Homo Cosmiens:

Samuel (Sam) Fraser

Lieutenant Colonel Samuel (Sam) Fraser was watching television in his Georgetown home. His newly assigned duty was gathering intelligence about the Vessel. He pressed the channel change button on his television remote.

"Mother of six claims the Vessel took her children. News at eleven," the voice from Sam's television blared.

His handsome face grimaced as he listened to the nonsensical chatter surrounding the Vessel. He pressed the button on his remote again.

"Will you intervene in our current financial crisis?" the interviewer asked in a demanding tone. "What is your position on big government? Do you plan to run for office?"

Sam's short haircut made his ears appear to be the most prominent feature on his head. His strong hairline formed a distinct peak low on his forehead, giving the impression that his hair sat on his head like a cap.

The Vessel replied to the interviewer in a dry and controlled voice. "We are not here to change anything in your world. We are here only to help you achieve your goals and to ensure your continued existence. We will not interfere with your governments. We will not impose ourselves on you at all."

A frown creased Sam's kind face. "What a circus surrounds the Vessel, and how utterly absurd it all is," he thought. He pressed the button again.

"...Watch Dave have intergalactic fun tonight with his special guest star: the Vessel," the excited television announcer exclaimed.

Sam Fraser's core beliefs were rooted in country and duty, principles instilled in him from an early age. These convictions propelled him into a life of service. While attending military school in Mississippi, the idea that God and country were paramount was further reinforced. Once more, he pressed the button on his remote.

"Oprah interviews the Vessel to talk about its early years..."

"Why would people address a creature like the Vessel in such a manner? What does this thing truly want from us? Those are the questions they should be asking." All he knew for certain were his deep suspicions regarding its motives and his unwavering commitment to defend his country against it, even at the cost of his own life, if necessary.

A photograph on his sideboard caught his attention, and the noise from the television receded into the background. Three young men seated on an armored vehicle gazed back at him with solemn expressions. He could almost detect the scent of dust clinging to their uniforms. His mind drifted back to Iraq, and he found himself once again in the midst of combat. Children with pleading eyes reached out to touch him. He walked down a street littered with rubble, past the bullet-riddled facade of a collapsed building. He relived the horrific acts of brutality inflicted upon innocent men, women, and children. He heard the deafening explosion of an improvised explosive device, and his skin turned cold. He snapped back to his living room and his current reality, finding himself in a cold sweat and trembling. He pressed the button on his remote again.

"So, what is it like not to have a body?" Ellen asked in her characteristically dry manner. A burst of laughter erupted from Sam's television.

His faith in God had become muddled and uncertain after his experiences in Iraq, but his loyalty to his country had only intensified. "How could God allow such things?" he often pondered. "Democracy, the founding fathers, and manifest destiny—these are tangible realities, not God."

The television's din faded once more. "Sammy, did you say your prayers?" asked the soft voice of his long-deceased mother. "When I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep," his ghostly mother continued. "...Sammy, we will be late for church. Come on, get out of bed and get dressed, or I will call your father." Her voice gently dissipated.

"Sam, honor is the only true possession a man has in the end; never forget this, son," his long-deceased father spoke in a stern tone. "...Attention, Samuel! Stand up straight, shoulders back, eyes forward," his fatherly specter commanded. "...I do not know for certain, Sam, if God exists, but I know that America does. It is our duty to defend her, Sam. Remember this, son."

More laughter from his television greeted Sam as he returned to his present reality. He questioned himself, "Why all these memories now? When will I finally be able to forget?"

Homo Cosmiens the book

Homo Cosmiens the eBook

Homo Cosmiens the email group


⬆️ | 🏠


® The respective authors and organizations solely own all excerpts of copyright materials used on this site. These excerpts appear herein via section 107 of the USA copyright law: the doctrine of “fair use”. David Millett asserts all legal and moral rights over all parts of all media on this site; except those parts that relate to section 107 of the USA copyright law. ©