"Let All The Children Boogie!"

The remote control gadget lay on the table and the man contemplated a closer study of the rectangular and square buttons on its keypad; the sealed white envelope next to the remote along with the clear white spacesuit hanging from a hook on the door had one thing in common: the name 'Major Tom' was imprinted in grey lettering on both items. The man could only assume that they were addressed to him; this was probably his name, although he couldn't be too certain. It seemed like many hours had passed by with him seated in the middle of this circular communications chamber...at least that is what he thought it resembled with its extensive array of switches, monitors and processors which confirmed a progressive future of technological determination.

Two minutes ago, the song commenced through the two loudspeakers which were situated above the main operations console in front him, and it was then he noticed a further two speakers located directly behind him; his position in the middle of the floor was the centralised focal point for the audio to penetrate. The voice sounded very familiar including the lyrics which sang into the atmosphere; words that expressed a disturbing celluloid of life that included 'Sailors fighting in the dance hall', and 'Beating up the wrong guy' and then the line of lyrics that asked the insinuating question: 'Is there life on Mars?' Maybe that was it, the man thought to himself, just maybe he was on Mars; his surroundings did not appear out of place with such a potentially fitting conclusion.

He began to focus on the remote control on the table once again, thinking that maybe this was the mechanism that controlled the distinguished voice flowing from the loudspeakers. The light blue coverall was not offering any further resolve and neither were his bare feet; the hairless head that he tentatively brushed with his fingertips only presented an adrenalin rush of confused amazement. The fatigue sensation soon overrode his bewilderment once again; his head drooping into the palm of his left hand followed by the incessant shaking from side to side. He was limited in his ability to lift his right arm; a dead weight; he was also experiencing a stabbing pain in the calf muscle of his right leg. The distinguished voice from the loudspeakers continued to proclaim 'But the film is a saddening bore', and then the thought suddenly occurred to him: a movie set. Yes, he is in a studio; fine actor that he is. The cameras and the crew were not present but the props were in abundance; it had been a nice thought. Try again.

The two monitors on the console separated by a section of dials peered out like the bulging eyes of an electronic dinosaur. The man slowly lifted his head and identified the face taking shape within the map of hardware controls in front of him. A slight apprehension was met with this realisation until the monitors' graphic illustrations detracted from its overpowering features. He rose from the chair and cautiously moved towards the visuals on screen to see if an immediate answer could be recognised. The robotic model diagrams could not unearth any fragments of information in his brain that would cement his awareness of the moment and the reality of his existence. The data that accompanied the mechanical drawings on screen read as follows: 'Mighty Robot' wind-up made by Yonezawa, Japan... 'MR-45' Robot made by Masudaya, Japan...'Mr. Mercury' Robot made by Marx... 'Mr. Amaze-A-Matic' made by Hasbro Industries... 'Nomura Spaceman' made in Japan... END.

The screen to the far left of the central monitors bore the distinctive label of 'reference data – on demand' and the man began to read the transfixed paragraph of words pertaining to 'remote controls': An electronic device used for the remote operation of a machine. The Telekino was presented at the Paris Academy of Science in 1903 and consisted of a robot that executed commands transmitted by electromagnetic waves.

A striking image on the monitor screen situated on the far right of the console featured the robotic appearance of a green face with a protruding eyeball that was being dislodged by the aid of a surgical instrument. The year 1980 intermittently flashed in-between each subsequent image which also featured sexy, purple-wigged females in silver catsuits – enchanting, he thought, not usually aware of having such thoughts and feelings. The man soon discovered that the transmission was from a space-related television series entitled UFO. However, the thought occurred to him that perhaps nineteen-hundred and eighty was the current year of life and maybe the outside world resembled large office buildings, sleek business cars, aircraft being launched from underneath the sea, a world of interceptors, and... green men in red space suits?