It had been his birthday.
His thirtieth birthday to be precise.
Almost a decade ago, that would have meant a party with friends. A
trip to the bars, down some drinks, some good friend, create some
life time memories that he would remember for ages. But those times
were long gone, those college friends long moving into careers and
starting new families. Close ties fractured with time and new
responsibilities, and people who were seen on the regular you now
only got a yearly phone call with. Life after college was often a
strange time for those who had, for almost all the years they had
been alive, stuck to the constant routine of the education system.
People who seemed to thrive in halls of their schools, excelling in
grades or sports, seeming to be on a clear trajectory to a good life,
would later inexplicably find themselves crashing and burning, unable
to cope with the challenges of the real world. Debts, worthless
degrees, the realization that your status in high school didn't mean
much to others outside its walls...people who seemed ready to conquer
the world were suddenly living in the basement of their parents homes
for years, or self destructing as alcohol was the only remedy to
coping with the fact that their glory days, perhaps the highest peak
of their lives, were now behind them and the long reach of life still
ahead of them would never come close to it.
Bradley Peterson was not one of these
people. Mediocrity had always been the name of the game for him. He
never excelled at sports, he was never on any team, only playing when
it was required as a part of physical education classes. When he did
play, he wasn't the worst but nor was he anywhere near the top.
Academically, he was average. Like many kids, he often had better
things to do at home than do his assignments, but he was disciplined
enough to not shirk them entirely. He attracted no attention, good or
bad, from his peers or the adults ruling his life. Nobody ever
intervened in his life, because there was never really a need to. He
had no siblings to compete with or look up to. His parents were also
incredibly average. His father, who had worked as a law clerk for
almost all his life, had not advanced in his career for decades,
seeming fully content with his mundane position. His mother, a simple
housewife from a traditional family, had dreamed of little than
raising a child of her own. There was no push to run a family
business, nor follow in the footsteps of his father, who stressed the
importance of every person finding their own place in the world on
their own accord. This view, while open minded and supportive of his
son's independence, offered little in terms of guidance.
The notion of finding one's place
became strained as his educational years continued. His science
classes exposed him to the beautiful expanse of space, with its
countless stars seeming to stretch further than his imagination could
even hope to. His family was not religious, and so he did not have
the comfort of God and heaven to fall back to. When the inevitable
question of mankind's solitude among the galaxies was finally raised,
Bradley considered it surely impossible. If the universe truly was as
large as modern science claimed, how could there not be life
somewhere out in the dark vacuum? But this revelation only begged the
question of, if they were not alone, what was their purpose? If, by
some incredible feat, it could be proven that mankind stood alone as
the sole lifeforms of the cosmos, then perhaps some justification of
believing a grand purpose could potentially be perceived. But, if
there were others, planets with new entities with new ways of life,
then all was lost. Humanity would be just another ball floating among
the stars with no set course. No reason to exist other than by mere
chance. A measly speck in infinite space.
When his high school graduation
finally arrived, talks of college quickly started. With no real
guidance from his family, no sports or worthwhile hobbies to pursue,
Bradley was completely lost. That's completely normal, he was often
told, a lot of people don't discover their path right away. He was
advised to focus on his core classes to get them out of the way so
that he could focus on his major when he decided what it would be.
However, before even two years into his higher education, the rising
tuition costs drained the funds his father had saved up for him, and
he was forced to return home. It was just as well, despite being
there for nearly four semesters, he was no closer to finding his
“path”. Instead, he had focused on other things. He had been told
countless times that college was about trying new things in one's
quest of self discovery, and he found that to be true. It was in the
old and ratted halls of his dormitory that he had tried weed, and
briefly dated a young woman who shared a morning class with him. But
his mediocrity caught up with him even here, as again he joined no
sports teams, and, due to his lack of experience, no clubs spoke out
to him. He could not act, write, sing, play an instrument, draw, or
dance. His lack of creative or physical talent, for the first time,
was laid clear before him. Shortly before, and months after, his
departure from higher education, he had sunk into a deep depression
brought on by his self perceived lack of use.
Fortunately, he had been able to land
a job at his local grocery store, which served as a decent
distraction from his internal dilemma. For nearly five years he
worked at the store, stocking shelves, ring up customers, cleaning
bathrooms, doing any job that needed done. Without a higher
education, and without his own car, Bradley's employment prospects
were limited. The only advancement he had at the store was to promote
into management, an idea that utterly repulsed him. What sort of
young man aspired for a career at a supermarket? When he was twenty
five, he finally saved enough money to buy a car, and was able to get
a job at a factory, where he worked on an assembly line. The work was
tedious and the hours long, but the money he earned finally enabled
him to move out of his parents home into an apartment.
His departure from college left a gap
in his social life. Most of his few friends from high school years
had long moved away and the few that remained were married with
children and had little time. The ones he had met in college were too
busy wrapped up in studies or lived too far to make a long drive for
a visit. Many of the people he worked with at the grocery store were
either teenagers still in high school, or older people who were
working part time because retirement had bored them to death. As
such, when he moved into his new apartment with his new job, he had
few options to celebrate with, and no roommates to spend time with,
often resulting in frequent visits with his parents, which he
eventually was forced to stop when they sold his childhood home and
moved after the lawfirm that his father worked for went under,
resulting in his father taking employment with another in another
county. Bradley became a regular at bars, where he remained a person
of remarkable uninterest, not drinking heavily enough to get into
trouble, while also not being charismatic to attract the interest of
any ladies. For almost five years his life went on as it had always
gone: uneventfully. There was some comfort in knowing that his life
was boring. There were, of course, many more people out there who
lives were miserable, trapped in terrible relationships, living on
the streets without a dime in their pocket, or coping with illness
that handicapped them for life. Still...as his twenties began drawing
to a anticlimactic close, Bradly began to realize he had little to
look back to on his life. He had no major failures, but also no major
accomplishments, aside from his high school graduation. So far, he
had simply coasted through life, like a man in a dream. Lost, but
unable to escape, trying to make sense of the world around him.
Finally, at the beginning of this
year, the factory he worked at lost one of their biggest customers,
resulting in many being laid off as the work load was greatly
diminished. Though he had money saved up and was not in immediate
danger of being evicted, as well that the factory promised to offer
his job back if business picked up again, it suddenly became a
reality that Bradley Peterson would enter his thirtieth year of life
single and unemployed. His depression came roaring back, and, without
much else to do, he went out his usual bar and drank in honor of his
thirty years. In typical fashion, he did not cause any scene despite
his inebriation, leaving without incident when the bartender cut him
off. His apartment only a few blocks away, he left his car in the
parking lot of the bar, and began the long, stumbling journey home.
On his way, he made a detour into the local park, sitting down at a
park bench when the nausea began to sink into him. After he had
tossed his gorge, he leaned back into the old wooden seat and stared
up into the clear night sky.
“Thirty years...” He said to
absolutely nobody. “Thirty fucking years, Bradley my man. And what
do you got to show for it?”
He paused, as if waiting for some
voice to answer him.
“You know...” He said, again
speaking aloud to no one. “You're not a kid anymore. Not at fucking
thirty. When you're in your twenties, everyone still acts like you're
a kid. A little baby, right? But not when you're thirty. You're
practically middle aged at thirty. I mean, I already got gray hairs.
My hair's starting to thin out just like my old man's did. But when
my father was thirty, he was already married. Just like everyone
else. But not me. Had a job too. I had one, but now I don't. Don't
need me anymore. Nobody ever has. Didn't amount to anything anyway.
What does it fucking matter, though? Who gives a shit? Even I got it
together, this whole planet is fucked anyway, right? The climate is
fucked. The economy is fucked. Turn on the damn evening news and tell
me we're not all fucked. What does it even matter?”
Again, there was no answer. He sighed.
For the first time in his life,
suicide became a serious consideration. It had appeared in his
thoughts before, but he had managed to push it away. He had been
young, his whole life ahead of him. Now, however, he youth was
practically over and everything he had done up till now had lead up
to a great big ball of not a damn thing. He stood up from the bench
and slowly began to make his way across the park. There was a pond at
the other end, and his drunken mind had suddenly come a conclusion.
“I'm gonna drown myself in the
fucking pond,” He said loudly. “We're all gonna die in a about
ten years or so anyway, right? Right? You're goddamn right. Why
bother trying to fix shit when its all gonna amount to jack shit
anyway? I'm ahead of the game. I'm just not gonna play. You can't get
played when you don't play, that's just how it goes.”
There was, of course no one at the
pond. It was almost midnight, it was probably illegal for him to even
be here. But he was well beyond caring about such things right now.
As he approached the cold water, he saw the night sky in it, the moon
and stars reflected in the dark abyss. There was something poetic
about that, he thought. He remembered how he had felt in school when
he had first discovered the vast expanse of outer space. How the
universe was so large it would forever be a mystery to humanity,
whose existence on one small ball in the ever expanding cosmos would
go unnoticed by whatever was out there when life here finally fizzled
out. A man as mediocre as himself was never going to be an astronaut.
He would never set foot onto the surface of the moon or brave a trip
outside of his own atmosphere. But here, in this lonely park, the
reflection of infinite space would be a close enough approximation.
He would return to the void that had created him.
“Happy fucking birthday.”
He let himself fall face first into
pond. The cold water initially shocked him back to his senses,
causing him to paddle frantically to get back to the surface. But
then the alcohol in his brain took its toll and his vision quickly
began to fade. His last thought was of his parents, before he, as he
had promised he would, returned to the void.
2
Later on, he would remember thinking
that the events of the previous night, at least after leaving the
bars, had been a dream. And not without good reason.
For one, he was clearly alive. Or at
least he was pretty sure he was. If this was the afterlife he had
hoped it would be something more glamorous than his small apartment.
Second, he was still dressed in the same clothes that he'd wallowed
around in the night before and they were not even damp from his
alleged dive into the park's pond.
But there was a problem. Despite his
inebriation, he had very clear memories of the park. His staggering
there, the dark hole of depression, and, of course, being swallowed
by the cold abyss. If those had not happened, then where had he gone
after leaving the bar? More importantly, how had he returned home?
There was a painful gap in his memory if his recollections were in
fact of a drunken dream. Had he just stumbled here, like a robot in
automatic? Had some Samaritan picked him up? Who had they been and
where had they gone? His eyes scanned the tables and saw nothing of a
note or even any trace that anyone else had been here.
And it got worse.
Suppose that the events of the dream
had actually happened. Ignoring that his clothes were bone dry had
this Samaritan pulled him from the pond? If so, someone out there was
aware of his clumsy suicide attempt. Were the police going to arrive?
Ask him where he had been last night and what had happened? Would
they contact his parents? At the very least should he expect a call
from his mother? What would her reaction be? She'd probably demand he
come home. He might end up in the office of a shrink. Pills of some
kind would probably be prescribed.
Of course, all that assumed he hadn't
dreamt the events at the park. Which he still wasn't sure was the
case. He could feel his head begin to spin. And speaking of which, he
began to realize how good he felt. Well, “good” probably was not
the correct term, rather normal. How NORMAL he felt. He brain didn't
feel like it had been used as a punching bag, despite the fact that
he had assuredly taken in a box car of booze the night before. Had he
even gone to the bars last night? No, of course he had. It had been
his birthday, one of the driving factors for his drinking (as well as
for his depression, come to think of it). He remembered, clearly,
going out...but he also remembered the pond. There was no proof of
the latter, but what of the former. Of course! Receipts! For the
drinks! He thrust his hand into his pocket, finding the thin pouch
that was his wallet. Tossing that aside onto the coffee table, he dug
into his jeans again and quickly found the receipts.
They were from last night. And they
were damp. The water damage on them was clear.
Bradley Peterson stared at the moist
slips of paper in his hands, his mind reeling. And there was no booze
to pin the blame on.
“What the fuck?” He said aloud.
“I'm glad to see you up.”
Bradley nearly screamed. He whirled
around towards the sound, the damp paper slipping from his fingers.
All at once he forgot them. At at once he thought he was dreaming
again.
Sitting in the armchair in the corner
of the living room of his kitchenette was a young woman. At least,
she kinda looked like a young woman, though none like he'd ever seen
before. The first thing he noticed was the hair. It was long, it was
straight, and it was a deep shade of purple. Then he saw the eyes.
They were a rich blue color, but small speckles of white seemed to
slowly twirl in the irises like stars. To Bradley, they somehow
reminded him of the ring around Saturn. The most striking thing about
the woman, however, was her attire, which seemed to be a full body
suit which covered every inch of her below the neck; hands, feet and
all. The suit was a very light blue, to the point that Bradley
thought it was white for a moment. Red circles dotted the surface of
the suit, connected by thin lines of the same color. Some sort of
wiring? The feet of the suit appeared to be fashioned into some kind
of boots, the soles of which white and the grooves seemed to glow
from some power source. As his eyes quickly scanned the suit, he
became aware of the second striking thing, the sheer size of the
woman. Her long legs were stretched out far from the chair she sat
in, which she seemed almost too big for, her wide hips barely fitting
within the arms of the sofa. But despite her obvious height, her body
was not rail thin as most people of extraordinary height tended to
be, but rather full and curved. Her face was a fascinating mixture of
youth and maturity that Bradley would have struggled to explain had
he been asked. Under ordinary circumstances, he might have
immediately been smitten with by this woman. But...
“Who the fuck are YOU?” Bradley
asked. It came out much ruder than he'd meant. The swear had not been
intended, either. But the shock of this unexpected, combined with his
previous feelings of confusion about the night before, compounded his
mind.
“My name is Arell.” His visitor
replied calmly. “And yours is Bradley Peterson.”
“How...?” Peterson breathed. It
was all he could manage.
“Simple enough,” The woman called
Arell said. “You had your license in your wallet, after all.”
“You looked...” Bradley stopped,
his mind reeling again. “Did you...?”
“Yes, I looked in your wallet,”
Arell nodded. “And, if you were about to ask, yes, I pulled you out
of the pond at the park last night.”
“Oh...” He replied lamely. Well,
THAT mystery was solved. Too bad it had already been replaced.
“You were intoxicated.” She said.
There was no righteous judgment in her words. “But...that's not why
you fell in, was it?”
Bradley didn't answer.
“No.” She shook her head. “There
was more to it than that, correct?”
“I...” Peterson began. “...look,
I guess I should thank you for saving my life. I...uh...hope I didn't
cause you too much stress. I just got pretty hammered last night
and...well, I already got one DUI some years back, so I tend to walk
when I drink now. I just wandered through the park and fell in.
Probably would have been it for me if you hadn't shown up.
So...thanks.”
“You're welcome.” Arell replied.
She tilted her head. “But I don't think it was that simple. It
didn't sound that simple.”
Bradley said nothing.
“I heard you before you fell in the
water.” She said. “It was sheer happenstance that I did. It's
almost like it was destiny. But you were talking aloud, bemoaning
your life. Bemoaning the state of your planet, your country...do you
remember?”
He did sort of remember his ramblings.
The trip to the pond was clear enough, though some small details were
blurry. But her choice of words were a little strange.”Your
planet”, “Your country”, she had said?
“You don't feel you've accomplished
much,” His visitor went on. He listened carefully. There was an
accent in her voice, but it was...strange. It was not a recognizable
dialect. “You lost your job recently. You feel that your youth is
slipping through your fingers like sand. A life of excruciating
inadequacy, coupled with the looming feeling of hopelessness. What
point is there to try in a world that one feels is doomed, yes?”
“Well...” Bradley replied
uneasily. “...uh, look, um...?”
“Arell.”
“Arell...” He repeated.
“That's...an interesting name. Is it...European...?”
“No.” She said simply. Then, she
stood up, causing Bradley to retreat a few steps. Her head appeared
to be less than an inch from touching the ceiling. Her height had to
be almost ten feet! She walked towards the window on the far wall and
gazed out it, her hands behind her back. From where he stood, he was
just able to see a sliver of what was beyond the glass. He saw a
dark, starry sky. “I'm not from planet Earth.”
“Sorry?”
“You heard me correctly.”
“Well, that'd explain your getup,”
Bradley said slowly. The feeling of being in a dream began to creep
back in. “And your hair, I guess, I just thought that you...” He
stopped. Honestly, he hadn't thought of anything.
“I can prove it.” The tall woman
replied, turning her head back to look at him. “Quite easily, in
fact.”
“Oh, really?”
“Sure. Come look out the window.”
She sidestepped from the pane to allow him to approach.
He hesitated. It wasn't because he
didn't want to look out the window, of course not. What could there
beyond the overview of the highway? No, it was her. He didn't want to
get too close to her. She was strange to say the very least, from
head to toe. She looked like a character that'd be accompanying
Doctor Who on one of his adventures. Her attire didn't seem to be a
costume. It looked too...real. There were no events around here, no
Comic Con or anything to attract cosplayers, and even then he doubted
they'd be able to create something as intricate as her suit. Also,
not to put too fine a point on it, she was huge, which seemed to also
lead credence to her words. And she was far from frail looking.
“I'm not going to hurt you,
Bradley.” She said, as if his thoughts had been flashing at her
like a neon sign. “If I had wanted to harm you, I wouldn't have
rescued you.”
“Why DID you rescue me?”
“A strange question. Does one
require a reason to save another's life?”
“I guess I could ask your question
from earlier: it wasn't that simple, was it?”
“Are you going to look out the
window or not?”
Again, he hesitated for a moment
before he finally began to inch towards her. As he did, he felt a
growing awe of how tall she was. Bradley stood around five foot
eight, and his head barely reached her hip. He had to crane his neck
to even keep eye contact with her, which became more difficult as her
face began to recede behind the not inconsiderable swell of her
breasts, like the sun disappearing behind the horizon. His body began
to tense as he approached the windowsill, a growing apprehension
that, despite her assurances, he'd feel her strong hand clasp his
shoulder the moment he broke line of sight with her eyes. Still,
peeked around the window pane and glanced out.
The highway was gone. In its place was
nothing but the vast expanse of the dark, starry night, illuminated
by one glowing orb that, to his mounting horror, was not the moon. It
was, in fact, the familiar pale blue ball that he knew as Earth. He
leapt back, recoiling from both the window and his tall visitor, who
watched him with calm interest.
“This is a trick.” He said without
thinking. Suddenly, he felt dizzy. “Or a dream. A crazy, drunken
dream.”
“I know it's a lot to take in.”
Arell said. The sympathy in her voice appeared genuine. “Which is
why I fashioned this into the style of your apartment. I didn't want
to alarm you by having you wake up in a foreign place.”
“What do you mean 'fashioned'...?”
“This is not your apartment,” She
snapped her fingers, the tips of which glowed white in a brief flash.
Without blinking, Bradley saw his apartment vanish, replaced by
nothing but sheer white. “We're not inside a computer simulation
either, if the sudden change of scenery makes you think that.”
“Then where are we...?” He asked.
His voice sounded dazed and distant. It was as if he was not himself,
but rather just some confused observer residing within his own mind.
“On my ship.” She replied. “Right
now, you're in a special room that I've used to communicate with all
manner of lifeforms that I've encountered throughout the cosmos. It's
equipped with an atom assembler, which...how should I put this?
Imagine a machine that is both like a hologram projector and a 3D
printer. With it, I can create a wide assortment of constructs, even
food. Speaking of which...” She raised one hand, but snapped the
fingers of the other. In the free hand, a glass of water appeared.
“Would you like a drink? I'm sorry, I meant to offer you one
sooner.”
Bradley stared at the glass for a
moment. It sure looked real. He took it. It sure FELT real. The water
sloshed in the glass held in his shaking hand. Some of it spilled
over the side, splashing on his hand. It was cold, ice cold.
“This is just a dream.” He said
softly, slowly turning away, the glass falling from his hand. He
didn't hear it shatter. “A weird dream. A real WEIRD fucking dream.
You've had 'em before. Nothing to worry about, you're still drunk.
It'll pass. I'll wake up.”
“I understand this is a lot to take
in,” She replied, sympathetically. One of her big hands dropped on
his shoulder and squeezed gently. “But this is real, Bradley. I
need you to accept that if we're going to move forward.”
“Move forward?” He asked, turning
back towards her. She had dropped on one knee behind him, her face
closer down to his. He shivered.
“Yes. As I said, I'm from a distant
planet called Avakon. The reason I am here is because I'm something
of a researcher. I explore the stars and galaxies for planets that
contain life, such as little planet Earth. The goal is obviously to
discover new species of life, new worlds, new biomes, etc, and to
expand our knowledge of the cosmos.” She let go of his shoulder.
“But it's not all strictly academic. While we do try to avoid
getting directly involved with the native population, we do intervene
on occasion should they be facing a particularly devastating
disaster. An imminent hit from a large meteor, a dying sun, or even
an invasive species. That last one is rare, but it does happen.”
“So you're saying there's some great
disaster facing Earth?” Bradley asked, slowly. The world still swam
in his eyes, his mind dizzy. Everything still had that dream feeling
to it. “What is it?”
“You know what I'm referring to.”
Arell said. “Your scientists have broadcast it numerous times in
very plain and dire words for quite some time. The increasing
temperatures of your planet. What you call 'Global Warming'. The
effects of this will be slow, but extremely devastating. Your coastal
cities, your agriculture, your very ways of life are all threatened.”
Bradley said nothing.
“As terrible as that alone is, it is
not the only pain that humanity suffers,” Arell went on somberly.
“Wars, division...your own country seems to be on the brink of a
major civil war. Pollution, the deaths of many species, the imbalance
of many ecosystems. Starvation in many developing countries. And
disease, of course. No doubt you've heard stories of something
spreading throughout Wuhan, China. A pestilence that threatens to
ravage the entire globe.”
“You mean that strain of flu?”
“It's more than that,” She shook
her head. “It is far more viral than your average flu. It will
spread across entire continents in a matter of weeks if not contained
quickly.”
“Oh...” Peterson said simply.
Another out of control plague, huh? Might as well. Haven't had one of
those in awhile. Whatever, he still wasn't convinced this was real.
But might as well play along till he either woke up or his mind
stopped spinning. “So...what? Are you here to save the day? Solve
all of our problems?”
“Well...” Arell replied, a look of
discomfort coming onto her face. “That's where we encounter
another...unique problem.”
“Which is?”
Arell slowly waved her hands down
across the length of her body. “Tell me, Bradley Peterson, do you
notice something peculiar about me?”
“You're really tall?”
Another look of discomfort, a
noticeable grimace. “...yes, that one is no doubt obvious. But look
again.” She slowly twirled, showing him all angles of her form.
“Doesn't something strike you as odd?”
“Your hair's purple. You're wearing
a weird suit. Your eyes are definitely one of a kind, I'll give you
that. And...” He paused. “...you're really fucking tall. That's
all I got.”
“You don't find it strange that I
just told you that I'm from a distant planet,” She said. “And
yet, aside from some differences, I am nearly identical in form to
your average female here on Earth?”
Bradley paused. He looked at her
again, head to toe. There was no denying it. She looked human.
“I...” He began. “I guess I
kinda assumed...you said that you could make constructs and stuff
with your tech. I just imagined this was some kind of holograph or
something. Some form you took.”
“Well...” Another look of
discomfort etched her face. “You're not entirely wrong there.”
She waved at her body again. “This IS a projection. I'm not
actually with you right now, you see. I didn't want to frighten you,
but...”
“So this isn't your real form?”
“No, this IS my real form,” She
replied. “Just a projection of it. I am not a shape shifter.”
“Well, if this is a projection of
you and you're not really here,” Bradley countered. “Then where
are you? Look, I still don't fully believe you. This...all this.”
He waved around the white room. “This is all crazy. I've been alive
for thirty years and I've never seen anything like it. So either I'm
dreaming a real wacky dream, or you're a real alien lady from another
planet. I think I know which version is real. But while I'm here,
whatever 'here' is, why don't you cut it out with the projection or
whatever and come and meet me. Face to face.”
Arell looked at him for a moment.
Then, she nodded.
“Very well,” She said. “I didn't
really want to do this so soon. But, if you're so insistent on
believing this isn't real, perhaps it's best. Just a moment then.”
And then, she disappeared. Just faded
out of existence like a character in Star Trek being “beamed up”,
leaving him alone in the whiteness. Then, the soft hum of a machine
powering down filled his ears and the whiteness too faded. Bradley's
eyes widened.
He was standing in what looked like a
giant glass box, the ceiling and corners of which were adorned with
several fixtures and mechanical parts that he didn't recognize at
all. But he could see that this wasn't just a box, it was some sort
of device. But it wasn't the strange structure that he was in, it was
beyond it that made his spine shiver. He seemed to be in some kind of
massive facility that stretched on for what seemed like miles. It was
nothing like anything he'd seen before. His mind could not even begin
to form some understanding of what he was looking at. There was
clearly tech, he could see flashing lights and what looked like large
machines and structures in the distance, but they were foreign to
him.
A ship, his racing mind suddenly
thought, she said this was her ship.
How huge was this fucking thing? Was
her entire species on this damn thing? Well, it would make sense.
This place, as large as it was, would definitely require a lot of
manpower to keep maintained. Was she some kind of high ranking
captain of something? If she was in charge of all of this, then she
had to be a big name among her kind.
That was when he felt it.
A tremor. Soft and distant. Another
one followed. Then another. Each time they grew harder and closer.
They came at a rhythmic pace that was so familiar Bradley couldn't
possibly deny it. Footsteps. Though the tremors were not
overpowering, his dazed mind couldn't keep up with them and he fell
onto his ass as they continued to grow. Finally, something appeared
beyond the walls of his “box”. A wall of very light blue, marked
with long thin lines of some electrical wiring, dotted by glowing red
dots, appeared before him. The wall was tall, curved in form, and
topped her a deep shade of purple hair. Then he saw the eyes.
“Well,” She said, her voice
ringing in his ears. “You wanted to see me. Here I am.”
She raised a hand and one of her
fingers tapped the ground near the “box”. The ceiling came apart
in four equal pieces, folding themselves upward, before sliding down
with the glass into slots. Suddenly, he was in no “box”. He felt
exposed. Then, the finger raised and slowly approached him. He
recoiled from it, but there was nowhere to hid. It gently touched
down next to him and then slowly slid into him.
“This is the real me,” Arell said.
Her finger rose and then came back down next to him firmly. Then it
rose and repeated this a few times. He could feel the impact, feel
the air move with the massive appendage. He looked over the hand
towards the eyes that watched him. “This is all real, Bradley. This
not a dream.”
“You! How!? What!?” He screamed
instinctively and incoherently.
“You don't have to yell,” Arell
replied calmly. “I've been working with species your size for much
of my life. You could say my ears are very finely tuned.” She
retracted her hand.
“Wh-What do you want from me!?”
“Ah, that's a very good question.”
She sat down and brought her face down till it hovered over him. Her
long hair draped down in a long wall near him, some large soft
strands brushing against him. He felt the cool rush as her nose
sucked in air, and a warm breeze at it exhaled. He could feel her,
the heat from her body. Moreover, unlike before, he could SMELL her.
A sweet but completely foreign scent filled his own nostrils. Its
presence was so much that he could even taste it. Everything about
her filled his senses. She was there. She was real.
“We have a lot to talk about...my
little Earthy.”
“E-Earthy?” Bradley repeated
weakly.
“Yes,” The giant woman replied. He
couldn't see the smile but it was very audible. “It's just a cute
little name I came up with. You're all just little Earthies!”
“Not a very sciencey name for a
researcher...”
“That's very true,” Arell
admitted. “But what else could I do? A very bizarre truth rest
before us, Bradley. Despite the obvious difference of height and sex,
our anatomies are nearly identical, externally and internally. Our
biological systems; digestive, cardiovascular, respiratory, et
cetera...all of them share the same structure and function in almost
precisely the same way. The discrepancies are minor and arise from
the size difference. I, logically, couldn't call you a human or homo
sapiens unless I was prepared to claim those titles for myself as
well!”
Bradley said nothing, only stared with
wide eyes. His head was beginning to pound. A stubborn part of him
still held onto the idea of this being a dream, refusing to accept
this insanity as reality. It was beginning to feel more like a bad
drug trip than a dream.
“I could have gone with
'Earthlings',” The woman from the stars mused aloud. “A lot of
your science fiction tends to have other worldly entities refer to
humanity in that manner. But it seemed...not just cliché, but too
cold. So I though of 'Earthy', instead. I realize it might sound
silly, but I've grown attached to it all the same.”
“Call me whatever you want,”
Bradley said in a low voice, holding his head in his hands. The pain
was growing and he desperately wanted it to cease. “Just let me go.
I just want to go home, please. I want to go home and work on
forgetting...whatever this is.”
“You speak as if I'm holding you
prisoner.”
Bradley didn't respond.
“You asked what I wanted from you,”
Arell continued. “What I want is simply your humble opinion as a
sort of emissary of Earth.”
“My...opinion?”
“That's right.”
“On what?”
“As I've said, and as you yourself
are aware,” Arell said. “Earth faces many challenges and I fear
her children are woefully unprepared at best, unwilling at worst, to
shoulder the responsibility of overcoming these obstacles. I have
observed you Earthies for a long time. I know your history very well,
perhaps better than you yourselves. Many mistakes you have not
learned from and you are thus, as your saying goes, condemned to
repeat them in a viscous, generational cycle.” She leaned forward.
“I wish to help you break this cycle.”
“How long have you been watching
us?” Bradley asked. The pain throbbed and throbbed and he waited
for it to be over.
“I witnessed Julius Caesar cross the
Rubicon.”
A new, sharp pain stabbed Bradley's
brain. “Bullshit!” He cried instinctively. “You'd...you'd be
over a thousand years old!”
“We Avakonians are very old,”
Arell said, nodding. “At least by your standards. Needless to say,
our perception of time isn't quite as...short sighted as yours.”
“But...but if you've been watching
us for THAT long, then why wait for me? What kept you from fucking
beaming Caesar himself up here and asking HIS opinion?”
“Oh this isn't the first time I've
thought of doing this, believe me. But, you musn't forget that I'm
primarily a researcher. I don't meddle in the affairs of another
planet unless I absolutely have to. But yours is a...special case.”
“Because...?”
“Because we're the same race,” She
answered. “This is empirically demonstrated all the way down to our
DNA. This connection is too precise to be a mere coincidence. The
parameters of my role as a researcher dictate that I be merely a
silent observer. But, as we're essentially kin, my heart says that I
have to step in and help you in your time of need. This has been my
struggle for many centuries and I have resisted temptation. But it
has been hard, and it has grown more difficult. When I watched the
Germans round up their Jewish populations, I...I couldn't...and then
your discovery of the atomic bomb...” Her eyes began to tear up.
She paused for a moment and made a visibly conscious effort to bring
her emotions under control. “That was the hardest time for me. I
began to think that by doing nothing I was allowing suffering to
happen. How much of it was my fault by me choosing to not act? But,
of course, I could not just swoop in and take control of all
governments and implement my own rule like some petty despot. If I
was to help Earth, I would like for it to because her children chose
to accept my assistance.”
“...and you're asking ME this
question...?”
“In a sense...yes.”
“In a sense?”
“Well...” Arell's face drew away
as she leaned back in her chair, an uncomfortable expression dawning.
“If you and your fellow Earthies were to refuse that would put me
in a very...awkward position. If you had a loved one who suffered
from a crippling addiction that was destroying them, could you just
walk away if they refused your help? Let them continue down that path
until they met a bitter end; a long and drawn out suicide? Or would
you insist yourself upon them? Your intentions may be pure,
but...well, Earthies have another wise saying about good intentions.”
“I still don't understand why you're
asking ME this...” Bradley said, rubbing both eyes. “You have
billions of 'Earthies' to choose from. You could have brought all the
leaders of the world onto your ship. But...you pick me?”
“In a way, I didn't pick you,”
Arell replied. “It was by sheer happenstance that I happened to
discover you and hear your musings about the state of not only your
own life but that of the planet and 'mankind' itself. I saw someone
defeated, at the end of their rope, distraught. My heart went out to
you. And when you threw yourself into that pond, I acted out of
impulse. I brought you onto the ship. It was not a logical decision.
But as you laid there unconscious in my hands, I realized that this
may be the opportunity I was looking for. If I could bring light and
hope into the life of one who was willing to throw himself into the
dark void, then perhaps there was a chance I could do the same for
the rest of the planet. Call it fate, luck, or whatever you wish. But
that is why I am asking you, Bradley Peterson of Earth.”
“But I'm just one guy!” Bradley
protested. His head continued to throb as his mind frantically
attempted to process this. It's all a dream, the stubborn voice
insisted, none of this is real. You were boozed out of your mind and
now this is what your soaked brain is coming up with. Just wait, that
voice said, it will end soon enough. “You want ME to decide the
fate of humanity?”
“To an extent. Even if Earthies
decide they don't want my help, I am still bound by my own morality
to help them. Should it come to that, I would value a voice other
than my own. Despite our biological bond, Earth is not my home but
yours. Your voice would be a reminder of that, an anchor. You have
bonds to the planet that I, even as a long observer, do not.”
“And if I say 'no'? Are you going to
'insist yourself' on me as well?”
“You're not a prisoner, Bradley.”
“Sure feels like I'm a prisoner...”
“I have only explained my desire to
help you and your fellow Earthies. Before you make your decision, you
might want to hear about all that I have to offer.”
“Let me guess...world peace?”
“A good guess, but we can aim for
the stars later,” Arell snapped her fingers and a holographic
interface, something Bradley had only seen in movies, appeared before
her and she began typing inputs. “Let's aim for something smaller
for now, like that headache you're clearly suffering from.”
A loud whirring noise (or at least it
was loud for tiny Bradley) sounded from within the massive desk or
whatever his “cage” sat upon. A slot opened and from it a
cylindrical piece of tech appeared. Arell tapped her interface again
and the top of the cylinder opened and a small, white spherical
machine, with a big glowing digital eye, flew out of it. The machine
hovered for a moment as Arell continued to work before it finally
turned towards him. A brilliant flash of light. A sudden loud popping
noise. And the machine had appeared inside the cage, floating above
him, staring with its glowing eye.
“Jesus fuck!” Bradley cried,
stumbling back. His heart began to race. His head felt like it was
going to explode from the stress. “Get that thing away!”
“Calm down, Bradley,” Arell spoke
calmly. “It's not going to hurt you. Quite the opposite, actually.”
The orb's eye emitted a long, cone
shaped beam that scanned up Bradley. It started from his feet and
slowly worked its way up. When it reached his forehead, a loud
beeping sounded and its beam turned red. Then, it began to whir.
Bradley immediately wanted to run but before he could even get
himself into gear he felt something happening. There was no pain, but
something WAS happening. He could feel it. Like his brain was being
massaged (or perhaps carefully reassembled). And within seconds, the
throbbing pain melted away. The orb's beam turned green and it beeped
twice. Then, it reoriented itself and scanned with a yellow beam.
When it was done, it harshly beeped again, and inched closer to
Bradley before making a soft hiss like sound. A smell suddenly
touched his nose. It was nothing like he'd ever experienced before;
completely foreign and yet very soft and pleasant. He inhaled it
slowly and deeply like a smoker taking a cigarette break during a
very stressful day. It was soothing, hypnotic.
“Feel better?” Arell asked.
“Yes,” He answered simply and
honestly.
“Good. What you're smelling is the
scent of a Callovern, a beautiful flower native to Avakon, my home
planet. It's a rare flora that is renowned for its extraordinarily
sweet smelling and soothing pheromones.”
“It's...definitely soothing,”
Bradley replied serenely.
“Yes it is. Avakonian scientists
believe it evolved that trait to entice pollinators to create nests
near it, as it originated in frigid biomes where insects would go
inactive during long cold seasons. I have a pot of Calloverns beside
my bed. They're wonderful sleep aids.”
“So why did that ball thing spray
pheromones at me? What even IS that thing?”
“Essentially because its vitals scan
detected all the tell tale signs of elevated stress.” Arell
explained. “As for what it is, it's a P.A.R.O.”
“A what?”
“It's an acronym. You wouldn't
understand the words as they're Avakonian, but, to put it simply, its
a series of robots designed to make medical diagnoses and provide
treatment. Little P.A.R.Os, like the one before you, were designed
for species of your size but can also be useful for Avakonians if
very precise treatment is needed so that the bot can go inside their
bodies. It can do so much more than soothe nerves and treat stress
headaches. It can mend bones and soft tissue damage, eradicate
infections, remove invasive parasites, and, before you ask, yes...it
can even cure cancer.”
A part of Bradley wanted to protest,
to doubt that a strange floating ball thing could do so much, not
matter how high tech it looked and what fancy lights came out of it.
But having experienced its “touch” he could do nothing but stare
at it.
“And that's only a fraction
of what I can offer Earthies,” Arell went on. She leaned forward,
bringing her otherworldly and breathtaking eyes down to him. Bradley
could hear the eagerness in her voice. “The Avakonians have
technology that is lightyears ahead
of what Earthies have now. And I can share it all with you and your
planet! Agricultural advancements, clean and efficient renewable
energy sources, space travel...even overpopulation can be solved!”
“...how?”
Bradley asked breathlessly. The P.A.R.O beeped again and the sweet
pheromones of the Callo-flower thing filled his nose. A new wave of
serene calm washed over him.
“Well,”
Arell began to explain. “I can offer space on my ship in the short
term. Such a move might be necessary to ensure that Earth can be
healed of its pollution thoroughly. But, more importantly and in the
long term, I could begin the process of terraformation of other
planets, notably Mars and Venus.”
“You're
telling me you, a single Ava-whatever...”
“Avakonian.”
“Yeah...Avakonian...a
single one of you can terraform two planets?”
“I
can.” Arell replied without hesitation. “Admittedly, I am not as
efficient at it as others from my planet. We have scientists
dedicated to the craft and have perfected it. It'd take decades for
me to do it alone. But I can start the process and they can finish.
With the proper teams it would only take a couple of Earth years.”
“You
want to bring more of you here!?”
“I
do,” Arell said. She drew her face away and Bradley saw a look of
awkward look on her face. “I...I'm breaking protocols by doing
this. I am not authorized to interact with planets unless it is a
dire emergency that threatens the entire species. However, you and
your fellow Earthies are a very unique situation. You're a
confounding problem. I don't know how but it is very clear to me that
you are, somehow, a biological cousin of the Avakonians if you'll
pardon the expression.”
“You're
afraid of what they'll do if they find out you're 'breaking
protocol'?”
“No.
I'm sure they'll understand. And they'll want to help, especially
when they've seen my observations of Earth, which I'll be obligated
to give to them. They'll come in droves without hesitation.”
“Oh
god...!” Bradley breathed. The P.A.R.O beeped.
“And
THAT is my fear,” Arell said. “They will have the best
intentions, but having so many of them arrive all at once and without
any warning...I cannot see the Earthies interpreting that as anything
other than an invasion, a take over. They'll fight back.”
“They
would?” Peterson asked. “Why? One of the things you're offering
is a cure for cancer! I know people who'd probably KILL for that.”
“You're
right,” “Arell nodded. “But, and I don't say this to sound
judgmental or condescending, but many of your fellow Earthies contest
the efficacy of vaccinations and believe your planet to be flat.
Superstitions and other irrationality abound. Just my presence alone
would shake the core beliefs of almost all major religious doctrines
on Earth. I'm sure I don't need to explain to you how some of your
fellow Earthies simply refuse to be swayed from their cherished
beliefs, even when it would benefit them.”
“You're...you're
not wrong,” Bradley admitted, unable to resist feeling a little ashamed for
some reason.
“It's
nothing to be embarrassed about. Earthies still have much to learn,
and when you are faced with such insurmountable ignorance
superstitions are inevitable. Many natives of other planets are the
same way. Even the Avakonians clutched religious texts to our bosoms
back in our early days long, LONG ago.”
“How
long ago was 'long ago'?”
Arell
waved a hand. “We can talk about my planet some other time. Right
now, we need to focus on yours. I want the Avakonians to come here
but not until Earthies are ready for them. I want to try a more
gentle approach. I want to share my offerings with them little by
little; give the Earthies time to take it in. Some will be
suspicious, I'm sure. But I believe that, slowly over a year, they
will realize that I am here to help not harm, and they'll cast their
suspicions aside. And then, I will call the Avakonians here, and
Earth's golden age will begin proper!”
Again,
she brought her eyes down. They literally seemed to sparkle with
excitement; the white speckles in her brilliant blue irises seemed to
twinkle like stars.
“So...what
do you think, little Earthy?” She asked softly.
Bradley
gaped at her. The P.A.R.O beeped again.
“I
think I'm gonna overdose on pheromones...” He said weakly.
“You
won't. The Callovern's pheromones are completely safe.” He saw the
smile through her eyes. “You only need to worry about the little
P.A.R.O running out.”
He
didn't respond. In spite of the pheromones, the weight of the
situation weighed heavily on Bradley Peterson's chest. He really
didn't know what to think. The only thing that he really knew was he
was becoming more and more sure of was that he was not the person who
should be here.
“Bradley...”
He
looked up at her eyes.
“You
told me a moment ago that nothing you say matters,” She said “Maybe
that was true on Earth. There you were but one voice in a sea of
billions. You believed your life was a waste, inconsequential. But
now you're here. With me. And I believe I can change your planet in
ways never thought possible. I know I can. There's no other voice
here besides yours.”
She
leaned closer, her sparkling eyes twinkled brighter.
“And
I promise, from the bottom of my heart to listen.”
Bradley
Peterson of Earth stared at her for a few minutes before dropping his
eyes.
Arell
of Avakon watched him.
An
hour passed on Earth before his voice finally, and timidly, spoke.
And when it did, she listened carefully.