The blue balloon knocked at the kitchen window.
Quite a strong wind had picked up; the washing needed to be brought in if I didn’t want any of it to end up three fields over. As I dropped a damp towel into the basket, a flash of blue caught my attention. A balloon made its way across the garden. Only it was going at its own pace, as if caught in just the gentlest of breezes. Avoiding a flapping sheet, it glided towards me, only stopping when the string caught on the washing line. And there it bobbed lazily, incongruous to how windy it really was. I unhooked the string and let it go, just as a small rain shower came down. The sea-blue balloon stayed where it was, despite being released, despite the wind. I kept a suspicious eye on it while taking down the rest of the washing, and it still just hung there once I’d finished. I left it there, and went inside to hang the damp items on the drying rack in the conservatory. While doing so, I heard a faint sound, soft random thuds. There at the window was that same blue balloon, bobbing against the glass, like it was waiting to come in. I wasn’t going to let it in; it was unnatural for something so light to be forging its own way through such gusty weather, and following me. I moved into the kitchen to put some lunch together, but soon heard those same soft thuds. That blue balloon was now “knocking” at the kitchen window. This was getting creepy. I regretted a little that I was home alone, and the house was so remote. I took my plate to the dining room and sat to eat, but the balloon just moved to the window closest to me, bobbing against it for my attention.
Alright, that was enough. I didn’t appreciate being stalked by a balloon with free will. I went to the back door, with the intent to grab the string when it arrived and drag it off my property where it could go knock on someone else’s door. But as I opened the door the balloon was already there, and floated innocently past me. It was now inside. The sea-blue menace was inside my house.
Okay, this needed some logical thinking. So it was only a balloon. What’s the worst it could do? Pop unexpectedly? Float to the ceiling and be stuck in the corner until the helium leaked out, slowly deflating over time until it resembled a wrinkly blue potato? I think I could survive either of those outcomes. But was it really only a balloon? I mean, it had flown its own path despite the elements, knew which room of the house I was in, and now had invited itself inside. Those weren’t the traits of a run-of-the-mill, blue party balloon. Those were the traits of something unworldly. It just hovered there while I stared at it. We had come to a stand-off.
After regarding the balloon a while, I decided it really would be best to push it back outside. I grabbed the rubbery enigma by its string, but let go when I felt a sudden downpour of rain. It was windy, so no doubt rain had blown in from outside. I took hold of the string again, but had to let go when pelted with a burst of hailstones. Now even the weather was acting strangely.
This time I grabbed the balloon itself. A sheet of water dropped from the ceiling, drenching everything in the room. Jumping back in astonishment, I was now wet from head to toe, and stood in water as deep as my shoe soles. The water had fallen from the ceiling. It was an ordinary ceiling, the same one that had been there since the day I’d move in. I eyed the balloon more than a little suspiciously. I had been thinking about the rain as I’d touched it. Was it a telepathic balloon? Could it manifest my thoughts into reality? I raised my hands to either side of it again, and thought of the biggest pile of money I could imagine, before I pressed my hands to the rubber. I wasn’t showered with paper money. No rain of coins from above. Telepathic balloon. What was I thinking?
Behind the balloon, inside the conservatory, a huge rolling wave formed and loomed before me. It crashed down, washed over me, sent me tumbling in its wake, and left me splayed on the drenched kitchen floor. Okay, this balloon really had to go. I pulled myself together, marched back over to that blue menace, and seized it with both hands to force it outside. From out of nowhere a mammoth slab of snow fell, which flattened me and buried me underneath. Panicked, I scrambled to get above the freezing snowbank, and reached for the door handle to help pull myself up. I gasped for breath, winded and stunned. And that damn balloon was still inside. The balloon needed to be contained. But most of all it needed to be out of my house and out of my life.
I shook off the snow and sat on the freezing floor of the conservatory to digest the phenomena. There was a bit of a pattern. Each time I touched the balloon, something involving water happened. And each time the occurrence was greater than the one before. Did it start when I first unhooked the string that was caught on the washing line? That’s when I’d felt a light shower. Inside I’d felt rain, then hail. And it was each time I’d touched the balloon. This had escalated into a sheet of water, a powerful wave, and lastly a snow dump. I couldn’t imagine what would come next. A monsoon? A tidal wave? A deluge of razor sharp icicles? I didn’t want to find out. What I needed to know was how to get rid of that thing. What would pop it?
I got up and went to the kitchen, closing the door in between the two rooms so the balloon couldn’t follow. I sorted through one of those knickknack drawers every house possessed, and brought out the bbq lighter. Let’s see if the balloon could resist the power of fire.
When I opened the kitchen door the blue oddity was still there, waiting. I wasn’t going to grab the string, or touch it anywhere. So with an outstretched arm, I aimed the lighter at the balloon and pressed the button on. From the end a little flame burst into life, and contacted the rubber. I took a startled step back when the balloon turned a fiery shade of red. Okay, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea trying to burn it. No doubt if I touched the balloon now I’d find myself engulfed in flames. I’d rather be in a tidal wave. I closed the kitchen door again and poured a large glass of water, then opened the door just far enough to chuck it. The balloon reverted back to the original blue, and in a strange way I was happy to see it.
I had a sudden brainwave and slipped past the balloon again to grab my purse. I took out a coin and tossed it at the balloon. It bounced off, and the blue became silver — the same color as the coin. Why hadn’t I thrown a note? I gave the dangling string a hesitant tug. Hundreds of coins fell from nowhere, just as I’d hoped. I could be rich — in a ‘taking bags and bags of small coins to be exchanged at the bank’ kind of way. I went to tug on the string again, but pulled my hand back. It had hurt a little when the coins dropped on my head. What if thousands or millions of them fell? What if I was buried under an avalanche of coins or smashed under a hundred gold bricks? It may have been someone’s dream way to die, but it wasn’t mine. I went back to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, chucking it over the balloon. Then I closed the door on the blue balloon and went to have a think about what to do. Whatever I touched the balloon with it was going to assimilate. And whatever it assimilated it would reproduce in growing quantities or strength.
I thought that notion over for some time. This was excellent. This balloon could be used to our advantage as a whole planet. Its abilities could be harnessed and controlled, and used to feed and medicate poor countries, or water deserts, replant forests or bring endangered animals back from the brink of extinction.
Conversely, it could get into the wrong hands, to be used for something hostile or harmful, for modern warfare. Its abilities could be used to garner ultimate world power, or as a weapon of mass destruction. I was no misanthropist, but the human race probably couldn’t be trusted with something so powerful. No, this balloon, this discovery, this technology wasn’t to be shared. The implications were too precarious. The balloon just needed to go back wherever it had come from.
“Go home,” I told it. “You can’t help us. Come back in a few hundred years when humanity’s more reliable.” The balloon still hung there in front of me, but it was no longer bobbing so innocently. The blue faded, and after a few seconds the balloon was totally transparent, including the string. It floated through the open back door and out into the yard, its movements only visible because it distorted its surroundings. A strong gust of wind picked it up and the balloon was gone.
Whether I’d been selfless or selfish who knew. Either way, we weren’t ready for that unearthly blue enigma.
This story was written by Nicky van Vugt. NJ van Vugt is a self confessed sci-fi geek, paranormal enthusiast and fantasy fanatic. Did I mention sci-fi geek? She has been writing science fiction and fantasy since the dawn of time, but has been known to skew off on an erotica tangent, unleashing her powers of titillation on the unsuspecting public. Will she succeed in inspiring the minds of her readers? Stay tuned.
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