Nikki is desperately trying to get in touch with the Mothership this morning. She is running around the apartment at top speed, stopping dead in her tracks now and then to try and tune in.

Whoosh, she jumps up on the back of the easy chair, hangs on and swivels her ears. No reception. Whump, she flies over the two meter gap to the bed. Slumps down and swivels her ears. Still nothing. Out into the hallway she zooms. Can't see her, but obviously she gets nothing there, because soon she comes whooshing back and jumps up on the kitchen cabinet. Maybe the ornamental Tunisian bird cage can act as an antenna? Nope, nothing there. Thump down on the kitchen table. Ears swivel. Still nothing. Swoosh over to the windowsill. There's the cabinet, maybe she will have better reception on top of that?

She is still there, staring intently out at the skies. Maybe she is trying for visual contact with the Mothership.

Copyright © Marina Kurten
November 28, 2001