Chapter 8

"He said I'm not real."

"Ah ha!" said Keirstann.

"Stevie ... Stevie ... don't cry ... he's just a man. What does he know," said Britt.

The hugging and mashing of tits began and I'll have to say ... it was almost as erotic as what Stevie wanted to do with me ... or better. The hugging and squeezing proceeded out of the hanger and I was almost alone.

"Well," said Ricky/HAL, "There goes your pussy ... even I know better than to tell an android/construct/hologram that looks like that she's not real ... and I'm new at this."

"But ... she's not."

"You already have ... err ... had ... two absolute foxes that are real ... did you ever think all this is a figment of your imagination? Or maybe a dream?"

"Oh god ... I hope not. Those two are the finest pussy I ever had."

As you might have guessed, I screwed the pooch. In case you're not conversant with 1950's slang ... I fucked up royally. It's been ... oh ... three weeks since I been laid ... or even had someone to talk to besides HAL/Ricky.

I'm still living in the boat ... because the ship won't let me out of the equipment bay. I grouched a lot. Finally, HAL/Ricky broke down and gave me a tour. So ... you get one too. It's going to be boring ... this thing is huge.

When we were 'rescued' by the spider The hole in the hull of the ship was about the size of a football field on its side. 100 yards by 50 yards ... American football, not futbal (soccer). We're on the other side of the sun right now and pretty much in earth orbit ... the sun is hard to see through. I don't think earth knows we're here. The ship is smarter than that.

The hole in the hull of the ship is still there. There's no door but we're not losing air ... some kind of forcefield ... HAL/Ricky said 'forcefield' was as far as any earth language or concept we had could go ... but it was a much bigger deal and there wasn't any sense in trying to explain it ... humans didn't have the math or science. We've been conditioned to think in three dimensions and that limits us.

Anyway, time isn't the forth dimension ... it's way up there in the experimental range. Time seems to be one of the problems with our planet. Time waits for no one. isn't a concept in the spiders race. No one waits for time, is more how they see it.

Now, it sounds like I'm saying spiders are the owners of the ship ... that's not true. The spiders are hirelings. Paid captain of a big yacht fits. They go where the owner sends them. OK?

When we were rescued and the boat was brought through the hole, our wreck was shuttled to one corner behind the bulkhead. Except it's not a bulkhead. The entire ship isn't metal ... not plastic ... not anything extant on earth ... unless it could be explained as poured magma. Not so. Spun something. HAL/Ricky showed me one being 'made.' Built doesn't work. Hatched? He said the concept was so foreign that it would be millions of years in the future before humans could grasp the idea. We don't think in those terms.

I told him about vacuum forming thin plastic around a mould, and he said, 'Good enough.'

Take a series of collapsable moulds inside a huge hollow egg. Fill the egg with what ever this stuff is and freeze-dry it ... what comes out is seamless and solid. This stuff is like glass ... a liquid solid. If there's supposed to be a door ... walk through it ... you can't walk through to outside. The ship is smarter than that.

The hole in the side is 100 yards ... there's at least 100 hundred yards of ship on either side of the hole. The equipment bay is three hundred yards long ... give or take. The bay is one tenth of the length of the ship ... three thousand yards from tip to tail and half that in diameter ... and it's a scout.

A scout directed by one being. A mother ship has ten thousand scouts and making more every day. Billions of beings live and think on a mothership and there's millions of motherships. I'm not helping, am I? Just saying it as I understand it ... and I don't ... understand it.