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Great Prose and Poetry

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If - Rudyard Kipling

. . . If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools; . . .

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Great Prose and Poetry
2,243 deviations

“So what’s the pitch?” asked Harper as he strode into the room. “This better not be a waste of my time like last time.”

Swallowing his annoyance, Victor took a seat at the meeting table. They’d been waiting almost an hour for the asshole to make an appearance but sure, they were wasting his time. “I'll leave that for you to decide sir,” he said in his most neutral tone. “But we think it has potential.” He glanced at Sophie, the other dream tech in the meeting room who took that as her cue to begin.

“This one’s a sci-fi,” Sophie said, “Nothing too freaky. Take a look Mr. Harper.” She swiveled in her chair to face the large touch screen in front of her, adjusted her glasses and keyed up one of the images that had been recorded less than twelve hours ago.   

The screen showed a set stage for a kid’s television show. This particular set was of a garage with kitschy objects mounted on the wall. One of the largest objects was something that looked like a robot spider wearing a purple parachute. 

Harper took a seat and pushed a button. A screen slid noiselessly up out of the table. “The hell am I looking at?”   

“According to the dreamer, it’s a multi-dimensional transporter,” Victor said consulting his notes. “Though she’s not sure how it works. Anyway, in the dream, one of the people in charge of props stumbled across it and thought it would be a good conversation piece. There’s a running gag on the erm, show where guest actors try to figure out what it is but of course nobody, including the family, to whom it belongs figures out the truth.”

Sophie keyed up the next set of images and hid a small smile at Harper’s exclamation. “What in the shitting Christ is that?!”

 “That would be an alien sir. It’s come to retrieve the device which it lost at some point in time. Time being relative in this case.”  

Harper repressed a shudder. His thin mouth pursed; the expression of a man who’d bitten into a rancid slice of lemon. The alien on his screen looked like a giant, squishy tuber―misshapen with thin root-like appendages and too many eyes. He couldn’t have explained why of all the disturbing images he’d seen this in particular made him psychically react but he felt like a child who’d just discovered the boogeyman was real.

Still, he was a professional. He had a job to do. His expression smoothed out, he glanced at his watch. “So far I’m not impressed. What’s next?”

 “Um, there’s another alien.” Sophie brought up the next set of images. “One that looks like a human boy. He auditions and gets a part on the show so that he can steal the device. He doesn’t know how to use the device but he knows if he holds it ransom then the other alien will come looking for him. What he really wants is its help.”  

“Getting home I presume?”

“Not exactly,” Victor said. “He’s one of the few left of a dying species, and he needs the other alien’s help in order to survive.”

 “But there’s a twist,” Sophie interjected. “The boy-alien is really a parasitic alien that has made a human its host. The human is dying as a result so it wants a more habitable host and the Tuberanian—”  

“The what?”

“The Tuberanian sir. It’s our name for the alien you first saw.”

 “Your name,” Victor corrected. “I wanted something a bit more original.”   

He was rolling his pen back and forth across the table, a nervous habit that irritated Sophie. “Still waiting to hear it,” she snipped.

“Whatever,” Harper said. “So you’re saying this walking Yam is the good guy and the other bad. That could work for a more subversive type of show but every network wants kid friendly nowadays. Easy, brainless pap that won’t make their viewers think too much. People want a protagonist they can identify with. Who's gonna identify with that thing. It'll be too hard a sell.” He rose to his feet and aimed a scowl in Victor’s direction. “Get your head in the goddamn game and give me something I can use. I don’t show Corporate some zeroes soon, they’re gonna shut this department down.”

Harper was headed for the door when Victor called out, “I think you’re wrong sir,” He’d stopped playing with his pen and was sitting straighter in his chair. Sophie’s eyes widened a little.   

Harper turned, his expression faintly amused. “All right Tradmoore. I’ve got twenty years experience in this business but do tell me how I’m wrong and you’re right. You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Do you know how old the dreamer this came from is?” Victor replied in that same quiet but firm voice.  

“And why would I give a shit?”   

“Ten,” Victor told him. His lips twitched. “Her name’s Cassandra Harper, one of the smartest most imaginative kids you could ever meet.”

Harper’s look of surprise was almost comical. “Cassie? My Cassie?”

 Both Victor and Sophie nodded in confirmation.   

As a matter of fact Sophie said, “Most of the show concepts we’ve shown you these last two weeks all came from kids, one of them as young as five.”

There was a moment of silence then something approaching a genuine smile lifted Harper’s lips. “Figures.” He appeared to mull something over. “I could pitch the idea over at Nightshade. I hear they’re looking to shake up their programming a little and they may be willing to gamble on a show like this, ugly ass non-humanoid and all. Lemme sleep on it.” With that last, he opened the door and strode out.

 

When the door had closed, the two dream techs exchanged grins.

 “You know they probably won’t go for it over at Nightshade,” Sophie said. “But good job figuring out his soft spot.”   

Victor crossed the middle and index fingers of his right hand. “Whether they go for it or not, let’s hope he never finds out I lied.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Business of Dreams
Based on a dream I had.

Can anybody thing of a better name than Tuberanian? If so I'd love to hear it.
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Tell me the scariest thing that ever happened to you or scariest story you've ever heard. 

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leyghan
Rosie
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Saint Kitts and Nevis
Current Residence: St. Kitts
Favourite genre of music: Anything that moves me
Favourite style of art: Fantasy, gothic
Operating System: Vista
Skin of choice: His
Favourite cartoon character: Batman FTW
Personal Quote: In matters of taste, there is no dispute
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Nothing Gold Can Stay - Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

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:iconbrassteeth:
brassteeth Featured By Owner 2 days ago
Thanks.
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Carmalain7 Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2014
Much appreciate the favorite on my descent into the nature of humanity piece, Halcyon Days, good miss.

Thank you so much for imparting through the favorite that it managed to find a place within you, it means ever so much.
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SRSmith Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014   Writer
Happy December, and Thank You!
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CosmicQueenie Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2014  Student Digital Artist
HOOOOO SHIT SOOOOON!!!! 

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leyghan Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
:aww: You're welcome!
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CosmicQueenie Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Seriously though, you're so awesome! D8 

I wasn't expecting someone to be so giving, oh my gosh I love you! 
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SeaPlume Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014  Student General Artist
Thank you so much for the :+fav:!
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oviedomedina Featured By Owner Nov 30, 2014
Thank you for the favorite!
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Thank you very much!
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YppleJax Featured By Owner Nov 29, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the storm of favorites and comments and for watching! :D

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