The Hipster From Outer Space (The Hipster Trilogy Book 1) (32 page)

A Moon Called Othos

Bugs of some kind crawled over him, waking him. He slapped them away from his face, hitting his nose. He opened his eyes and saw the skies above him. They were blue. There were some clouds. There were also two moons hanging in the sky along with a giant sandy brown orb. It filled half of the sky.
 

He sat up, coughed and sneezed, and looked around himself. He was surrounded by miles of grass, taller than he was when he sat down. He heard the crying of flying animals overhead and even spotted one in the distance. He was still in the clothes — neck fabric and shirt and trousers. He heard a buzzing of an angry little animal around him. He quickly realised it was coming from his leg. He pulled the trouser leg up and saw the beast — red shell with yellow dots about the size of his fingernail. He screamed and slapped it, crushing it against his skin. He scratched the bottom of his legs until they felt sore and then started on his torso, lifting the white cotton human shirt to get at his stomach. His whole body crawled with life. Insects, he thought, moving around in his body hairs, biting and nesting. The thought of it made him sick.
 

“Hello,” he said, thinking he heard something behind him. “Who’s there —”

He stopped talking as he looked further down the open field. Over a hill on the horizon there was a line of trees, and behind that, a plume of smoke rising towards the clouds.
 

He stood and began making his way towards it. As he walked his body itched less, but he soon felt his back and his head become damp with sweat. He wiped it from his nose with his hand and continued, passing more grass … everywhere, more grass. The closer he got the more he could hear. Sounds of humans talking — bustling, working, doing human things. He even heard the occasional meow of an Earth cat. Excited to find his way to some water and food, he picked up the pace, breaking into a run. Once over the hill, he saw the source of the noise quite clearly.
 

Cats … hundreds of them.
 

They were talking like Gary. Conversing. Trading. Gossiping. A town made of wooden hutches and tents made from animal skin. A few lines of dirt marked the roads that intersected the structures. Hundreds of cats were gathered in a square in the centre, exchanging goods for currency, buying food and selling wares. He saw the police of the town — hats of metal with holes for their ears, their paws holding wooden spears with metal points that gleamed in the sun. He even saw a gathering of them sitting with their legs crossed. More religious types, Moomamu presumed.

“Bone’ Ka?” a cat said as it walked up to Moomamu from behind, standing on its two back legs. There were two of them, a grey one and a ginger one. They had a wooden pole between them, full of fish hanging from string. The day’s catch. “Bone kumti polà?”

“I’m a human,” Moomamu said. “Which means I am the master of your species.”

“Gont’ún Neáh?” said the leader, chuckling like a tickled human spawn. “Bone’ Ka Terrick?”
 

Moomamu had heard the language before, but it wasn’t the original. The dialect was a distant relative of something else. Maybe from the planet above them?

“Human?” said the ginger one. “You’re human?”
 
One of its eyes was missing. A line of damaged skin marking a previous fight.

Moomamu soon realised that more of the cats were looking up from the town. The bigger ones of them, carrying sticks and weapons within their claws.

“Yes, human,” Moomamu said, feeling hopeful. He looked down at the gathering of cats. “I’m human!” he shouted, waving his hand as if it was all going to be okay. “It’s all right. I’m just a human. Just one of your superiors.”

“We ain’t seen human for a while,” said the grey cat, talking like an Englishman. “No we have not.” Moomamu noticed the one-eyed ginger cat, licking its lips, its tongue darting in and out. “I can hardly remember what they taste like, Terrick,” he said, his eyes looking at Moomamu like prey.
 

A Thinker’s Dictionary

Cutlery - Eating sticks

Bedroom - Sleeping room

Computer - Computing device

Taps/Faucets - Water points

Wardrobe - Fabric stash box

Toilet - Excretion machine

Tube Train - Mechanical snake-thing

Café - Caffeine house

Money - Currency/Sterling

Seat - Sitting place

Vending machine - Ration dispensing box

Eyelids - Eye-flaps

Steering Wheel - Wheel controls

Throat - Air pipes

Fridge - Refrigeration device

Pyjamas - Sleeping clothes

Toilet - Water room

Hand Dryer - Wall mounted wind machine

END OF BOOK STUFF

So it’s not over. Well, it kind of is, but not really. Moomamu will return in a brand-spanking new adventure —
The Hipster Who Leapt Through Time
. The stakes are raised and we dig a little deeper into who The Light is and his master plan. Oh and there’s Time Travel. So there’s that.

If you enjoyed the book, or even if you kinda liked it, please do me a favour and
LEAVE AN HONEST REVIEW
. I’m an indie author and that means that I don’t have the backing of a huge company with bags of cash to spend on adverts and book tours and skittles. In today’s world, with so many amazing writers out there, reviews are one of the only ways writers break through the obscurity. Plus I’d love to hear your theories on what Moomamu actually is. In the lore of the universe and as a metaphor for real life.

Many thanks to the following:

My girlfriend and now fiancée. Marvel comics. Star Wars. Early morning coffee. Soho and London in general. My pet cat, Oscar. Clive Barker. My mum and her many dogs. The soundtrack to the TV show, Utopia. Craig Campbell. That little farm near my old house—White Post Farm—a wholesome place where nobody (that I know of) is murdered and fed to pigs. My colleagues at Hawk & Cleaver: Matt, Ben, and now Dan. Matt Clark ‘The Script Guy’. My podcast listeners. Reddit. SciFiIdeas.com. Sean Platt. James Altucher. Deane Ogden. And our lovely editor Steph Dagg.

All the best,

Luke Kondor.

Luke Kondor
is an award-winning filmmaker and writer. He’s written some things about some stuff and has plans to move into writing other things about other stuff. He has a bright future ahead of him … writing words on pages.
 

He’s been featured on iO9, Digg, Raindance, Londonist, and in C41 Magazine.

When he isn’t doing that nonsense, he podcasts, blogs, tweets, and googles.

www.lukekondor.com