Daisy's Star Map
by Sean Patrick Whiteley
The orange streetlight winked out, which woke the dog, who was a mildly clever Pomeranian, and was easily disturbed by the smallest of sounds. And when the orange streetlight winked out, it went--wink!--and of course, Daisy, the Pomeranian, leapt into wakefulness, yipping and yapping, snarling and barking.
Bork! Bork! Bork! Daisy rose the alarm.
And then, she was silent. Her muzzle opened and closed, her eyes bulged with the effort of barking, but no sound came.
And she was floating. Her paws lifted from the floor, and Daisy hovered in the dark living room. She slowly tumbled head over tail through the house. The kitchen window opened, and a soft, golden light pulled Daisy outside.
The window closed.
In the morning, Daisy's human, Margaret, shuffled into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on the stove. Something crunched under her slipper. She looked down. Dry dog food covered the linoleum.
'Daisy!' Margaret shouted.
The Pomeranian tip-toed into the kitchen.
Her human was fuming. 'Look at this mess you made, Daisy!'
Daisy barked.
Margaret grabbed the broom and started sweeping.
Daisy ran around the kitchen. She growled. She nipped at her human's ankles. But she couldn't stop her.
Margaret swept up the dog food. Those delicate patterns of dry dog food. The concentric circles, the trajectories and lines; a star map, it was a star map! Why couldn't Margaret see? It was all the Pomeranian could remember of her night on the ship, deep and away in the sky. The beings who took her had touched her mind, had expanded the capabilities of her thoughts. They showed her the star map. And now Margaret, the fool, the great fool, swept it all away.
