Mitchell pressed the button again, and the beam he loved so well shot from the device in his hand. ‘And another one bites the dust.’ The lyrics from the old song flittered through his mind. Smiling, he focused on the next one.
‘This one needs to be shot, too.’ Imaging he was a lion on the Savannah stalking a lamb for supper Mitchell pressed the button. ‘Got it.’ It didn’t matter that lambs were scarce on the Savannah, here he was in control, and set the parameters of what was acceptable to remain pictured on the large screen before them.
He glanced at Judy sitting beside him. The console between them held drinks, and snacks attesting to the length of time they spent in their positions. She was pressing keys, inputting data into the computer. She didn’t like all the killing, and told him so often. Oh well, at least it wasn’t something that needed cleaning up.
The image on the screen fairly screamed to be shot. He obliged. The next three came as if marching in lockstep. Zap. Zap. Zap.
‘Here comes a green one.’ He always shot those as soon as they appeared. Dangerous, that’s what they were. Threatening to the space-time continuum, he was sure.
There was a pause in the action as the image on the screen was benign. Letting that one pass he pressed the button changing the screen. Now here was some action coming from a different source.
Mitchell shot one coming at them from the left, now right, back left, straight on. Shot after shot pulsed destroying one after another. ‘I’m like Luke Skywalker from the old Star Wars.’
Clear sailing for a few moments. Judy got up, and gathered the items off the console. “Do you want anything? I’m getting another soda.”
“Sure. Whatever you get is fine with me.”
What she said next was only a blurred noise in his ear. More zoomed into view needing to be obliterated. They were dangerous. His mission, the reason they were here was to protect and defend. He was doing both. In his corner of space, none would get by if he could help it.
If he paused too long before pressing the button sending the beam that would wipe them from view, they might snag him. Who knew what would happen then. All he was certain of was that the small device in his hand had the power to blow them off the screen.
He liked to imagine them collected in a pile on the floor below the screen. Evidence of his capabilities and victories, each shot leaving traces behind. As the day progressed the pile would grow larger. At the end of each day someone would come, sweep them into a container, to be carried as war trophies in a ticker tape parade.
This didn’t happen of course, and Judy sure wouldn’t want to clean up the mess. What was taking her so long, anyway?
Several more shots, and he was again focused on the screen. Faster, they were coming faster, less time to totally identify before he pressed the button.
He heard her footsteps behind him, then his soda was placed beside hers on the console. In his peripheral vision, as he pressed, identified, and pressed again and again, he saw Judy standing eyes focused on the screen.
“Mitchell.” Her voice held a tinge of irritation. “Will you please decide on a show to watch, and quit changing the channel? Besides, you’ll be asleep in that recliner within two minutes.”