Cybo Soccer & Heavens Above

By Roy Hinks

Two fantasy stories

In Cybo Soccer Professor Chip creates a village football team that is the best ever. They eventually win the world cup but are they cheats? The politicians of the world get involved when a threatened invasion from aliens restores Brokenborough United's reputation. But what do aliens want with an earth-bound robotic football team?

Heavens Above is a story about a boy, Tim, who was once a bird. His grandparents also once birds are human too. Much to Tim's delight the spell that has changed them gets broken. He becomes a skylark. But Hawkeye wants to kill him. Can he escape? Can he restore the spell for his grqnd-parents, who want to be human again? How did his father die? How can his damaged mother, Alauda, help?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 28, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456773267

Roy Hinks

The author, a retired English Teacher, has had poems published and been a winner in prestigious poetry competitions. He enjoys the British countryside and its natural history. He lives in Hampshire, southern England and taught in this county for over thirty years. He writes stories primarily for his grandchildren. All mums, dads, grandparents and grandchildren however are invited to become listeners and readers of Cybo Soccer & Heavens Above, two stories he's self published. What he is frequently heard saying is: "Get your kids to listen to and to read for themselves books of all kinds." He was introduced to the thrill and excitement of story books not as a reader but as a listener. Becoming a reader naturally followed. As a former teacher of English in an eleven to eighteen comprehensive school he is keen to encourage book reading from an early age. He would like young people from the age of one to ninety to read widely and to be introduced to imaginative as well as factual writing. He thinks mums and dads and grand-parents have an important role in this process. As they read they can act out the parts and put on silly voices and whisper and shout and justify doing so by saying "It's okay, I'm not mad, I'm just reading the kids a bedtime story." "So," he says, "get hold of the books, read them to your off-spring, relive your own childhood, use reading to your grand-children as an excuse to read the books you've always wanted to. Don't let adult shyness banish you from the imaginative world of childhood!" From the above you can see that this writer has still got a teacher's mentality. But don't read his lecture, get hold of a children's book and read that!

Book preview

© 2011. Roy H. Hinks. All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 1/16/2011

ISBN: 978-1-4567-7327-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4567-7326-7 (e)

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

For

All grandchildren,

especially

Charlotte King

Daniel King

Oliver Stones

Jackson Stones

Contents

Brokenborough United is Born

The Team

United’s First Game

United Tops the League

World Cup Team

World Cup Won

Cheats

Deceived The Nation

Aliens

Milky Way Champs

HEAVENS ABOVE

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Brokenborough United is Born

A footballer? gasped Professor Chip.

Yep! Cybo eyes spun like catherine wheels.

But why?

I love football. It’s great!

Now, listen, Cybo, you’re a robot! It’s taken me six years to make you. Your brain’s bigger than …

A football!

Yes, it is. But, Professor Chip continued, ruffling up her white hair into an ice-cream-like whirl, couldn’t your huge mind come up with something more … more … ?

Scientific.

Scientific, yes, that’s it, scientific!

You want me to use my massive brain scientifically?

Well, yes, Professor Chip said. She put a wad of chewing gum into her mouth. Your computer brain is better than any computer ever made. Ideas should come to you as easy as winking

"O.K. Your chewing-gum bubble is like a football. The moon is a gold football. Earth’s a football kicked around by gravity. The universe is a great big football pitch. All the stars and planets are footballs! I could invent a football that shouts goal every time someone kicks it. God’s universe is a gigantic football game. E = MC² is really a formula for football. On other planets other life forms are playing football right now so I could …"

Stop! screeched Professor Chip. Stop! It will take too many years for you to link everything in your head to football. What 1 really can’t understand is why …

Football? Cybo interrupted. It’s your fault Prof. You eat fish-and-chips wrapped in newspaper. Whilst you fitted me with arms and legs I read all the football pages. You brain-washed me to love football."

But what about nuclear physics? What about bio-technology? What about climate change? What about…?

You never got fish and chips in those magazines! Cybo said.

But football, Professor Chip exclaimed, of all the things you could do you choose football!

You bet! Cybo danced around the laboratory singing a chant:

Football’s fab! Football’s fun! Football’s the name! Football’s fantastic! Football’s the game - f-o-o-t-b-a-l-l - FOOTBALL!

Cybo picked the Prof up and danced around with her.

Look, my feet! See my toes! They’re wriggling! They feel lost, they feel cold, they feel undressed! They itch - they want to kick a football - they need football boots.

Cybo gently lowered the Prof to the ground. He swung his right leg, scraping Professor Chip’s shin, laddering her stocking.

Ooops! Sorry!

You can’t be a footballer, Professor Chip said, adjusting her seam, you’re ten feet high.

And a millimeter, Cybo corrected.

Alright, alright, ten feet and a bit more, but you’re not …

Skillful enough? Cybo exclaimed, whirling his eyes.

Now, now, Cybo, calm down. Of course you’re skillful, you’re brill, with your brain you could do anything. But you can’t play football! You’re too big!

Prof Chip blew an enormous chewing-gum bubble. When it popped she had to peel it off her lips and nose.

Hmmm! Cybo’s eyes slowed. Too big! Easy - make me smaller!

Easy? It’s taken me years to build you!

Easy, with my help Cybo said. We re-make my bits, miniaturize them. Yes, that’s the word, miniaturize! And we build a whole team. With my football sized brain I’ll show you how. It’ll only take a month, two at the most. You can be our goalkeeper.

"Me! Goalkeeper! I’m a girl! I’m seventy-two years old …

Plus two months, five days, six hours, three minutes and ten seconds - in two seconds time. But don’t worry. You won’t save goals, you won’t need to.

Why not?

Because our defense will be like bullet-proof glass - you’ll see the ball come at you but before it hits you one of our defenders will stop it."

Really, said Professor Chip, suddenly feeling very excited. And what would our football team be called?

Brokenborough United!

Ah, named after our little village, good idea. Professor Chip giggled. I can hear it being chanted – Brokenborough United for the cup.

Cybo’s eyes whirled in their sockets and turned bright orange. It was his way of showing he was excited too. Broke-Broken-Brokenborough for the cup! he chanted.

Brokenborough United it is, Professor Chip said, polishing her specs with a teeny bit of linen she called a handkerchief. She wrapped up her chewing gum in it. All right, I’ll - we’ll - do it.

Cybo’s bright orange eyes turned white. White showed he was worried.

What? Professor Chip asked, alarmed.

My head, it must look human. Yeah, but my brain must still be brilliant. The whole team must all have brilliant brains.

Well, of course! Professor Chip cried. Come with me to my work shop. I’ll get my little screwdriver twiddling. With you helping me I’ll make you into a football sized human footballer. When you’re done you can help me make the rest of the team.

Agreed, Cybo said. With my BIG miniaturized brain and your screwdriver we’ll soon get the job done.

The Team

Eight weeks later at three o’clock p.m. precisely a six-foot three Cybo ran out of the Professor’s workshop wearing a white shirt, red shorts, blue socks and football boots. Ten other footballers, most of them six foot or more, three of them shorter, danced out after him. They were all wearing white shirts, red shorts, green socks and football boots.’Brokenborough’ was printed on their fronts,’United’ on their backs. The team jumped up-and-down; they touched