Stellar Nurseries

Metaforce

The noonday sun hung low in the winter sky, casting long shadows across the High Street. However, there was just enough light that when Maria looked up into the washed-out blue of the sky, she could see the misty shape of the metaform that hovered over the town. To Maria, the metaform looked like an insectoid Buddha: its long, spindly limbs held in a position of prayer. And, if she squinted into the sun, Maria was sure that she could see a pair of glowing eyes that seemed to bore deep into her soul. The sensation of being observed and judged made Maria feel uneasy. After all, she had seen at first hand what the metaforms had done when they first arrived: the dead bodies; the towns flattened from on high; the battlefields where the peace of the dead now reigned. The world had welcomed the metaforms and their bringing an end to conflict; but only a few cared about the price that had been paid.

Halfway along the street, a group of men and women were handing out leaflets to everyone who passed by. Their colourful robes - a mixture of red, blue, orange and gold cloth - made them stand out from the dark winter clothes that everybody else was wearing. Maria looked around, searching for a way to get past the pamphleteers without having to acknowledge them. But the group had spread themselves across the street in such a way that, no matter which route Maria took, she would pass within arm's reach of at least one of them. Maria held back, then joined a knot of shoppers making their way down the High Street, through the blockade.

"Hey, miss!" A henna-tattooed hand thrust a flyer into Maria's path. Instinctively Maria stopped, recoiled. "Hey! Miss!" the owner of the hand said again - this time more emphatically. He was a young man who might have been attractive if he had trimmed his beard and cut off the ragged dreadlocks that hung around his shoulders.

"I'm in a hurry," Maria said. She tried to step back into the crowd, to fade into anonymity; but the midday shoppers had gone on their way, leaving her behind.

"Just a minute. Please, miss?" The young man continued to wave his leaflet in front of Maria. The smell of cold, stale incense filled the air around him.

Maria glared at him. "If I take your damned piece of paper, will you leave me alone?"

"But there's so much -."

Maria didn't let the young man finish his speech. "Deal!" She snatched at the pamphlet, pulling it out of the leafleteer's startled hand. Then, taking advantage of his hesitation, Maria hurried away.

"But ... !" His voice was lost in the hubbub of the street.

Maria turned right and hurried down a side street, heading for the coffee shop where she was going to meet her friend. The coffee shop had a single, large, plate glass window that looked onto the churchyard opposite. In good weather the owner of the shop would put tables out for his clientele. Today, the cafe was full of shopworkers and local businesspeople buying coffee and sandwiches 'to go'. The only people taking advantage of the tables were the hardy smokers, busy satisfying their twin cravings for nicotine and caffeine.

At the back of the coffee shop, next to the entrance to the bathroom, was a table set out for two. As she threaded her way through the crowd of customers, Maria could see that her friend Jean was already sitting at the table, her attention focussed on the screen of her phone. She didn't react until Maria sat down opposite her.

"Hello."

Jean looked up, blinking myopically through at Maria through her glasses. "Maria, I -."

"Didn't see me?" Maria put her bag on the table. "I'm not surprised." She glanced down at Jean's phone. "What's so interesting?"

"I'm just catching up on the gossip," Jean replied. "But now you're here, I'll pay attention to you." She slipped her phone into the pocket of her coat, then caught sight of the leaflet that Maria had wedged under her bag. "What you got there?"

Maria followed her friend's glance. "Just something that was being handed out in the street." She pulled the pamphlet from under her bag, then smoothed it out on the table. It was the first time that Maria had looked at the pamphlet since it had been thrust at her.

The flyer was a single sheet of paper that had been folded into three. The front of the flyer was emblazoned with the words "WHAT DO THEY WANT?" in black letters, each an inch high. A logo of some kind - hand-drawn, Maria presumed - had been printed beneath the bannerline. Opening the pamphlet up, the first thing Maria saw was a grainy picture of a shadowy figure with pale, wide eyes. Maria recognised it straight away.

"Isn't that one of those ... ?" Jean flapped her hands helplessly, then grabbed the leaflet and turned it so that both she and Maria could read it at the same time. "One of those metaphors?"

"Metaform," Maria corrected her. She turned so she could see out of the plate glass window at the front of the cafe, but the lunchtime crowd blocked her view. Even though she couldn't see it, Maria could still feel the presence of the metaform above the town. "Like the one out there." Her tone was distracted. Maria turned her attention back to Jean and the pamphlet. "So, what does it say?"

Jean read one side of the leaflet then the other, scanning the text quickly. "Just some nonsense about what the author thinks those metaform things are up to." She looked up at Maria. "Like anyone knows." She turned the pamphlet back to the illustration of the giant figure.

As soon as she saw it, Maria felt her mouth turn dry and her pulse start to quicken. In a panic she snatched at the leaflet, crumpling it up and jamming it into her bag.

Jean gave her friend a shocked look. "What was that for?"

Once again, Maria tried to look out of the coffee shop window. Even though she couldn't see any more than the cafe's patrons and the grey stone of the nearby church, Maria was sure that the thing in the sky was turning its great head towards her and focusing its pale yellow eyes on her. In her mind's eye she saw the metaform reaching out from on high, its limb descending towards the coffee shop to crush it, her and everybody in it - !

"Are you alright?" Jean had hold of Maria's arm and was shaking it to bring Maria out of her fugue.

Maria took a deep breath and fixed a weak smile to her face. "I'm fine," Maria said. "Fine. Just -." She paused. "Just fine."

Jean let go of her friend's arm. "Are you sure?"

"I don't like it when people wonder about what they want." Maria glanced up towards the ceiling to emphasise her meaning. "It's bad enough that they're here - watching us, waiting for us to do something they don't like - without idiots like those asking stupid questions and making stupid guesses." Her voice took on a brittle edge. "I've seen what they can do - what they have done - at first hand. Sure, they may have brought peace, made every warmongering bastard a thin smear; but ... ." Maria took a deep breath to steady herself.

Jean broke in. "But what about - ?"

Maria waved her friend into silence. "No. I've heard those arguments before. Too many times. And they don't make any more sense, no matter how many times somebody repeats them." She pushed back her chair and stood up. "I'm sorry, Jean. I've got to go."

"No. I'm sorry," Jean said. "Look, when do you want to get together again?" But Maria had gone, pushing her way through the lunchtime throng and heading for the street outside.

By now the sun had reached its zenith, and the upper stories of the nearby shops and offices were lit by a cold, white light. Maria glanced up at the sky, hoping that maybe - just maybe - the metaform would have gone, moved on to watch over some other place. But it was still there: its smokelike body almost invisible in the harsh, winter sunlight. For a moment Maria considered stopping in the middle of the street and screaming at it, challenging it to take notice of her and to destroy her - just like it and and the others like it had destroyed so many others in the name of 'peace'.

But she didn't. Instead, Maria lowered her head and tried to lose herself in the lunchtime crowd.

* * * * * * *

The theme for this issue was 'peace'. But, peace does not necessarily mean happiness. If aliens were to come to Earth and enforce a state of peace on us, I doubt that humans would take kindly to it. But would we try to rebel against our fate, or would we just knuckle under and go slowly mad, unable to cope with the loss of our free will?