Frugnup: A Flash Fiction Story
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| Foxxfyrre being abducted by the Intergalactic Council of Eleven Elders |
"Psst! Foxxfyrre, wake up," Frugnup’s voice echoed sharply inside my skull.
I blinked into the dark, groggy and disoriented. "Okay, I heard you. Wait... I heard you in English."
"Yes. My last probe of your mind taught me your language. I need your help."
"With what?"
A heavy silence followed. Then, my vision was hijacked. Flashes erupted across my mind—vivid, overwhelming images I couldn't comprehend. I saw surreal, impossible landscapes and towering, bioluminescent cityscapes where unknown intelligent species moved about their day. It was a rapid-fire, three-dimensional slideshow playing out on the back of my eyelids.
"What am I seeing?" I thought back, panicking.
"The data logs of the planet we call #Gk-~&*& 3@1nNe Frugnup replied. "In your tongue, it translates to Ancient Paradise. Your astronomers have not discovered it yet."
"Okay... so why am I looking at it?"
"I am embedding this log into your subconscious mind. Once the installation is complete, you will have no conscious memory of it."
"You're dodging the question, Frugnup."
"I am minimizing thought transfer so I do not corrupt the download," Frugnup countered, a rare edge of tension in his mental tone. "Just enjoy the visuals before they are locked away."
The images flooded in faster, a beautiful but deeply unsettling collage of a world entirely alien to anything I knew. It felt like an eternity, a lifetime of culture and geography condensed into a few agonizing minutes of sensory overload. Finally, the slideshow snapped shut.
"You are now the last and only record of a planet that will soon cease to exist," Frugnup thought, his mental voice heavy. "My people are going to destroy it. Completely. Not to conquer it, or enslave its denizens. It is worse than that. The planet contains one of the rarest minerals in the universe—a catalyst for unlimited power. But extracting it will render the world permanently uninhabitable. Our government decided it was more cost-effective to simply reap the planet rather than warn or relocate the billions living there. Cheaper. Quicker."
"That's monstrous," I said, a knot forming in my stomach. "But why me? I can't stop your government."
"No one can stop the destruction now," Frugnup admitted. "But I can hold them accountable for an illegal genocide. This will be our last contact. I am exposing our leadership to the Intergalactic Council of Eleven Elders. I will likely be executed or sent to a penal colony for treason, but the Council will investigate. They will demand proof."
"And I'm the proof?" My heart began to hammer. "You're going to be a martyr, and I'm supposed to just sit here with a hidden database I can't even remember? What if they don't find me?"
"They will. The database isn't just a visual record; it contains the encrypted logs of every secret transaction and illicit meeting our leaders held. I am heading to the Council chambers now. By their laws, the Council will extract the evidence directly from the source."
"Directly? Meaning they're coming for me?"
"Yes. Within the hour by your timeline. This is the last thought we share, Foxxfyrre. Farewell."
The connection severed. The sudden emptiness in my mind left me feeling hollow. I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing.
I thought about Frugnup. He was doing the right thing, and he was going to pay the ultimate price for it. I remembered our first contact, how his untranslated language had felt like a chaotic, buzzing mess in my brain. Yet, he had been so inquisitive, so strangely funny. I remembered how he'd been fascinated by the song stuck in my head that night—The Air That I Breathe by The Hollies. He’d understood the literal words, but couldn't comprehend why a species would write poetry about a basic, involuntary biological function.
Now, a whole world was about to stop breathing.
Suddenly, the bed shook.
Slowly at first, a low-frequency vibration that rattled my teeth. I braced myself, clearing my thoughts and preparing for a mental intrusion.
But this wasn't a telepathic touch. A wave of cold sweat broke out across my skin, accompanied by a sudden, unnatural spike in room temperature.
A blinding, violet light flooded through the window.
A low, mechanical hum filled the air.
Louder. Deafening.
Whooosh.
I don't think I'm in Kelowna anymore.
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