Gaelan Abbas: A Bicycle in the Rain...

A Bicycle in the Rain: A Rebel and his Brain

As anyone who can count to four in this day and age should be able to tell you, many thoughts come not from the human mind, but from the Uvior Mother Ship, shrouded in the illusion of ordinary thought. To a privileged few the Uvior give inspiration, but to the rest they condemn to a life of mundane thought, thoughts like did I leave the stove on? or I wish I wasn’t alone on a Friday night. Or, more pertinently to this story, Where did I leave my car keys?
           It’s a conspiracy, you see! Now, most people, when thinking of conspiracy (of which most people don’t do half as much as they should), they think of a bunch of men chanting about a giant owl statue (as in the Bohemian Grove), or of well dressed folks meeting in distinctly marked buildings at times printed on the bulletin boards, posted online, and sometimes printed in newspapers (as in the Masons), or generally of people around a table discussing things.
           Indeed, such speculation is right as rain considering the Earth-bound minds in which they are born. However, in truth, the conspiracy is simple where people think it to be complex, and penetrates deeper than money or politics.
           So Jeffy, our hero, was about to go to work one rainy day, but couldn't find his car keys.[*]
           The alien charged with watching over Jeffy, Ganx Uviux 27[†], knew that Jeffy had, deep inside his garage, a beautiful miraculously working bicycle, one of those ancient contraptions with one giant wheel and another itty bitty one. He also knew that cars are as helpful in their trade as Fox News, with the insurance, registration, tickets, and easily lost keys, and so Ganx made it his duty to ensure that if Jeffy didn’t find the car keys, he would walk, grumbling the whole way, getting wet and arriving late.
           And that would jolly well have happened, but then something primordial and very Earthy shifted underneath all the alien poppycock, perhaps it was the unrecognized need for physical exertion, or perhaps subconscious recognition of an unwanted presence and the will to rebel, or perhaps another being, as foreign as the Uvior, but, at least for the moment, benign where the Uvior were malignant. Whatever it was, it manifested itself to the tune of a certain Queen song: Bicycle, bicycle…
           Then, the signals stopped. All incessant thoughts of cars, and keys ceased, and the mighty Jeffy rode his bike to work.
           Once the foundation for the Uvior thoughts had been leveled, it could never be re-established in the same way again, and to a privileged few, They inspire[‡]. He could think freely, and released many of his friends from the Uvior humbuggery, and the rest were too deeply entrenched in it[§].
Of course, Jeffy never knew what hit him, and so if you went ahead and asked him about it now, he would say “Yeah, so I rode my bike to work once, and I guess I have felt better ever since, but what’s all this about aliens?”
And so you have it: the rebel, the oppressor, and all the instruments for revolution are within us all, if we can only see them


[*] They were, he would later discover, where lost objects usually go, in his other pair of pants.
[†] The Uvior were historically divided into what we will for wont of a better word call clans, among these were the Uvirec; the Uvitim, and the Uvile.
[‡] That’s right, the Uvior are the they in “that’s what they say”
[§] If this doesn’t make sense to you, then it’s time to question the efficacy of trying to understand non-human entities in general: why didn’t Hera realize early on that Zeus would do nothing but screw around with her? Why did Seth cut Osiris and scatter his pieces about Egypt? A Jungian might say that mythology is symbolic of the interaction of archetypes, but I know a fellow with a very big hammer who would beg to differ.