Qualifying round for the Fabulous Spec-Fic Smackdown 2024: Write a speculative fiction story based on the picture below.
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Word count = 658
"How do you explain this, Mr. Wyatt?" Agent Striker growled, hovering over me. He and his three cohorts, wearing black suits and dark sunglasses, could have been extras for the 'Men in Black' movies. Three science-nerd types in white jackets pecked at keyboards behind me.
Seated within a hastily erected portable structure, I gawked as my eyes drifted to the window. Piercing through the artic tundra were a scattered set of humongous cubes, as if giants had played dice. They glowed other-worldly orange — just like in my Wattpad story.
Obviously, the free cruise I won to Greenland was just a ruse.
"Well, Mr. Wyatt?" Striker hissed menacingly.
"It's fiction," I answered. "Didn't you read the disclaimer? Any resemblance to, umm, whatever, is purely coincidental."
"We don't believe in coincidence, Mr. Wyatt. Your story described the anomalies perfectly, right down to the neutrino emissions and extraterrestrial origins." Striker got in my face, revealing his lunch included garlic seasoning. "Wattpad is a known subversive agency harboring aliens. So, Mr. Wyatt, are you an alien?"
"You mean like space aliens? Oh, hell no," I answered. "There's no such thing. Science fiction really is fiction, Agent Striker."
"Funny, Mr. Wyatt." He wasn't actually smiling.
"What do you want from me?"
Striker put on a chilling grin. "You're going to help us access the anomalies. Just like in your story."
Crystalline snow crunched under my boots as I approached the humming energy grid that surrounded the cubes. In my story, the hero's biometrics allowed him to pass through the otherwise impenetrable shield. That the agents watched from behind a bunker didn't fill me with confidence. Blue bolts danced across the transparent surface when I touched it, sending tingles up my arm.
"Get on with it, Mr. Wyatt," Striker yelled, "or spend the rest of your miserable life in a deep, dark cell."
"Got it."
Steeling my resolve, I pressed forward. A thousand chills prickled my skin, but I passed through the shield unharmed. It reformed behind me, just like in the story, locking the agents out. I turned around and wiggled my fingers, putting on a sarcastic, toothy smile. Never thought it possible that Agent Striker's scowl could deepen, but it did.
I walked among the cubes in awe. Were they really of interstellar origin? Up close, the shimmering orange light they emitted had a soothing quality, not at all threatening.
From the cube before me, a round door opened like a camera iris. I shielded my eyes from the dazzling white light as a silhouetted, lanky figure emerged. Green skin, oversized slanted oval eyes, enlarged forehead, and twin wiggly antennas — everything about this alien was cliché. Just like in my story.
The alien extended a three-finger hand. "Ricky Wyatt, you have caused quite a stir. I am pleased to finally meet you face-to-face."
"Have we met otherwise?"
"You know me as Jinn on Wattpad."
"Really? The Jinn who tortures SmackDown participants with bizarre prompts? Thought there was something strange about you."
The alien bowed. "The one and only."
"So Wattpad does harbor aliens?"
"Oh, the Wattpad management is clueless, but we use the platform to send coded messages within stories. Many of the Ambassadors are fellow extraterrestrials in hiding. A shame Wattpad took away the personal message function, though."
"Yeah, that kinda sucked." I pointed toward a glowing cube. "These really are dimensional transport conduits, just like in my story?"
"They are."
"Could have hidden them better."
The alien let out a sigh. "They were safely hidden within a glacier, but then, you know, global warming..."
After a moment of awkward silence, I said, "My story really was a coincidence. I had no idea..."
"We know," the alien said, nodding. "A statistical incongruity. You are not that bright."
"So, what happens now?"
The alien motioned toward a cube. "We put you in our protective program for the alien aware. That is, as long as you pledge to never write speculative fiction again."
*****
Umm, this is the part where the author states that this is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this story are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
