This one was really pleasant, initially. I was a student in a town that, like many of my dream environments, was remarkably beautiful. The architecture was unlike anything I’ve seen in reality. For example, there was an apartment building shaped like a bridge:
There were also immense, colorful carnival rides. But built to a higher standard than any I’ve seen before, with brightly colored fiberglass body panels and chrome, like sports cars. Rides they were, nevertheless. A ferris wheel, a carousel, a roller coaster and so on.
I headed out across a grassy field towards the apartments to have a look at the latest unit, which was still under construction. The hollow space inside the “bridge” on this one was not yet furnished, nor enclosed by the two huge panes of glass the others had.
A Native American warrior in full tribal garb charged me, looking ready to fuck me up. I froze in place, unsure whether it was some sort of hidden camera prank or what. He slowed down and stopped maybe ten feet from me. “Pretty realistic, huh?” I asked what his problem was.
He explained he owns this field, and uses it for his business. I apologized for trespassing. “Not at all!” He assured me. “But maybe I can sell you a spot in the historical battle re-enactments my business organizes here?” I was skint, and had no real interest in historical re-enactment, but I followed him back to the white single story rectilinear building he ran his business out of.
It had all sorts of purportedly historically accurate replica arrowheads, muskets, coon skin caps, feather headdresses and more in the window. The gift shop, presumably. He seemed like a really nice guy, he was just barking up the wrong tree. I told him if I’d known it was his field I’d have stayed out, and that as a poor student I couldn’t afford any of this stuff.
He seemed crestfallen. It made me wonder how badly he needed new customers. When I relayed the story to some other locals, they confirmed my suspicions. Everybody liked him, and he had a passion for history, but his business was flagging. I started thinking of ways to help revive it on my way to the carnival.
I couldn’t afford entry, so I snuck in. That turned out to be a bigger mistake than I could ever have anticipated. Pretty soon a siren sounded, and a voice announced over loudspeaker that someone had snuck in without paying. I sought someplace to hide in a panic. But before I could find a spot, the rides began to transform.
Each of the carnival rides turned out to be a transformer, reconfiguring as I watched into colorful, shiny giant robots which then stood in judgement of me. I plead my case but it fell on deaf ears, until the man in the Native American clothing from before ran out before the robots and assured them I was his guest.
I tearfully thanked him, but as soon as we were alone, he told me of a grave plot. “Those robots are building a spaceship.” I didn’t understand why that was a problem, but went along with it, since he’d done me such a huge favor. I followed him into an underground bunker beneath the white building he ran his business out of.
It was a front for accumulating weapons. Most were very out of date because they were bought under the pretense of being used to re-enact historical battles, but he assured me they still worked. I wanted to back out, it was getting too serious for me, but I couldn’t on account of the favor.
“They’re not the only ones who can turn into robots” he informed me, before abruptly transforming into a glorious, gleaming robot resembling Native American totem pole imagery I’ve seen. “You can do it too!” I assured him I couldn’t, and would know if I had such an ability.
He was so sure about it, I wound up trying. To my surprise, I actually transformed into a robot. “They don’t want us common people to know we have the same power” he said, in a conspiratorial tone. “They are the ones who charge me so much to run my business on fair grounds I can barely stay afloat.”
The ticket had been burdensomely expensive too, when I thought about it. I resolved then to join his quest to destroy the robotic, transforming masters of this greedy and exploitative carnival. The key, he insisted, was to destroy their spaceship. I still didn’t understand why, but he plainly knew more about all this than I did.
So the two of us flew up there, unbeknownst to the carnival ride robots (still in their ride form) and wrecked their spaceship, which was not yet finished construction anyway. “Now what?” I asked. He answered that now we would use the remains to build our own spaceship, three times the size.
“What???” It made no sense to me. Apparently whoever built a spaceship here would own the fairgrounds. So we did it, rebuilding the spaceship three times the size it was originally. He clasped my shoulder, making a clanging sound as metal impacted metal.
“I knew I could count on you. Somehow from the moment we met I knew you were a good person, and would help me.” I nodded weakly, as I’d just sort of gone with the flow and acted on guilt. It was never certain I’d go this far, it just sort of happened, but I didn’t want to ruin his good mood.
“Now we destroy them.” I did a double take. He laughed. “What did you think the spaceship was for?” I refused. He shrugged and thanked me again for believing in him enough to come this far. The spaceship then lifted off, and began raining down bombs on the carnival ride robots before they could transform.
Follow me for more like this! And why not read one of my stories?