A Vision in a
Dream
by Christopher G.
Meade
Rotepconarmy
Steop, a junior space cadet, was having his
morning cup of coffee in the S.S. (Space Ship)
Futility’s cafeteria. He had not slept well
and was not looking forward to the day’s
assignment; fixing the Trochaic Thrusters.
Although they had been disused for years, it was
the junior cadets’ responsibility to
maintain said thrusters. Rotep lit up a marijuana
cigarette (the use of tobacco had been
discontinued early in the 21st Century), stood up
and walked resignedly towards the engine room.
When Rotep
reached the engine room he found old Mr. Housman
who, as always, was pursuing his pointless work
with undue diligence and a song upon his lips.
“The laws
of God, the laws of man,
He may keep that will and can;
Not I: let God and man decree
Laws for themselves and not for me!1”
‘We poor
lads ‘tis our turn now, to hear such tunes
as killed the cow.2’ thought
Rotep. “Hello Mr. Housman, how are you today?”
“Ah,
hullo my lad! Very well indeed, say, hand me that
wrench, will you?”
“How can
you be so happy? You know that these thrusters
will never be used again, how do you go on?”
Rotep queried, as he handed the wrench to Mr.
Housman.
“Precisely
by not asking myself questions such as those.
Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.3”
“Yes,
that does seem to help, but only temporarily.”
replied Rotep, in between gulps of beer.
“All
happiness is temporary, my boy, so make it your
goal to rape the world of as much of it as you
can handle.”
“That’s
all well and good in theory, but putting it into
practice could get one into a lot of trouble.”
“Trouble?
That’s just the laymen’s term for
exhilaration.”
The terrible
sound of twisting metal interrupted their debate.
A smaller craft made of what looked like wood,
had crashed through the roof of the engine room.
A ramp descended from it and two beings in
strange clothes proceeded down the ramp. The
being in the lead was the first to speak,
“Are you Rotepconarmy Steop?”
“Y-yes, I
am, who are you?”
“We are
the S.T.C. or Superfluous Time Commandos;
you’ve heard of us, I’m sure.”
“N-no,
why do you do it?”
“Why do
we do what?”
“Why be
time commandos, if your services are not needed?”
“No, no!
You’ve got it all turned around, you twit;
it is the time that’s superfluous,
not the commandos. We had too much time
on our hands, so we became time-travelling
commandos.”
“Oh, okay
then. What do you want with me?”
“You mean
you don’t know the significance of your name?”
“No, what
do you mean?”
“You are
the future of the greatest and most artful form
of literature; poetry. Your parents were ignorant
and semi-literate. On the day before your birth,
I gave your father a slip of paper with a name on
it. This name was what you were destined to be
called, unfortunately your lunkheaded father got
all the letters, or ‘alphabets’ as he
called them, mixed up.”
“So what
is my name supposed to be?” Rotepconarmy
Steop asked.
“Your
real name is Contemporary Poets!”
As soon as
these words were spoken, Rotep vanished.
“I told
you it wouldn’t work.” said the second
being.
“Oh, shut-up
Wordsworth.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Notes
and acknowledgements:
The
title of this story, A Vision in a Dream,
is also the alternate title of Samuel Taylor
Coleridge’s famous opium fuelled poem Kubla
Khan.
The
piece also contains direct quotes from three of
Alfred Edward Housman’s poems, as below.
1 -
From The Laws of God, The laws of Man
2 -
From Terrence, This Is Stupid Stuff
3 -
From The Chestnut Casts His Flambeaux
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