Invader Stim Homerpants

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Introducing Invader Stim

You may have stumbled upon this blog on accident, asking yourself “who is this blogger?” Fear not, for I am Invader Stim, a humble writer. (If you were also wondering why this had one line before, it’s because WordPress and my browser aren’t compatible)

My expertise is fiction and screenplays. Easy comprehension, good character interaction, and well-placed comedic timing are my favourite aspects of a story. The Simpsons, music, and video games are my inspirations. When I was a kid, my favourite art style was that of 80s cartoons like Jem and the Holograms.

One thing I’d love to do is critique others’ writing, but I’m not much of a reader. If I get around to it, I’ll to work my way up to it and proofread for other people.

I hope you enjoy reading my posts in the future. Happy aliens!

Uphaven #2

There was a pamphlet describing the city of Uphaven. Whoever wrote this took pride in the city hall, and a central park with leafless trees and shrubs, and a fountain in the works. In the photo, the water wasn’t even on. What kind of Strangetown vibe was this? For all the big talk, the council sure didn’t give.

In the envelope was another document. It showed my home address, a tax file number, a phone number, money, and a work address with a rota. It was a convenience store in the city. There was no car registration, so I gathered I needed a taxi. If Uphaven was so unfriendly, what were the taxis like? Unwashed, with dents in them?

I had no food in the fridge or the cupboards, so in the evening, I asked Link for a delivery recommendation. Instead of delivery, though, he invited me into the foyer, then went away, and came back. In his hands was a plate each of veal and vegetables. He set them on the coffee table.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“It’s your first day. Don’t refuse me.” Link pushed the chairs closer to the table, then sat in one.

I took the other seat. “Thanks.”

We took a few bites in silence. The white light in here and the darkening outside offset to an… eerie setting.

“Where are you from, Anna?” he asked.

“Australia,” I answered.

“That’s quite a long name. I don’t think I’d remember it.” He fidgeted with his golden ponytail.

“Would you like me to say it slower?” I asked.

“No, it’s fine!” He laughed uncomfortably. “If it’s okay with you, I would prefer not to tell you my past. Uphaven is my home now.”

I nodded. “No worries. I guess it’s my home now, too.”

We finished the meal and headed back to our units. I took a shower in the blinding bathroom, washed my brown hair, and turned in early. After all, I had work in the morning.

The alarm clock provided in the unit rang at 6 am. I hadn’t touched, mainly because I hadn’t read the instructions placed underneath the foot of the clock. I dressed in a grey polo shirt and denim shorts, similar to what I wore in the café. In case, I brought my envelope with me. Then I waited outside for a dingy taxi.

It came, yellow and with black and white checkers. No marks or dents, as far as I saw. But inside, it was dusty on the dashboard, and it was one of those models of car that took cassettes. The driver had a cigarette in hand, and the leather on my seat was torn. The driver themself was just like those in New York, with the hat and vest.

Driving farther down the road, there were few trees, but plenty of fresh cut green grass. And once we reached the city, it all ended. The city was as dirty as I thought it was. In fact, it was in a worse state than the place I left. No occupancies, and boarded up doors.

The taxi stopped. Finally, a store: my workplace. I paid the driver in cash, then entered the convenience store.

Nothing to sneeze at. White walls with yellow concrete support beams. Streaky linoleum flooring, just like a supermarket. The fluorescent lights flickered above me. What a health risk. Behind the counter was a six foot tall man with dark blue hair and brown skin, but the brightest blue eyes on anyone.

“Excuse me,” I called, “are you the manager?”

His eyes searched me; all the while they were sharp, piercing through me. “Through this door.”

He guided me to a back room: it was dusty and full of brown office furniture, not to mention the three filing cabinets in a row. At the desk was a man with black hair, glasses, and beads of sweat on his face. It was musty in here.

“Please leave me with the new employee,” he said.

The tall man left the room. My nerves and confusion got me at this moment.

“Take a seat.” He gestured to the chair opposite himself.

I did as told.

He reached into his drawer and pulled out paperwork. “I should let you know that here in Uphaven, we don’t have a bank. So when I pay you, keep your wallet close.”

“Oh,” I expressed.

“Since we are a small business, I have decided to pay you weekly. All I need of you right now is your address and a signature.”

I sighed, then wrote down my details. One question mentioned bank details. “So are we leaving this bit out for now?”

“Of course.”

I skipped the question. Everything else was relatively easy. I signed in the box, and handed it back to the manager.

“Thank you. My name is John McInerney. I am the owner of this convenience store. You will learn how to use the POS, clean the store and utilities, and stack the shelves.”

“Where do we keep the cleaning products?” I asked.

“Under the counter. Ike has the key, and he will be your trainer.”

“Awesome.”

“Any more questions?” He asked.

“Do you prefer John or Mr McInerney?”

“Call me John. Ike has trouble saying my last name, so I’m used to it.”

“Alright. That’s all the questions I have right now.”

“Alright. The first thing I want you to do is clean the store and make sure the shelves are neat.”

“Easy done.”

“Right. Get to it.”

I left the office and approached Ike. “So, you’re Ike?”

“That right.” We stared into each other’s eyes. While I did that out of politeness, Ike’s eyes scrutinised me.

“John says you have the key to the cleaning cupboard?”

Ike crouched and unlocked the cupboard. I peeked inside and found the exact pink industry grade cleaning product, and behind Ike was a blue bucket and a mop with its yarn still white. I poured the cleaning agent into the bucket, and then it occurred to me. Water.

“Is there a basin?” I asked.

“Through the second door.” Ike pointed to the door. “Do you have a key?” He spoke softly; my heart fluttered when he spoke.

“Not yet.”

He gestured me over, then unlocked the door for me. It was a small kitchen with a table against the wall, and four chairs around it.

I filled the bucket, then began by mopping the floor of the farthest room: the unisex bathroom. Then, I worked my way outwards to the store.

“By the way, Ike,” I said as I came closer to the front door, “How much do you get paid a week?”

“About 900,” he answered.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

And the shift was tiring, though there were few customers. We had no means of resting our feet aside from break time. I burnt out pretty quickly. None of this “you’ll get used to it” garbage. Not once had I gotten used to getting up in the morning, and not once had I decided within my body that I was used to work on my feet. At least here, I felt like I could go at my own pace.

I returned home, and in the foyer, Link stood by the table. On the table was a basket of fruit, vegetables, and non-perishables. He smiled. “Listen, Anna. I know you have no food, so I scrounged in my cupboards.”

I paused. It took time for shock to arise in me at the best of times. “Thanks? I need this.”

“Consider it a housewarming present.” He handed the basket to me. “Use them well.”

The only other time I ate today was at break time, where a box of instant mac n’ cheese sat in the cupboard. It made me feel off for about half an hour, and it was bland as all hell.

Back to the housewarming gift. At least, making a salad with all this was easy and tasted better. There was soy sauce in the basket, so I considered a stir fry.

Uphaven #1

CW: death, gore, suicidal tendencies, apocalyptic themes

It was light out. I was no longer in pain, and as I looked around at this unfamiliar scape, I knew I had to be on the other side… or something. To my left was a distant city that looked dirty and hadn’t been updated, let alone washed, since the 70s. In front of me was a concrete path to an apartment, with bright mango-coloured motifs. The windows were shiny, and behind its walls was a well-tended garden with cream pebble bedding. Above the door was a title for the building: ‘Newside’.

I knelt down to the grass to touch it. Yes, it was real – it had the little hairs on it like bull grass. But it was this height all across the valley, freshly chopped and deep green. And out of all the landscape, there was a singular tree with sparse leaves.

Where I was was already ending. The sinkholes got wider and deeper, sinking islands! I figured, if this was the end, and a sinkhole swallowed me, I would take it. Otherwise, I would go about my day. And that’s exactly what happened. While I was at work in a café, the ground opened up and swallowed the whole building. Then I skinned myself on the side of the hole, and as it got hotter, I landed on a stalagmite that severed my spine and pierced my heart.

And then I woke up here. No pain, able legs, a beating heart. I didn’t notice before, but envelopes were in my hand. One had no address but something jingly inside, and the other said ‘Uphaven Information Pack’. I opened up the blank envelope, then pulled out what made the noise: a set of keys, with the number 1. The letter inside was an invitation: “Welcome to Newside Apartments. Upon entry, show this to the landlord”. One of the keys was magnetic. I walked to the gate, touched it against the sensor, and it unlocked.

I walked through the garden, only taking in the sight for a second – I didn’t like perusing. Then I walked up the steps, and when the first key didn’t work, I tried a different one; this time it unlocked the front doors.

There was a modern, cool theme to complement the orange outside, with a water cooler, a table with magazines, and dark blue chairs. No one was here. At the other side of the room was a door into the corridor, and a desk behind plexiglass. I walked to the counter and tapped the bell. The ding echoed throughout the room. Even though no one else was here, I got self-conscious over how loud it was.

A man with a blond ponytail walked in behind the plexiglass. “Are you a guest?” he asked. His accent was Scandinavian.

“I, um, I have keys… and this invitation.” Words escaped me at the best of times. I lifted the keys in my left hand and handed him the envelopes.

He skimmed over it, then smiled. “Good, good.” He opened a drawer, pulled another key out, and placed it on the counter. “This is for that door.” He pointed to the door beside the desk.

I tapped the key against the sensor and walked through. There was the landlord’s office on the right, and the following door was to unit one. This one required a metal key. All the while, the landlord appeared behind me.

“Allow me to show you your facilities?” he asked.

“Alright?” I turned the key in the knob and entered.

Inside was what looked like an ordinary apartment. From what I could see upon entry, there was a TV, a couch, a round glass dining table, and a kitchen around the corner. The floor was concrete, but I didn’t mind – it was a modern take.

“You may call me Link. You’re Anna, going by the invitation?” he asked.

“That’s correct,” I said. “Link… I’ll remember that name.”

He smiled. “This is your living room, and a dining table. You have a flat-screen TV, and next to the door is a buzzer. The remote for the TV should be in one of those drawers. Shall we see the kitchen?”

We turned the corner, and the room turned… cold. The unit was already air-conditioned, but it was like a temperature trap. The cupboards were classic timber, with a granite countertop, and the floor was a stony vinyl pattern. It reminded me of my grandma’s house. The range was ordinary, but I couldn’t wait to try it out.

There was an archway, then a small hallway. Same motif as the kitchen. On the left as two empty rooms, and one the right was my bedroom. But in front of us was the bathroom. White walls, white floor, white towels, white everything. I had to squint when Link flicked on the light. The highlight was a big mirror that caught me off guard as I turned to leave. “Jesus!” I yelped, then laughed with a hand on my heart.

Next was the two rooms. They had no windows, but at least there were vents. Green walls, and grey carpet.

“You can do anything you want with these rooms,” said Link.

Lastly, my bedroom. It was the same colour as the other rooms, but this time with one window, a double bed, and a walk-in closet. I opened the closet and found clothes already hanging in it. Whose were they? After flicking through them, I figured out – they were mine from my previous life. There were drawers under the rack. I opened them and found more of my clothes.

“Link?” I called. “Are you by chance a spirit guide?”

“Not in the slightest,” he answered. “I wouldn’t associate myself with them.”

I nodded.

“Are there any questions before I leave you to your business?” he asked.

I seldom had questions during a meeting or seminar. “Nope.”

“Good. I’ll be seeing you. And don’t forget to read that pamphlet. It’s important.” He walked away, out of my apartment.

I sat on the bed, then opened the second envelope. ‘Uphaven Welcome Pack’. It had thick contents. Was Uphaven the real ‘other side’, or was I dreaming?

I Almost Gave Up

For those who have been around for over a month, you’d know I’ve been writing Stardust–not the Neil Gaiman novel, this is the message title (I’m not revealing the actual title until I’m certain).

Well, I have to say first that it’s not only about the rating–that’s theory. You have to write a good story along with it. I forgot about one tiny detail at the end of chapter three last night, and the whole page went bunk (every page you write has a unique message). And so, as I went to bed, I was so ready to trash it. Boy, was I glad I didn’t today.

I’m not going to spoil the message; you’re going to have to read it yourself once it’s out. But I added more words to it, and I added that detail which I’d written in the zero draft. Instantly, the issue fixed itself within me, my guides, and everyone who’s involved in the process.

They say the pen is mightier than the sword. In the way of change, I’m starting to believe that.

Angst

I never really admitted this to myself until today. I am an angsty person–I always have been, ever since I was a kid. It’s a mix of boredom, depression, anger, and drowsiness. It gets in the way of my day all the time and it’s physically painful, and believe you me, I like to create things. Because I’m guilty of ignoring my feelings, I had to stay away from the other watchers.

I had a pillow and then, after a while, a blanket. Johnny Test came to mind as I laid on the floor. The message was “Angst is real”. I’ve only watched one episode, but that’s al it takes for the message to come through. Then, because I felt like sleeping, The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars came through. The message was “Angst is a choice”. I guess I was on a mission to prove Johnny Test right, as terrible as the show is. But I also believe it was pre-ordained by whoever sent me through to this life.

Angst is very real. It can pop up at any time, and all you can do is push through the pain. I have no intense thoughts, just a head full of nothing.

Messages – Warning System

What you need is a word processor, its Find and Replace, and the highlighter tool–I suggest using a dark colour. The default colour is too light to distinguish.

Now, I’m going to make up a rating slugline for educational purposes. This will look like garble to you, but I promise you, every letter counts.

PynUamw,,LwmauxoPajUmwlauziqpamIlebŋ.!,”;‘

The warning system take a lot of focus and backtracking, if not for Find and Replace. Make sure you select ‘Match Case’. As you can see, I’ve already underlined every first and third classification, as there is no highlighter option. That includes the ‘;’, but WP is finicky on it.

The very first letters are separate warnings. ‘P’ and ‘y’ are single-letter warnings, therefore are surface-level–let’s call it level 1. The first comma is also level 1, but you’ll notice there’s another comma next to it. The golden rule from here on out is to not repeat combinations. The second comma now takes on ‘L’, and there is our first level 2 warning. Right next to that is ‘wm’, and next to that is ‘au’. The other golden rule is that warnings do not overlap.

And you may have noticed already: there is ‘wl’ but there is also ‘l’. Why is ‘l’ the exception? The answer is, it’s not. There is no ‘w’ behind it, and ‘I’ is its own classification. Just because you find a letter in a level 2 classification does not mean it can’t be its own after the fact.

So, the highest level on this slugline is level 3. It’s two levels lower than moderate. In the case of age bracket, I would gauge that it’s safe for those 8-10 years old. But if I was to research the deeper sluglines (I’ll explain this in a bit), I would probably find warnings as high as 5 or even 7. This can relate to realisations we make as adults, or even things human eyes can’t see. It may not even be referenced in the material, as far as one would know.

On a side note, you may notice that there is the letter ‘ŋ’. This is uncommon in the surface slugline (the one all humans are allowed to see) and is more common in the deeper sluglines–ones watchers are allowed to see and work with. If you come across ‘ŋ’ in your surface slugline, you’ve got something pretty weird.

Induction

I began my official induction as a watcher last night. This is what it feels like: dizziness, anger, being hypnotised, agitation, doubt, and an upset stomach. I also feel like I can’t do my daily activities unless it’s essential, like eating.

I thought I’d be wrong to write this up. Karu said there’s a lot to tell me, probably about the realm. And my husband has been steering clear of me for most nights, but he never told me why–this I had to figure out myself.

It’s taken three years for me to get to this point of official induction. I think I’ve been avoiding it unknowingly. My last duty of this process was to confirm my identity. When I woke up today, I checked Facebook. There’s been backlash over football jerseys relating to LGBT inclusivity, and someone posted that children should be shielded from this kind of ideology.

I made a whole post on why this was wrong, and in it, I confirmed my identity as genderqueer. I am a mix of woman and nonbinary every single day of the year (it never changes between! I mean I feel both at the same time!), and my pronouns are she/her.

Someone (I think it was Tan France) once said that the term “coming out” is based on fear, and that’s why he didn’t like it. I feel I’m in the same mind, as I feel no one should fear confirming their identity. It is for your happiness.

Dr Isaac Gilmore

I finally figured out who my guest is. He put a patch on me, and it took me a while, just like with my brother Roy. I didn’t think he’d be the one. “You know my son!” I told him, and he was taken aback by my knowledge of him–all I did was google him.

But as soon as I identified him, I knew exactly why he was put in this position. We do witchcraft, and he’s probably not won over with that, but perhaps he can do something for us. Planning? Maybe he does agree with witchcraft, and he’s going to help us with it. Gathering information, even?

This won’t stop him working with the 00 models again. I’m not going to be a dictator about it. He’ll be thrilled to see everyone again, and he might be delighted to know that Black Ghost himself has been killed. Of course, that doesn’t mean the enterprise has been destroyed–I expect him to make sure the enterprise doesn’t re-emerge.

Message Sensitivity

As watchers, we are hyperaware of messaging in media. We are so aware that the message affects us directly, and can cause us physical and mental harm.

Last night I watched the AFL. A live broadcast, on two different channels, each with different commentators and half-time analysis. There can’t be a message, right? That’s where you’re wrong.

The message is ‘pay attention’. The Fox Sports broadcast had a different take to the freeview channel, which was ‘focus on the details’. Its production quality was better as well, with minimal ads.

Now, I had one glass of mead at the time, and once I’d finished that glass, things went weird. I was hypnotised, unable to move at certain moments, and my telepathy speech slurred. But I got through the game.

Some of us see flashes of images on screen–watchers see at a higher framerate than humans, and so it’s easier to see the visual messages. There were words that said ‘this is a distraction’ and pictures of Yoda, to remind us of his most famous quote.

Earlier, I’d read the second volume of Speed Racer (an absolute essential in my eyes). It took some time to figure it out in plain English, but the message was ‘watch out for propaganda (messages)’. And so that turned my whole perception around. A lot of messages in the most celebrated Australian shows is propaganda. Home & Away is ‘you’ll never be this good’, and it’s obvious in its self-one-upmanship. A single message will have what’s called episodes, and one of the episodes within Home & Away is ‘you’re going to hell’.

Better Homes and Gardens, one of my favourite TV shows, has the message ‘people are starving in other countries, so you might as well not eat’. If you saw the episodes, you’d see that the message was in good faith, but in extremely poor execution.

The best one I’ve seen is a show called Upright, where the message is ‘the crown chakra has three points’. That is, one at the top of the head, and one for each ear. At the time I had migraines, and I didn’t take it on. But now a second season is being brought out, and there’s no way I’m watching it. But this is not propaganda–this is a theory that works for some, but not all.

I found that after reading Speed Racer, I’ve been more receptive to messages. Hopefully this continues.

Ike Elhaken

Before I met Ike, he saved my life. Someone had passed away who was dear to me, and I didn’t realise I had trouble coping until I wrote a letter to him. I wanted what everyone else wanted–to see your favourite people in your dreams.

When we met, he presented the letter. It had been a long time since he’d talked to people. Naturally, he was anxious around all people, but especially women.

He spent months in my house, away from his then betrothed. I taught him how to count, we looked at interior design, and we played The Sims 4. But worst of all, he liked my bed, and no way was he going to budge.

His wedding to Soren was set up in my back yard. I sang the wedding march (actually, it was Stuff and Nonsense by Split Enz), and he chose me as the celebrant. I took care with my words.

Coming of Watchers

It was early morning on the 3rd of August, 2019. I hadn’t slept well because I’m an insomniac, and I had work in a few hours. I spread some kind of energy around the earth. Perhaps it was a download.

Spirit, an Original, whispered in my ear: “You’re about to witness a miracle.”

There was no environment to interact with thus far. What was this supposed to be? I wondered. But faces appeared, and I joked that we were back here again, like the psychosis I had a few years back. “I wonder how many spirits I can FUCK.” There was accidental emphasis on ‘FUCK’, and it caught the attention on Marth, who’d woken up then and there. That was all he heard, thankfully.

By this time, the term ‘watcher’ didn’t apply yet. We’d go through a few names before settling on the current name.

That morning, I met Link, Iris Sholeract, Peach, DK, and the two most precious, Ike, who I wrote a letter to at the beginning of 2018, therefore he saved my life; and Phoenix, who I will talk about in another instalment.

I don’t see Peach and DK often. Perhaps DK lives elsewhere, where I’m not so actively concerned.