By M.C Feng
There are few things I enjoy more than telling guests that the gooey stuff coming out of Space Egg is what the scientists call ‘Space Smegma’. Of course, this isn’t true. But I have to entertain myself somehow. Surprisingly being the “Head of Public Viewing and Extra Terrestrial Engagement” can get boring sometimes.
I said my favourite line yesterday to a timid looking boy who had just reached the front of the viewing line — my viewing line. The boy had stared at the Space Egg, mouth agape, clutching at his mother’s arm. I’d heard the boy asking his mother what that “sap stuff” coming from the Space Egg was, and had resolved to enlighten him.
“Space smmmmmeggma. Space smegma,” the boy had repeated to himself in an expressionless whisper. The boy’s mother pulled him closer to herself, and had shot me an icy look.
“Put your phone away, Simon. You don’t need to look that word up,” she’d said, still leering at me. But it was too late. The boy had stared at his phone with an expression of confusion and disgust. I hid my laughter by covering my mouth with my open hand.
***
A few days before, the Space Egg had emitted a low, reverberating groan, not unlike the sounds heard ad-nauseum on documentaries about blue whales. The people in the viewing line jumped back, and some people even ran out of the facility.
“All good, people. All good. Space Egg is just trying to talk to us. It means no harm,” I had yelled to the crowd. There was one group that seemed entirely undeterred though. At the front of the line was this rotund, red-faced man who was trying — without much success — to fit all seven of his snot-nosed children into frame with Space Egg. I’m sure it would’ve been a lovely photo.
“Alright, time’s up. On you go. Vamos. We’ve still got 500 more VIPs to go,” I had said, raising my hand to signify that their time was up.
“Come on, Man. We paid a thousand bucks for this. One more minute,” he huffed.
“Seccccc-uuuuuuurity,” I said in a rising voice.
“Little shit,” the father muttered as he steered his little platoon towards the exit.
He’s right. I am a little shit — an entirely undeserving little shit. Here I am, the drop-kick son of a distinguished scientist finally making something of himself. “Head of Public Viewing and Extra Terrestrial Engagement” at the newly formed Extra-Terrestrial Department, thank you very much. And I damn-well let people know about it. Yeah — my Dad is the ‘go to’ in this whole thing — the Robert Oppenheimer of Extra-Terrestrial studies. Yeah — no one was gonna say no his choice. Yeah — nepotism… blah, blah, blah. But that doesn’t bother me. For the first time in my life, I’m somebody. And I’m making my old man proud. And all of the people from my town who had made fun of me, called me a ‘loser’, are pretty silent now.
About the Author
M.C Feng
M.C is a silly email bot by day, and a silly story writer by night.
He enjoys writing irreverent and light-hearted stories spanning multiple genres.
Our weekly podcast features the stories from recently published issues, often narrated by the authors themselves.
Barry Yedvobnick is a recently retired Biology Professor. He performed molecular biology and genetic research, and taught, at Emory University in Atlanta for 34 years. He is new to fiction writing, and enjoys taking real science a step or two beyond its known boundaries in his
Emma Louise Gill (she/her) is a British-Australian spec fic writer and consumer of vast amounts of coffee. Brought up on a diet of English lit, she rebelled and now spends her time writing explosive space opera and other fantastical things in
Tim Borella is an Australian author, mainly of short speculative fiction published in anthologies, online and in podcasts.
Mark is an astrophysicist and space scientist who worked on the Cassini/Huygens mission to Saturn. Following this he worked in computer consultancy, engineering, and high energy research (with a stint at the JET Fusion Torus).
Sarah Jane Justice is an Adelaide-based fiction writer, poet, musician and spoken word artist.
Geraldine Borella writes fiction for children, young adults and adults. Her work has been published by Deadset Press, IFWG Publishing, Wombat Books/Rhiza Edge, AHWA/Midnight Echo, Antipodean SF, Shacklebound Books, Black Ink Fiction, Paramour Ink Fiction, House of Loki and Raven & Drake
Chuck McKenzie was born in 1970, and still spends much of his time there.
My time at Nambucca Valley Community Radio began back in 2016 after moving into the area from Sydney.
Merri Andrew writes poetry and short fiction, some of which has appeared in Cordite, Be:longing, Baby Teeth and Islet, among other places.
Alistair Lloyd is a Melbourne based writer and narrator who has been consuming good quality science fiction and fantasy most of his life.
Ed lives with his wife plus a magical assortment of native animals in tropical North Queensland.
Margaret lives the good life on a small piece of rural New South Wales Australia, with an amazing man, a couple of pets, and several rambunctious wombats.
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