They came at night with their torches and weapons, like they always do. Teeth bared, eyes glazed, like they were in heat. Not for sex, but for the hunting of the less-than. Their idea of pleasure, always one-sided.
Nostrils flaring for the scent of fear, intoxicated by it.
Not my fear. Theirs. Fear of the Other. Of change.
Somewhere, faintly, fear of doing the wrong thing, of being found out, shamed. Of what they see of themselves in me.
I sigh and get dressed, head to my front door and open it. Making sure of standing tall, head held high, like a hawk.
Getting out to meet the mob always robs them of the joy of an easy catch of a scared and cowering prey, so they fall silent.
Staring down the leader I declare: “It is not I who is the a monster!”
“I feel like people use me as a special tool. Forgotten in a box until my brain or skills are needed, used and put away again.” I said, checking my files for the requested piece of info.
Ty looked up at the screen, somewhat startled. “You said something? Sorry didn't hear, I was chatting with Mia.”
“I was just muttering to myself…”
“Yeah ok. Did you find it?”
“Yes, I'm sending it now.”
“Thanks! We got to go out for a coffee or something, I'll call you!”
Ty didn't wait for my answer before ending the call.
The dust hadn't yet settled, but hearing “Im one man failure rate!” said with a tone of being accompanied with a sheepish grin told me there were no casualties.
I assumed my usual role in situations like this and said: “I don't think the term works like that. You are thinking of 'disaster zone'...”
Kay groaned, theatrically: “SEE! Didn't get THAT right, either!”
“And you're not a man.”
She collapsed on the floor, laughing.“Ann, you're KILLING me!”
“Well, you're just a lovely little ball of paranoid psychosis.” she said while peering down at me with a studying eye. Her voice oozed false lightness, the tone reserved for the lesser-than. Babies, puppies, the elderly, the mentally… less.
My mind was burning. “You sick sadistic FUCK! With what right…”, but my body managed only a whimper and an involuntary twitch.
With the arrogance of power she read this to her liking. “Ball! Yes.”, she cooed. “No 'play ball' – YOU are the ball, yes you are!”
“I don't know…” I said. “I'm still not certain that's a good idea.”
“Oh come on!” she replied, pretending to poke my ribs repeatedly with both her index fingers, making faux stabs in rapid fire sequence. I knew my part in this game of hers and pretended to try dodging her pokes. “What do you have to lose?”
Well...I don't know…” I said.
“Everything!”, I thought.
They came at night with their torches and weapons, like they always do. Teeth bared, eyes glazed, in heat for the hunting of the less-than. Nostrils flaring for the scent of fear, intoxicated by it.
Not my fear. Theirs. Fear of the Other. Of change.
Somewhere, faintly, fear of doing the wrong thing, of being found out, shamed. Of what they see of themselves in me.
Getting out to meet the mob robs them the joy of catch and they fall silent. Staring down the leader I deckare: “I am not a monster.”
The excitement was downright tangible. Means of communication was found and proven to work!
The aliens had agreed to have their first press conference for journalists. One for each country, one question per journalist.
Just as everybody was set and the event was about to begin, there appeared to be some commotion among the press. Somebody was shuffling and elbowing their way up to the front.
There was some grumbling, but if only one out of around 200 was that uncivilized, things were pretty good, actually!
The conference began, it was time for first question. Just as the Afghani journalist was about to ask her question, that pushy one shouted:
“Why did you land HERE, instead of the United States?'
I've had That Dead Thing inside of me for so long, I can't remember where I picked it up – or when. We've grown so used to each other, the alive and the dead, we rarely notice we're not alone in this body. Sometimes we wake up screaming in one voice and remember with a sigh: Oh. Yes. Whatever happens, there's always That.