Two days after the president’s announcement that they’d made contact with aliens, everyone talked about what first contact would mean.
Some saw it as a positive thing, others as a calamity. You could class the opinions into a few groups.
The jealous country leaders who lost out to that brash American when it came to first contact. For once, the American media united and thumbed their respective noses and took pride in the fact aliens recognized the USA’s greatness.
The next kind of people were the ones who claimed they knew aliens existed all along and it would bring a new age of enlightenment. The sale of Star Trek uniforms and even Stars War ensembles rocketed.
Then there were the doomsayers. The end was nigh. The religious repented. They also bought guns. Food. Everything they could get their hands on.
Me?
I went shopping for a new outfit. I wasn’t alone. Many of my generation were giddy about meeting alien life.
And finally, there was one final group, who, as usual, contradicted everything the president said. But not many people listened to their rabid ranting about the head of the republic. They despised him, so they weren’t about to take his word. Nor did they accept his proof or the testimony of scientists. The opposition party claimed the president mentally unfit and in need of removal. Screamed it loud and for everyone to hear.
In response, the president released more footage and even more alien artifacts, hidden until now.
It didn’t help.
Heads exploded. Suddenly he was betraying the country by giving away their secrets.
Remove him from office! Having heard the word impeach so many times—every time a president was elected at this point—the populace had become immune to it. Which didn’t improve the situation because, as everyone lost their collective minds—again, as they seemed to do every other day now—the aliens entered our galaxy, and everyone with a powerful telescope could see it. It became the point where no one could deny something was coming.
What, though? No one quite knew. Messages didn’t translate into images. Or so the government claimed. All we had to go on? A smudge moving through space.
Could be a meteor, only it appeared guided, rapid in its trajectory, and avoiding things in its path.
Telescopes sent a constant stream of images showing a sphere. Massive, kind of Deathstar-ish in appearance. I will admit, I dug out my Princess Leia costume and wasn’t the only one at the Halloween party wearing braided coils at the club. The guy who got into my panties was no Han Solo, but he made me see stars.
The giant sphere came alone, and we began communicating more rapidly, apparently with the aliens. Not by voice though. The aliens replied in English to all queries.
They said it was easier for them to learn than to teach us their language. I wasn’t the only one who burned at the perceived insult.
The fearful doubled in number overnight and demanded our government stop the alien invasion.
“We’re paying for Space Force. Why aren’t we deploying it?” had screamed a lifelong politician. A few years ago, they’d been among those mocking its creation.
The president held firm. “They come in peace.”
Oddly enough, his words brought forth a new movement, those who created signs that said Welcome. I hung out with them for a few nights. Their weed was good. The sex? Mediocre given guys who are high aren’t that motivated.
The funniest thing during that time? The sale on butt plugs skyrocketed according to reports. The term #saynotoanalprobes began trending.
I bought clean underwear and lube. I still had hope the aliens would be cute and single. Speculation abounded, but no one knew for sure what to expect. It led to Borg memes making the rounds.
As the arrival date approached, the streets got chaotic. As with all things in this decade, when people got upset, riots erupted. My boss gave me the week off, but unlike many on my street, I wasn’t clearing shelves in supermarkets and hoarding. I practiced my potential speech in the mirror.
“Hello there, handsome. How was the trip?” Too husky? Maybe I needed to go a bit higher.
I smiled. More like a grimace in the mirror.
What if the aliens were intelligent, but ugly? I liked to think I wasn’t that shallow.
I channeled an old sitcom and winked. “How you doing?”
What if there was a language barrier? What if smiling with teeth was an insult? Or eye contact? Could be that aliens didn’t flirt the same way as humans.
All those thoughts ran through my head, never mind my chance of meeting alien life was like zero. Dental secretaries in their twenties didn’t have access to top secret meetings with extraterrestrial life, but hey, a girl could dream.
The day arrived.
Like the rest of the world—who wasn’t drinking the poison juice as some preached the end of the world—I was glued to my computer where a website streamed the arrival live.
Oh, the crying by the networks when a certain billionaire bought the rights to the broadcast, and then dared to show it for free. Uncut. No commercials.
I don’t think I blinked as the camera panned to catch the appearance of the big globe in the sky. It hovered before sinking gracefully. Not a crashing meteor as some predicted.
It landed and appeared smoother than expected, the outer shell gray in color, having little texture.
When the sphere hit the water, it didn’t even cause a splash.
Oooh. I swear I heard the world exhale.
A gangplank, narrow and without support, extended from the ship to the dock where the president and his entourage stood.
The door to the vessel opened.
I held my breath. Aliens. Holy fuck. I couldn’t believe this was happening.
Little did I know, it was the beginning of the end.
Chapter 4
The Present
The next block over, chafing behind the mask I used to protect me, I saw a potential building, about six stories, the balconies out front an indication they were apartments. The vestibule had been trashed, but a long time ago judging by the layer of filth on everything.
Not by monsters. In the end, it wasn’t the aliens that attacked humanity but the survivors of the plague.
Those changed by the experience attacked the rest. Guess I couldn’t mock those movies or television shows anymore. I’d always scoffed at the idea we’d turn on each other in the final hour. But here we were, playing humanity’s endgame, the moment we should have worked together for the greater good. Instead, we reverted to some primal version where survival trumped empathy.
For a second, I debated not even bothering checking the upper floors; however, I knew for a fact sometimes those squatting were lazy and would avoid any effort, such as climbing stairs.
A hand on my gun, sweating hard and stinking. It wouldn’t be noise that would give me away but the stench of me. When you lived alone, things like deodorant every day lost all meaning.
I’d need to bathe after this. Coiled, I tensed as I went up each step, especially as I turned each corner on the landing between floors. As I moved upward, I noticed the doors leading to the first and second floor were heavily damaged. No point checking apartments. I found a body on the landing of the third. Decayed and chewed to the point the skull grinned at me.
But it was the extra parts in the skeleton that sent me fleeing, even more fearful of the deadly shadows on my way down.