The Four Baristas of the Apocalypse (sample)

Chapter 5

"And he was good at his job.  He selected planets that were easy targets and his research made them even more so.  One by one, planet after planet, wars were waged, civilisations were destroyed and hats got made.  Everyone was happy.  Everyone except Flixl.  Oh, and the enslaved people.  They weren't very happy.  But anyway, with every planet that fell, a little niggling feeling was growing inside Flixl.  A little niggling feeling that maybe, just maybe, destroying entire cultures in the pursuit of cheap shoes was, well—wrong.  A bit.

"As a Rigellian he was basically a borderline clinically-insane warmonger, and it was in his nature to love seeing planets burn.  But as a scientist, he couldn't help but wonder about the opportunities that were being lost.  What unknown marvels were being destroyed?  What technologies might the civilisations they were conquering come up with, if only they were allowed to flourish?

"His researchers reported on the magical three-dimensional light symphonies being created by the sky-composers of Ziinra.  They spoke of the telepathic and empathetic bond the Skwawn people of Hola had developed with the plants and animals of their world, creating perfect ecological harmony.  He learned of the shimmering crystal city of Erresemia, perched high atop the mountain of Slen, one of the engineering marvels of the galaxy.  And then he watched as they were all blasted into oblivion.  In the pursuit of hats."

"Hang on, so you're saying there are other types of aliens out there?  Besides the short ones that are invading us?" asked Cam.

"Oh yeah, stacks.  More than you could vibrate a branch at."

"So why haven't we ever seen any of them?"

Ethlukjamson rolled his eyes.  "Pfft.  Radio telescopes?  Rocket powered spacecraft?  No unified theory of everything?  Oh puh-lease.  I'm surprised you guys can even see your own butts."

Cam considered this.  "But we can't see our own butts."

"Huh?"

"We can't see our own butts.  We can see other people's butts, but we can't see our own.  You'd need a reversible head.  Or a mirror."

"Two, actually," added Max.  "Two mirrors are better, for looking at your own butt."  Several seconds of silence passed, before he realised that everyone was now looking at him.  He cleared his throat.  "Er, yeah," he mumbled, gesturing for the hologram to continue, "you were saying?"

Ethlukjamson gave up trying to look at his own butt, and went on.  "Anyway.  Eventually, Flixl came across Earth.  As usual, he sent in scouts to explore this new world, he scanned its broadcasts, he abducted a few human specimens to investigate, and so on.  And he found that Earth was perfect—no advanced weapons, lots of raw materials, a ready-made population to enslave, existing platform-sole technology—jackpot, stilettos for everyone.  But of course, he also found that Earth had its own wonders."

"Like the Great Barrier Reef?" asked Cam.  "Or the Himalayas?  Or the music of Mozart, or the writings of Shakespeare?  That kind of stuff?"

"Well—sort of. As the reports from Earth continued to come in, Flixl noticed an intriguing pattern emerging—Earth appeared to have a startling abundance of big things."

The baristas exchanged a look. "Big things?" queried Cora. "What do you mean? Blue whales? Mount Everest?"

The hologram shook his head. "Not those kind of big things. Most planets have big stuff, so there's nothing special about that. Those things are supposed to be big. No, what Flixl noticed were big things that were supposed to be small. Well, smaller, anyway."

Cam considered this. "Right." He considered some more. "Huh?"

Ethlukjamson looked from one barista to another. "C'mon, you guys must know about these big things—you actually have more than your fair share, here in Australia. There's a big pineapple and a big banana and a big lobster and all kinds of other stuff. Then there's a big buffalo in America and a big apple in Canada and a big—"

"Hang on," interrupted Max. "Are you talking about roadside attractions? Those kind of big things?"

Ethlukjamson frowned. "Yes, Flixl was quite perturbed at the apparent reckless indifference with which you guys treated these amazing technological achievements—parking them alongside highways, or plonking them on golf courses—quite shocking . Nevertheless, the satellite and drone images were unequivocal—despite Earth's primitive stage of development, it was clear that your scientists had somehow cracked the secret that has eluded Rigel's finest minds—the secret that would solve the Rigellian's vertically-challenged woes—the secret of how to make small things bigger. Or more importantly, in their case, how to make short things taller."

Surreptitiously, Cam leaned towards Max. "Should we tell him?" he whispered.

Max gave the barest shake of his head. "Nah," he whispered back. "Let's see where this goes."

"So," continued Ethlukjamson, "Flixl decided he couldn't allow this technology to be lost.  He secretly recruited a few like-minded individuals from among his team, and with a little financial assistance from a benevolent outside party, set up a secret lab.  And then he set to work designing a weapon.  A weapon that would give the puny Earthlings a chance to fight off their oppressors.  Maybe not a good chance.  But a chance, nonetheless.

"But, Flixl had a problem.  For all their embiggening abilities, the Earthlings were still a primitive and pretty stupid lot.  How could he entrust them with a weapon of awesome destructive power?  They might just use it on each other, as their history showed they had done time and again.  Or maybe they actually would try to use it on the Rigellians and just simply point the wrong end at them.  It was a dilemma.

"As the day of the invasion loomed, he finally came up with a solution.  A solution befitting the brilliance of the greatest genius Rigel has ever produced.  He wouldn't give the humans a weapon.  Oh, no.  Instead he would turn some of the humans into weapons."

Ethlukjamson grinned at his audience.  "Hands up if you can guess who gets to be those weapons."