever.
You know, whatever thatcharacter falls into based on
what's going on around them, andI think it really is also a
character study in some ways,right, and so I love that.
There's this richness to thisstory, and I think, again,
(20:13):
you'll see this with all of thestories that we're going to
feature in this series.
But they're genre pieces, ofcourse, and they're space horror
and some of them are sciencefiction, but they are also
stories about human people andthey all celebrate and work
within themes and emotions anddark, dark emotions and feelings
that most of us can reallyrelate to and understand.
So that's something that Ithink is a major through line
(20:36):
between all of the differentstories that we're going to
feature on this podcast.
And I mean, I don't even haveto say it, but Nick's voice is
unreal.
It's so good, it was sodelightful to listen to Such a
beautiful timbre, such abeautiful voice, thank you.
Thank you, nick.
All right, let's play the nextone.
Speaker 2 (20:58):
Joy Robot, written by SS Fitzgerald, read by John C
Cook.
Speaker 4 (21:08):
SS Fitzgerald, read by John C Cook.
Long tension in the darkamplifies sound.
The half-days between sleep andthe living world cast shadows
that can't exist.
Long dark shadows which moveand consume, muffling screams
from the deepest depths inside.
Voices echo and sounds becomewarnings whispering in the
(21:30):
paranoid mind.
No one can hear you scream here.
Jason Wu's eyes fluttered open.
A blaring noise called him outof the shadows.
Black swirls threw off his eyes.
A single bright white lightfocused in on him.
His eyes burned looking at it.
Jason threw up a hand blockingthe light.
(21:52):
He felt the thick fabric underhim Blinking, burned.
But the images came in.
He was in the dark.
Still, the monitor, the sourceof the light flickered, still
overlooking the waiting stationoutside of the transit system.
He had fallen asleep, waitingin the dark, but it didn't look
like anything had changed and hewould have heard Brent call
(22:14):
back if it had the date readDecember 10th 2137.
Still, he didn't have the timeup.
He had no clue how long he haddozed off.
He didn't have the time up.
He had no clue how long he haddozed off.
The Solomon's Habitation Towerwas in such chaos he couldn't
flip through any of the otherfeeds.
He wasn't sure if they were alldown or if it was an issue on
(22:35):
his end.
The only feed he could get wasthe transit, so he waited
tirelessly.
It was difficult to sleep.
Fear had made it difficult foreveryone to sleep when the
disappearances started.
There was speculation, lots ofspeculation.
(22:56):
Jason almost didn't believe anyof it.
Like the rest, when it gotworse he had begun to suspect
the working Joes.
They had been peculiar from thestart.
When they arrived, he'd beenassigned to assist with their
care and found it unusual.
He was denied access to thecognitive core, especially as
there were known issues withother Weyland-Yutani models
(23:28):
pressing on the working JoesLooking through the dark in the
small, cramped office.
Even here the corners lurkedwith dangerous shadows.
Jason, brent and Drew knewbetter.
They had been near one of theauxiliary escape doors.
They had been shutting downdoors and locked them.
He recalled using his favoritenumber 0340.
He used it to lock one inparticular.
Then they ran into Axel, theweird, wiry, bald jerk only
(23:50):
caring to get his paycheck andleave.
They found him over one of themaps, vandalizing one of the
walls with no future in blackink.
When they confronted him hepulled a gun on them.
They froze.
People had become desperate andscared.
As they had stood there, axel'sface became a look of terror.
He scattered off down the hallin a sprint.
(24:13):
The group turned From one of thehigher maintenance shafts.
Something was emerging Slimepreceded it Like a broken seal.
From above it oozed down.
A wet silicone smell precededit.
A mass of wet, dark machineryfollowed, lowering, controlled
with ease, touching down with amuffled thud.
(24:36):
It rose.
Jason only recalled runningafter that.
Brent was close behind.
As they reached the shuttle,drew stopped dropping to the
panel at the transit station.
The doors shut.
They could see through the port.
Drew pressed the lever down,attempting to seal the door
between the shaft and thetransit station.
(24:56):
The thing moved in blinks inthe dark, the large
industrialized insect handreaching up around Drew's head.
The transit lurched and theywere off, never to see Drew
again.
Jason's stomach nodded withanxiety recalling the scene.
He wasn't even sure what he hadseen.
(25:16):
He wasn't even sure how longago that really was.
The only hard figure of time hereally had was that his
shipping date was a week ago andsomehow that seemed like
another lifetime now.
And now he was alone.
Brent was nowhere to be seen.
Jason had to act and swallowingthe truth proved to be harder
(25:38):
than swallowing the lump in histhroat.
Standing, he shut off themonitor From the desk.
He picked up the awkwardrevolver.
He had never fired a weapon inhis life, let alone in anger at
someone.
He swallowed something lumpy.
Jason straightened hisshoulders and neck.
If he was going to stay alive,he was going to get help back to
(26:00):
as many people as possible.
He stepped towards the door.
It opened with the sterileautomatic hiss and bang most
doors used.
He stepped out into the hall.
The Lorenz Sistek Spire wasshaped like an L which had
fallen on its side, which linkedwith the Siegson communication
area.
People in recent days came hereonly to loot what little was
(26:23):
left before attempting to go tothe lower levels in the hopes a
ship would come and dock.
Since they had sealed the doors, most just became frustrated
and left.
Others would stay, but not forlong.
Groups had formed and if youweren't in then you were hostile
.
The marshals, the failures theywere, were nowhere to be seen.
(26:45):
Jason took the stairs headingdown sweating bullets with each
step.
He never realized how darkeverything seemed to be, how
quiet the area had grown.
The silence and isolationallowed his heartbeat to grow
stronger and louder.
With each step there came abeating like something pounding
against the wall.
Pausing mid-step on the stairs,he realized it was his own ears
(27:08):
pounding away with his heart.
He made it to the bottom of thestairs and stopped.
To his left was tech support,to the right was the lounge.
Bam Jason pressed himselfagainst the wall.
He shook Another two gunshotsrang out.
He waited, just silence.
He waited longer, still nothing.
(27:28):
He crept slinking with eachmovement around the corner Down.
The corridor was dark.
A lit map console glowed in thenext room.
Jason eased himself away fromthe wall as he made his way down
the corridor.
In the room containing the maphe saw a man crouched in an
orange jacket sorting throughthings in a wall locker and
(27:49):
moving them to a bag he had setout.
Jason crouched and continued tocreep, watchful of the
distracted looter.
He edged around and proceededinto the next hall and then into
the room on the left.
More people had been killed outof desperation than he could
count.
There were several controls inthis room.
He knew he could use them tolock the doors, cut off routes.
(28:12):
The thing could use.
He would need a tuner and heknew one had been left.
In the next room.
He passed by the archive'scircular room where a black box
recovered from some long-lostship sat.
Where a black box recoveredfrom some long-lost ship sat.
The next door opened with awhoosh.
Jason stumbled back.
(28:35):
Center of the room sat Don, acommunication technician.
He and Jason had been drinkingbuddies.
They often worked with eachother as he needed the working
Joes to do physical labor andJason often had to assist the
Joes when they had issues.
He was kind and dedicated.
Had to assist the Joes whenthey had issues.
He was kind and dedicated.
Now he sat slumped in a chair.
He'd been shot multiple times,the wounds blossoming from his
white sweater like roses laid onmarble.
Jason couldn't really believethe scene.
(28:58):
Don was there and he wasn't.
Jason again tried to swallow,but his body had stopped
producing saliva.
Crossing the threshold into theroom, the door sealed behind
him.
He avoided looking at Don, butthe accumulating blood made it
(29:19):
difficult to avoid the scenewhich engulfed a quarter of the
room.
Along one of the shutdownsystems, jason saw the tuner he
sought Picking up the device.
He swung right and glimpsedDon's pale, violated face.
Jason flinched at the sight.
His flinch brought hisattention to the right wall.
Jason pushed back his repulsionand moved towards the document
clipped to the wall.
It looked like the roughoutline of schematics for a
(29:42):
flashbang.
Jason and Don had talked abouthow they could make one for a
prank.
This was by far too powerful touse playfully.
But it was missing something aswell.
Don must not have been able tofinish the designs.
Jason took a pen he kept fromhis pocket and drew in the last
piece a sensor node.
It would allow the blasting capto ignite after being thrown
(30:05):
the trigger for the device.
Jason suddenly felt foolish.
He had no idea why he hadcompleted the design.
He was wasting time.
The science part of his brainwas just seeking an escape.
Leaving, he passed the roomwith the black box once more and
back into the small controlstation.
He put his pistol down on thedesk between a coffee cup and a
(30:27):
coaster.
Under a document he saw thehandle to a key card.
Seeing the first few letters,don.
He didn't bother uncovering it,knowing whose name it would be.
He instead focused on what hefelt he needed to do get into
the communication section.
Leaving his pistol there, hemoved to a nearby desk.
(30:48):
He wanted to set a delay on thedoor to lock once he left.
It wasn't hard.
But what would prove hard wouldbe setting it so no one could
reverse it.
Once he left without a key card, he clicked the controls, his
fingers gliding over the keys.
He wasn't as intimatelyfamiliar with every command as
he wished.
Jason never thought he'd behere long enough to need to know
(31:10):
the commands too well.
Now he may not get a chance tolearn anything new.
He heard someone running downthe corridor.
He moved faster, seekinginstead to hide the command
prompt rather than disable it.
The icon fluttered across thevideo screen and disappeared in
pixels.
Jason dropped to his knees,crouching behind the desk.
He cursed himself for havingleft the pistol on the other
(31:33):
side of the room.
Jason heard the person move in.
He didn't dare try to peek outto see who it was.
But then the footsteps wereovershadowed by a heavy thunder
thudding down on the paneledflooring, someone extremely
heavy, as if wearing ancientarmor, barreling down the
corridor.
(31:53):
Papers blew down on Jason.
He clung to the small desk,cowering in fear.
A primal scream justified hisfears.
A woman shrieked right next tohim.
He dared not look, dared notmove.
A woman shrieked right next tohim.
He dared not look, dared notmove.
Thrashing, knocked more papersover onto Jason's side.
A deep, reverberating hiss cameslamming above him.
(32:20):
His eyes stretched in terror.
A hand clung to the edge.
He could only make out thedeath grip of the fingers
clinging to the furniture.
The hand loosened and stayedstill, yet still.
Jason felt a presence,something beyond the fact the
woman was there, yet so far fromhim.
The hand slid limply over theside.
Jason dared to breathe.
A heavy serpent slid throughthe air where he looked.
(32:42):
He gasped.
He held his breath that the airhe required may give him away.
The tail long, slick andarmored.
Yet it glided through the airwith elegance and then whipped
away.
He heard the heavy, thunderingsteps again growing farther away
until he felt alone again.
He counted down his breathsshallow.
(33:04):
He pressed away from the desk.
Jason saw nothing, as if nostruggle or violation of any
sort had occurred.
He pressed up with his legs andmoved.
Jason wanted out of the room,out of this area.
That table and room had becometainted.
He wanted off the installation.
He went straight for the techworkshop Running.
(33:27):
He slammed his keycard againstthe panel, forcing it open.
He pressed through the doorbefore it had slid completely
open, turning and waitingimpatiently for it to shut again
.
With the door shut, he pressedhis keycard to it again, but
this time to access the securitysetting.
He set the door to authorizedpersonnel only.
He ran, hoping that thecreature wasn't smart enough to
(33:49):
use an access tuner or keycard.
In this room there was only oneterminal that stood out, two
screens, each green, with alarger green circle in the
center on display, a thermos,coffee cup folder and calendar
book sat on the white terminalwith the simple plain white
chair.
There was a flight of stairs toJason's left with an overhang
(34:10):
that read Facility Control.
He needed to have the safetylock engaged.
Once he left the area, hetapped away.
Jason had done it often,especially since he had started
to suspect the working Joes ofmalicious intent.
God, how he hated.
Proving his paranoia correct,he tapped.
The only sound he could hearwas the clicking of his keys.
(34:30):
As he got better faster.
Click, click, click, tap, tap,tap, tap, click, click, click,
click.
The ancient IBM-era soundbuzzed on the screen in success.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
He wasn't typing anymore.
Tap, tap, tap.
He wasn't typing anymore.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
From the center of the room aflood of goo flowed down.
(34:52):
Blood in his veins ran cold.
From the access point, the long, slender dome emerged.
He shivered, it drooped.
He crouched in sequence,subservient, unable to breathe.
He edged forward the tubularstructure not reptilian, not
insect, but undeniably primal.
(35:13):
An enlarged body came down intothe room.
The phallic head rose insilence.
Jason moved towards the cornerinto a lower-aft ventilation
shaft.
The creature's back to him.
It stood erect, massive, tallerthan any man he'd met.
It moved confident.
It is the deadliest thing onthe station.
(35:33):
It moved with purpose, not aprowler, but stalking, hunting
indiscriminately.
Jason moved into the shaft,cautious, to avoid his pursuer.
Jason slipped into the vent.
He moved now with a shakingfright in the low, dim confines
of the vent.
He could see the green glow ofthe door before him.
(35:55):
He pushed up out of the ventand up the small flight of
stairs.
The doors clicked with arelieving swoosh that when he
passed through, knowing theywould lock behind him, you do
not have an appointment.
A gargled voice greeted him,his bowels almost dropping their
contents, the milky face of aworking Joe before him.
(36:15):
I know I'm not here for youthis time.
Jason gave a wide berth aroundthe android.
He had no proof.
The working Joes were malicious, but they seemed far too
resistant for androids.
Something was off about them,but he felt relieved.
The creature wouldn't be herewith a working Joe moving about,
he figured, working together tomake a better, safer Sevastopol
(36:39):
, the broken voice said as hepassed.
He paid no mind to it.
The creepy thing could standthere for all eternity eternity
for all he cared.
What he did care about was howthe creature was able to always
sneak up on him.
He needed something to detectit, something that could pick up
movement in the vents or on thefloor Heading down the
corridors.
(36:59):
He knew of a maintenance roomwhere there were parts he could
throw together something.
If I had dreams, I would seeunicorns.
Jason stopped and looked back.
The working Joe stoodstationary looking at him.
The two did not move and theJoe did not say anything further
.
In their silence, jason shookoff the interaction and
(37:22):
continued to the maintenanceroom.
Inside the maintenance roomthere was a single workbench.
Two off monitors sat in theshadowy corners, dust having
collected from neglect.
An old metal fan sat on theopposite end rusting and waiting
for repairs.
A wrench, flathead, screwdriver, lug iron and red monkey wrench
sat nearby, abandoned by theirprevious owner.
(37:44):
There was a toy robot whosegears had given out and several
loose components scattered aboutas well from something else
that had been taken apart.
Opening the bottom drawer,jason found another variety of
parts, the best piece being abattery pack.
Jason took out the battery packand then went to work on the
robot.
With the flathead he pried thehead off.
(38:06):
First he wanted the body.
The body had a small LEDdisplay screen which he could
use.
Then he twisted off the armsand legs.
The unneeded pieces he tossedto the floor.
Behind him he could hear theworking Joe pacing up and down
the corridor.
He stopped and went silent.
The working Joe's steps soundedheavy, but he could also feel
(38:28):
the thudding of his heart.
He went back to work, pryingopen the toy's screen.
He removed the small batteryand from the box removed a
resistor.
He would use the larger batterypack to provide a longer power
source.
Once the resistor was installed, he switched to where the head
had been source.
Once the resistor was installed,he switched to where the head
(38:49):
had been.
The opening was large enough hecould place an HR-110 antenna.
Putting a switch on, he couldmake the antenna receive twice
instead of sending a signal thatwould provide the detection.
Sweat poured from his foreheadan ice-cold droplet in the hot,
claustrophobic room.
He could have sworn.
He just heard something drop.
He waited too scared to turn.
He heard a door open and thepadded steps of the working Joe
(39:12):
moved in the corridor behind him.
He went back to work again.
Jason connected the battery packinto the back.
He flipped the device over andswitched it on.
The screen's background came inblack and the old toy's green
lines showed several boxes.
A circular display came up anda heavy ticking went off.
Jason waved it back and forth.
(39:34):
A whoop went off, indicating itpicked up the movement.
The whoop signaled again.
The ticking drowned it out.
Then again whoop, whoop.
Then ticking.
It was picking up the workingJoe.
It sounded off whoop, whoop,whoop, whoop.
The working Joe was comingcloser down the hall towards him
.
He set the tracker down as hemoved his unneeded tools away.
(39:57):
Whoop, whoop, whoop, whoop.
The working Joe was behind him.
He could hear the steps hadstopped, but there was a
rustling.
He was about to turn to facethe ugly, milky face when the
garbled voice spoke what are you?
Jason scrunched his brow at thequestion.
He turned.
(40:17):
A large, dark figure toweredbefore him.
Jason mumbled, quivering a deep, reverberating hiss coming from
within it.
Thick, fleshy lips peeled back.
His legs shook but would notmove.
You are beautiful, sounded theworking Joe.
Speaker 1 (40:43):
And starkly different from our last story.
Right, right, this one takesplace in the future and you may
remember ss fitzgerald, who hasbeen featured on the podcast
before.
If you'd like more informationabout ss fitzgerald, you can
head to ssfitzgeraldnet, and Iwill, of course, leave the links
to follow him on facebook,twitter and instagram so that
(41:04):
you can stay attuned to all ofthe new projects that he has
coming out.
And, of course, this story wasrecorded for us by our dear,
dear friend John C Cook.
He just has the perfect voicefor a story like this and it
made a ton of sense to kind ofbring him in for this project.
But let's talk a little bitabout Toy Robot Again, set, I
think, in 2037.
(41:25):
So many, many, many years inthe future.
Something about this story alsoreminds me of moments in Alien,
you know particularly.
It's really a survival story.
It's a story about one personwho is really in isolation, and
you remember how much we talkedabout isolation and how even
that can feel likeclaustrophobia in some cases in
our space horror historyepisodes, and so so this felt
like a really important piece toinclude in isolation and how
even that can feel likeclaustrophobia in some cases in
(41:46):
our space horror historyepisodes and so this felt like a
really important piece toinclude in these story episodes
because I think it demonstratesthat really really well.
I also just love the mechanicof modifying this broken toy
robot right and using it in thisother way, and how simple that
is, I suppose, but also how muchof a picture it paints with the
(42:07):
visual of doing that and tellsus so much about this person.
I love the visual of that toyrobot as a motion detector and I
find always with SS Fitzgeraldstories that they feel like
they're part of a bigger story,which I love, because I love
short stories obviously and Ilove knowing that there's more
out there and I feel like thereis stories obviously and I love
knowing that there's more outthere and I feel like there is
(42:27):
with this piece and I think alot of his stories do ladder up
into larger universes and worldsand pieces and I hope this is
one of them, because it feelslike there's so much here and
there's so much more about thisworld that I want to understand.
I also feel like the ending isso powerful.
Ending with you are beautiful,like such a simple but haunting
(42:48):
line from the Working Joe.
I don't know.
I feel like it gives me chills,and I love when stories can
really end on something that'seither jarring, of course, or
poignant, or both, and I thinkin this case it's both.
This next story comes to us fromWarren Bettadetto, and I'm sure
all of you are very familiarwith Warren at this point.
(43:08):
His work has been featured onthe podcast many a time.
Speaker 2 (43:17):
A Piece of the Sky, written by Warren Benedetto,
read by Michael Grosso.
Speaker 5 (43:26):
With all due respect, sir, you don't know what you're
talking about.
There was no way Bakley couldhave known what that thing was.
When he picked it up it lookedlike a rock.
Hell, it was a rock, just ahunk of the asteroid's crust
that he grabbed as a souvenirfor his kid.
There's no way he could haveknown.
It was a nest.
I'm telling you.
There was nothing, nothing outof the ordinary about this thing
(43:49):
.
It was small enough to fit intohis chest pack.
That was all.
That's why he picked it up.
I think he said something abouthow Evie would love it.
It was tar black with some goldflecks in it that sparkled like
stars in the light from hisheadlamp.
He said it looked like a chunkof the universe had broken off
right in his hand.
That's what he was going totell Evie that he brought her a
(44:15):
piece of the sky.
Maybe if he had dropped therock in his hip pack instead,
none of this would have happened.
I don't know.
But the chest pack it was rightup against his body.
I think the things must havesensed his body heat, or maybe
his heartbeat or his breathing.
Whatever it was.
Something woke them, somethingmade them hatch, something made
them hungry.
We were talking about Evie whenit happened.
He was telling me about thelatest videos his wife uploaded
(44:37):
about how much bigger Evie hadgotten in the two years since
he'd last been home.
She turned two right before heleft and now she was celebrating
her fourth birthday.
That's why he picked up therock.
He promised he'd bring hersomething extra special as a
surprise.
He sent her a whole video aboutit, making it sound like he was
on a great adventure, a bigdeal treasure hunt instead of a
non-union mining expedition.
(44:58):
God, he loved that kid so much.
He just wanted to make herhappy and proud.
He wanted her to have somethingto show off to her friends, to
prove that her dad really did goto work in outer space.
What better way to do that thanbring home a piece of the sky?
Yeah, I know about protocols,but I hate to break it to you,
sir.
Nobody gives a fuck about theprotocols.
(45:19):
Who cares if we pick up a rockor two?
It's not like we're stealing,it's just worthless dirt.
We do stuff like that all thetime.
Everyone does, the whole crew.
On every new expedition webring something home with us.
I've got a whole drawer full ofrocks in my place, ceres Themis
, fortuna, juno, two from Juno.
Actually, nothing ever happened.
Nobody got hurt, right, sir?
(45:40):
Until now.
I'd say it was maybe two orthree minutes from the time he
put the rock in his pack to whenhe started to scream.
He was behind me when he fell,so I didn't see him go down.
I just heard him yell.
When I turned around, he wasalready on the ground rolling on
his back and pawing at hisvisor.
I ran to see if I could help.
(46:01):
I thought maybe there was abreach in his suit, like maybe
he was losing oxygen orsomething.
But it wasn't that.
It was worse.
It was so much worse.
They were eating his face, man,dozens of them writhing
rust-colored worms, justdevouring him alive inside of
his helmet.
Each one was as thick as myfinger, with a segmented body
(46:24):
and a mouth full of pin-sharpiron teeth, and I could hear
them.
His mic was turned on, so therewas this sound, this wet,
crunching and squelching sound.
That was like I don't know,like the sound your boots make
in muddy gravel during arainstorm.
But it wasn't gravel.
(46:45):
It was bone, skin and muscleand bone, all of it being
gnashed into a pulp by thosehorrible churning mauls, mostly
what I heard.
Heard, though, were his screams.
The mics in our helmets weren'tdesigned for that kind of sound
(47:08):
at that volume so the shriekswere so distorted that they
barely sounded human.
The noise made me flash back tothe day when my dad took me to
visit my uncle at theslaughterhouse where he worked.
It was like the sound of dozensof terrified pigs, all of them
squealing at once as theyrealized what was about to
happen.
It was the sound of abjectterror, of mortal fear.
(47:29):
Then, just as suddenly as thescreaming started, it stopped.
Then, just as suddenly as thescreaming started, it stopped.
The inside of Bakley's visorwas so smeared with blood and
gore I couldn't see through itanymore.
But based on the sound, I couldguess what happened.
The worms had forced their wayinto his mouth.
(47:50):
I could hear him gurgling,strangling on his own blood,
trying desperately to draw abreath as the worms chewed
through his tongue and into histhroat.
Bakley was my friend, sir.
He was like a brother to me.
You have to know that I didn'twant to do what I did, but I had
no choice.
(48:10):
The things were eating him, butthey weren't killing him, not
fast enough.
Anyway, he was in so much painI guess he would have bled out
eventually.
But I wasn't thinking aboutthat at the time.
I was thinking about Evie,about how, someday she was gonna
ask me how her father died.
(48:30):
What was I supposed to tell her?
I couldn't tell her.
I couldn't tell her the truth.
I couldn't tell her what I saw,what I heard.
The only thing I could say wasthat I didn't let him suffer.
So, yes, sir, I cut his throat.
I had to.
(48:52):
It was the quickest way to endit.
Believe me, if you were there,you would have done the same
thing, wouldn't you?
Speaker 1 (49:08):
There's so much to say about this story.
The first thing that comes tomind, though, is that there's
elements of this that reallyremind me of some of those early
HG Wells stories that we citedin the very first episode of
this series, especially in theCrystal Egg from 1897.
And this is certainly notone-to-one, but there's
something about having this itemright this rock or this crystal
(49:32):
egg and it has somethingunknown about it or something
horrible, right that turns outto be.
I just also love how Warren'swriting is so contained and he
creates such a vivid picture andthis is always the case with
stories that he sends to us buthe creates a really vivid
picture while really focusing ontwo people, two or three people
(49:52):
in this case, right, you havethe complexity of the story
being told to us by somebodyelse through their observations,
and then you also have thedepths of the relationship
between the child and the dad,especially how the dad feels
about the child, and thesymbology of taking this thing
for Evie.
There's just so much richnessto it on top of the horror,
obviously.
That is certainly there in thiscase.
(50:13):
And then, at the end, right,this really difficult decision,
but the right thing to doultimately and yeah, I think
Warren brings us on thisemotional journey and I love
genre fiction that can take ussomewhere meaningful and feels
really relatable even thoughthis is taking place right in
some kind of celestial miningcolony, we still understand the
(50:36):
baseline feelings and the horrordoesn't come from necessarily
the fact that it's taking placein this really rare setting.
It comes from the interpersonalrelationships and the terror
that's involved, and that'ssomething that's really
relatable.
And I have to say I think it'sreally poignant the way Warren
ends the story with a questionto you know, in this case, the
(50:56):
person that the narrator istalking to, but by default it
becomes a question for theaudience.
Wouldn't you do the same?
And I think sometimes that's ahard decision, right, and you
never know really what you woulddo until you're in a situation
like that.
But I like a story that asks usto question and reflect.
And of course, we have to shoutout to narrator Michael Crosa,
who did such an incredible jobbringing this story to life, as
(51:19):
he always does.
Again, thank you so so much toall three writers, to all three
narrators Warren Benedetto, nickYoung, ss Fitzgerald, michael
Crosa, john C Cook.
You guys have done such a greatjob bringing this episode to
life and thank you all forlending your generous talents in
the different ways that youhave.
(51:40):
And I'm so thrilled that wehave one more episode with two
really fantastic epic storiescoming for you in a few weeks.
So the Space Horror Sagacontinues and, of course, please
check out all of the links inthe description of this podcast
to stay up to date.
Check out people's books,support their work in different
ways.
We really appreciate building acommunity of writers and
(52:02):
narrators and fiction lovers,horror lovers, space horror
lovers through these podcastepisodes.
So thank you all for checkingout their work and supporting
them in whatever way that youcan.
I hope everybody is hanging inthere as best as you can.
We are always here.
Check us out on Discord, dm uson any social media.
We're especially happy tocontinue to build community this
(52:25):
year in whatever ways.
This community needs to evolveand adapt right.
Talk to you all soon.
Bye.
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