The Star Who Fell to Earth (Orgasmic Ectoplasmic Edit) IT WAS, TO PARAPHRASE PHIL COLLINS, JUST ANOTHER DAY IN PARADISE13. There was a blackout at 5am but Paul didn't realize until 9am because his clock radio was dead. Just bad luck, he thought driving the 60 kilometers to work when he felt a drag on the freeway and pulled over to find his rear tire flat. It's not the end of the world, he decided, I won't be too late! and then he spent an hour and a half flagging down traffic until, on such a hot and blustery day, a carload of flannies14 screeched up and told him to get the fuck out of their country. Paul began contemplating Murphy's Law and cosmic conspiracy theories, but his boss wasn't buying any of it. <<You could always move out of the sticks>> he suggested, insensitively. <<Don't talk to me about alienation>> Kristi complained when he got home from the office. <<At least you're not stuck in Paradise all day, every day.>> An evening of gameshows and sitcoms on top of that would have been unbearable. After dinner he went for a stroll not knowing if he would ever come back. Near their house a knobby hill protruded from the sprawl of identikit yellow brick homes and pebble driveways. A narrow lane lined with native shrubs and eucalyptus trees wound up to the Paradise Estate Lookout, a garden bench with panoramic views of the outer suburban developments. The bench had been popular with local lovers until a rapist started stalking the undergrowth, but Paul wasn't worried tonight. He slumped back in the bench and stared at that vaster panorama above him, those thousands of stars and the planets that must orbit them and the life that must inhabit them and he thought: I wonder what they are doing now? As he was looking at Orion, something sparked in the center of the saucepan. "Hell>> Paul whispered, waiting for the streak. Although he was not superstitious, the psychological boost of a meteor was urgently prescribed. But the light stayed still. If it was a plane flying at just the right angle to appear motionless, where was the red navigation light? If it was a satellite, why wasn't it moving? This was getting really out there, man!. The spark looked out of place in such a familiar constellation, fuzzier than the Orion Nebula, no hang on, it was steadying into a star, brighter than Bellatrix. The thing was gaining luminosity by the second! Wait till he told Kristi about it. <<It must be a weather balloon," she'd say <<or Venus, or your imagination!" but Paul knew that he was on to something more profound. The object was burning ever stronger, fierce as red Betelgeuse, the armpit of the hunter, in 10 astounding minutes as dazzling as the left leg of the giant. It was about that time that Paul remembered where was and how long he had been sitting out here. Surging with an elation he could not comprehend, he ran home with his eyes still fixed skywards. <<HAVE YOU SEEN THE new star?>> was the most exchanged question round the watercooler next morning. <<Firstly, it's not new, and it's not a star anymore>> explained Paul's supervisor, Suleyman. The old Turk knew fucking everything. <<The papers said it used to be a star too faint to see but for some reason it blew up last night. Went supernova.>> Whatever it was or however far away, it was clear from the beginning that this conflagration would be a welcome reprieve not only from the drudgery of the rat race, but also from the more existential threats of the day. There were any number of crises, all threatening to merge into the ultimate megacrisis. The mother of all cataclysms, as foretold by Saddam Hussein. One fragment of the kaleidoscope which had particular resonance for Paul: the final status talks between Israelis and Arabs had broken down again, throwing into peril the future of the longawaited Palestinian state. To complicate matters, Iran had just successfully tested a nuclear explosive. That had crossed an obvious red line for Israel, the United States, and all of their allies. The entire Middle East was a tinderbox in fact, waiting for any old spark to ignite. Even in more moderate nations like Egypt or Jordan, the mood was revolutionary. Of course, Australia was a world removed from any these flashpoints, and Paradise Estate was at least another magnitude or two more sheltered still. Armageddon could ravage all Creation assisted by the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and the good citizens would scarcely notice. Which was kind of reassuring to Kristi, but infuriating for Paul. Humans had an innate need for conflict, and without an external enemy to rail against, will start fighting amongst themselves. Lately Paul had taken to working late, not because he enjoyed it, but rather to avoid the claustrophobic atmosphere at home. <<It's not as if I don't enjoy your company>> Suleyman said one evening one deserted evening. <<But don't you have a home to go to?>> <<We've got a big presentation coming up>> he sheepishly replied. <<I just want to make sure all the figures tally up.>> It was a typical remark for an accountant; Suleyman was convinced. En route to the carpark, he passed a young secretary wearing a glasses and a navy pants suit. The name on her employee card read "Kiri". She smiled at him, and asked <<Don't tell me Suleyman has got you working too? That man is a tyrant.>> <<He's not all that bad>> Paul said. <<Actually, I'm just on my way home, and was wondering if you needed a lift?>> THE SUPERNOVA WAS EERILY visible over the freeway. <<So divine!" Kiri blurted, peering up at it from the passenger seat. <<One of the most powerful forces in the universe, in fact. You know, for a brief moment, they can outshine the entire galaxy. What are the odds of one of them blowing up in our lifetime?>> He glanced at the nape of her neck as craned her head upwards, and found it strangely alluring. <<I'd say about the same chance as the fact that we both live in Paradise Estate," he suggested. <<Totally. Like lightyears beyond fortuitous.>> When he finally delivered her to her identikit house in a street very similar to his own, she said: <<Are you interested in astronomy? If you are, we've got this group devoted to heavenly bodies.>> Kiri procured from her handbag a hand-drawn flyer with the title: "Plasma: A Dialogue in Tantra". Paul had no clue what "tantra" meant, but it sounded exotic and enticing. A lot more exciting than the suburban wasteland that surrounded him. THERE WAS A LARGE star painted on the floor of the living room, not your typical occultist pentagram mind you, but a proper Magen David with two interlocking triangles, one pointing up, the other down, just like the Israeli flag. As above, so below, that was the implication. Station to station, Keter to Malkuth, Sahasrara to Muladhara. Around this star, 12 devotees were arrayed including Paul and Kiri, while the "Conductress" stood to one side. For some reason which Kiri didn't explain, the number "13" seemed to be especially "fortuitous". It was a word she liked to use, along with "divine" and "heavenly". The Conductress was a woman called Wanda, and she was dressed in white robes with a gold belt and long golden hair. Presently she hushed for silence, and then began: "On overcast days we feel depressed, and children instinctively fear the dark. But as stars can nourish life, they can also destroy it. In the past months we've seen genocide in Bosnia and Azerbaijan, chemical spills, recessions, and now the threat of nuclear war in the Middle East. We believe that the universe has been traumatized by the death of the body currently known as Supernova 1995A. Tonight, we hope to make contact with the remaining core of its brain.>> Paul scoffed, involuntarily. It was abruptly dawning on him that this was not the "astronomical" gathering that Kiri had promised, but more like a New Ager seance for bored suburbanites. The Conductress ignored him, and continued: <<Ordinarily we denizens of Earth are shielded by the Sun's own solar wind, but the supernova was so intense, it penetrated not only the heliosphere, but the Earth's magnetic field as well. Think of it like a galactic breath of fresh air. It's a one in a million opportunity to undertake interstellar dialogue.>> One of her assistants pressed "play" on a mixtape of clanging, banging Meltcore, presented in a harsh Locrian scale. This time, Paul couldn't control himself. <<Wait, you want to make contact with the star? I mean, you want to fucking speak to it?" Barely had he spoken aloud when the fluorescent bulbs in the room began flickering, spookily. Kiri tapped his shoulder, and he was zapped with an electric shock. He flinched, but then realized that she was handing him a goblet with a mysterious elixir, blood red, which had been hitherto circling around the star. He took a sip, despite himself. <<The human form, frail though it may seem," the Conductress resumed, <<doth harbor an excellent potency for conductivity, especially when in the throes of contemplative reverie. Pile on multiple bodies, and the conduit amplifies, compounding in its resonance. In short," her voice slowing to a sexy husk, "the most enlightening way to commune with stars, as the ancients knew, is to become starlike ourselves: to fuse into giant, squirming, burning ball of ecstasy." A Vietnamese man seated next to Paul tore off his shirt and tackled the nearest female into the star. Suddenly, everyone was into everyone. Paul turned away, revolted. But Kiri grabbed hold of his precious kippah and flung it into the core. He was initially offended, but then removed her glasses, and subjected them to the same fate. Perhaps they could both magnify the gamma rays! <<Let the plasma ionize you," she whispered in his ear, and he knew it was time to hit the fucking floor. <<O Great Conflagration, Element Synthesizer" the Conductress chanted <<we feel your presence, and are blessed. Scold these bodies, Hot Creator, with the fires of your knowledge, before they burn no more. Fill us with your light!" Erupting over him, Kiri cried <<Fill me with your light," and he almost went supernova himself. To his astonishment, he beheld a ghostly vapor rising from the mass of writhing, semi-naked bodies. It's like a seance with sex, he thought crazily. <<Pass on the memory of your existence before it dissipates to stardust," Wanda intoned. <<Pass on the secret of your name." The vapor surrounding the star combusted, pulsing a deep and ethereal Uranian blue. To a Meltdown beat miniature flares burst from the corona, arcing into space. Wanda jerked suddenly, as if she was having an orgasm (or maybe being possessed!) Eventually she recommenced speaking, but with an uncannily masculine voice: <<I hear your calls, Spirit Sparks, and respond. I am Helel the Son of Morning, the Lightbearer, I am Mephistopheles, I am Cthulhu rising from the waters..." The ectoplasmic currents churned, frothing with foam. As they changed shape, Paul thought that he could make out a frightening detail: a rocket streaking across a barren and mountainous land, a Klaxon wail, and the distinctive mushroom cloud unleashed by an atomic bomb. <<I am Loki the trickster, I am Melkor, who introduced discord to the First Symphony of the Ainur, I am Iblis," the supernova pronounced. <<I am Kali with a necklace of skulls, I am Ahriman the Corrupter, I am Māra, I am Death itself. I am Chaos and Disorder. Consume my essence, so that you may live. And over-emphasize the darkness that you find in me. That darkness was Tullia's own15." FIRST CONTACT (c)opyright Rob Sullivan 1988-2024. 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