Prologue
Classified Briefing
“There is no slavery but ignorance.”
– Robert Green Ingersoll
The explosion that propelled mankind forward into a new age, defined by
extraterrestrial contact, was initiated by one fateful, infamous, and highly controversial
accident – a crash, to be more specific – one that would forever shape Earth’s history, both
saving and dooming it…
Widely known as the Roswell crash, the 1947 incident was no hoax or staged event,
as many had come to believe. A genuine error on an alien crew’s part in relying on its
already damaged ship’s hull to withstand entering Earth’s protective atmosphere had cost
them their lives, if not immediately, then soon there afterwards. But their deaths would not
be in vain. A recovery of the craft and four bodies, followed quickly by a cover-up, sparked
one of the most monumental occurrences in modern times. The crash landing resulted in a
series of events that ultimately led to the aliens officially descending to Earth in 1953, for the
first time in recent history, to the country their ship had crashed on in order to introduce
themselves to those in power. This ended in a top secret treaty, known as the Greada
Treaty, between the United States government and the aliens they referred to simply as “the
Greys.” This treaty stated that, in exchange for allowing the Greys to abduct human beings
for their experiments and plans that were still, for the most part, unknown by the nation’s
leaders, and thereafter returning them unharmed, memories erased, they would provide the
United States government with superior technology.
During this period, the government established a team to keep the entire situation
under control and to study the crash debris. This group became known as the Majestic
Twelve, or MJ-12 for short, a secret committee of scientists, military leaders, and
government officials, formed in 1947. Various other groups were also established to keep a
“security lid” on all things related to extraterrestrials. No single group, other than the
Majestic Twelve, was permitted to know everything regarding the aliens. Each group was
only allowed to know the parts that the Majestic Twelve wanted them to know. One of
these groups was the National Security Agency, which was first created to protect the
secrets of all recovered flying discs and who later earned complete control over all
communications intelligence, allowing them to monitor any individual through mail,
telephone, computers, and personal communications as they chose. Because, by executive
order, the NSA was exempt from all laws that did not specifically name them in the text of
the law, they were essentially able to do whatever they wanted and without answering to
anyone – besides MJ-12 (who didn’t formally exist) – which allowed for such critical actions
to take place out of the public eye or knowledge. The NSA was then the main extension of
Majestic Twelve, their right hand when pertaining to the “flying saucer program.”
Originating from the Zeta Reticuli star system (thirty nine light-years, or twelve
parsecs, from Earth), the Greys had been keeping a watchful eye on Earth since its early
history, playing a more pivotal role in the evolutionary development of Homo sapiens than
most realized or could imagine. The Greys were responsible for human biological evolution
through manipulation of the DNA of already-evolving primates on planet Earth. Various
time intervals of the DNA manipulation were specified for around 25,000, 15,000, 5,000,
and 2,500 years ago. Intervening periodically to influence technology throughout the ages
and across all cultures, lending an intellectual spark to primitive civilizations, the Greys
eventually decided to take a metaphorical step back from their creations from time to time
to observe them developing on their own. It was only in more recent years that they began
to become involved once again, monitoring the planet from above, descending to Earth in
moderation and using a complicated method of cloaking to hide themselves from the naked
eye. It was during one of these descents in the late forties that a routine observation ship
was hit by space debris and then further damaged by the Earth’s atmosphere upon entering
it, lost control, and plummeted toward the earth, bringing on the many changes that would
erupt as a response.
The Greys, who were also known as Zetas or extraterrestrial biological entities (or
EBEs), came from the planet the US government named Reticulum 4, the fourth planet in
the Zeta 2 Reticuli solar system. Only standing between three and five feet tall, with four
fingers and three toes, they had large, round heads and equally large, black eyes, but with
small, almost nonexistent noses, and a slit for a mouth. Usually of varying gray-hued skin
tones (hence their name), the Greys had very thin bodies that appeared to be too skinny to
even logically hold up their heads. The iconic image of the Greys became well known in
pop culture, a method the government used to gently and slowly ease the public into the
familiarity and idea of alien beings.
After the initial arrangement that was made between the US government and the
alien Greys, massive underground facilities were constructed all around the country for and
with the help of the aliens. These developments were classified as civil engineering projects
as opposed to military ones, covered up and made to look like ordinary construction sites.
They were all made possible by giant tunnel boring machines. Also known as “moles” or
abbreviated as “TBMs,” tunnel boring machines were used to excavate tunnels with the
advantage of limiting the disturbance of the surrounding ground and producing smooth
tunnel walls. They were the rather expensive alternative to drilling and blasting.
Each underground facility utilized transport tubes to shuttle workers to and from
work. More than your average subway, these tube trains were technologically superior to
anything above ground. Levitating magnetically and thus making friction obsolete, these
maglev trains were capable of reaching speeds of nearly two thousand miles per hour, or
mach three. Within a matter of a few decades, these underground bases filled the entire
country, and soon the vast number of tube shuttle connections extended to a global system
of tunnels, reaching underground bases in other countries. This worldwide network was
called the Sub-Global System, with checkpoints at each country’s entrance. Several
underground and underwater facilities had been established to support top secret activities
and to provide suitable habitats and covert environments for the aliens involved.
One of the most notorious of these bases was located in Dulce, New Mexico and
known to its employees as the Rio Arriba Scientific and Technological Underground
Auxiliary, or RIO-AUX for short, and Rio Arriba being the name of the county. The Dulce
base was jointly operated by humans and aliens and was a clandestine organization within
the United States government which was staffed primarily by individuals recruited and
trained by other elements of the federal government. Funded and supported by the National
Security Agency and also augmented by very tightly compartmentalized elements of the
armed forces, such as the Delta Force unit of the Department of the Navy, along with other
governmental organizations, it was the biggest deep underground military base in the world,
both in size and in significance.
Its existence was known only by an extremely limited number of individuals and its
actual mission was known by an even smaller number. RIO-AUX’s purpose was to direct
and control extraordinarily unique activities in relation to extraterrestrial biological entities
and alien technologies with the primary missions of combating alien operations which were
hostile to the national security of the United States, gathering and exploiting alien
technologies, and the containment of premature disclosure of information regarding the
presence and intentions of the EBEs.
Boasting ten levels total, the Rio Arriba base was nothing if not extraordinary
unique. The elevators throughout the base were controlled magnetically rather than with
cables. There were no elevators that went down any further than a single level for security
purposes. After the third sublevel, workers would need to change elevators completely.
Each elevator was round with two smaller oval compartments on each side. Magnets
served many purposes throughout the base, including as a form of illumination as
phosphorous lights, which were closer to natural sunlight. Most signs on the doors and
hallways were in an alien symbol language with English printed beneath. Each base around
the country had its own unique emblem representing them that every employee had stitched
on their uniforms. Dulce’s insignia represented Delta, the forth letter of the Greek alphabet
and the elite unit of special operations force and security for all alien-related projects. It was
represented by an upside down or inverted black triangle with a “T,” the Greek letter
“Tau,” superimposed in it on a red circular patch.
On the surface of the Archuleta Mesa in Dulce, directly above where the base was
located, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Ventilation into the subterranean base was
made possible by meticulously-hidden shafts that were placed in areas around the Mesa
most people never ventured. Hundreds of cameras allowed security teams inside the base to
receive live video feeds both aboveground and inside the base itself to monitor all activity.
Heat sensors, motion detectors, radar, infrared, and satellites also prevented unwelcome
guests from venturing too close to the base. Additionally, security personnel were always
on duty, keeping a watchful eye above RIO-AUX in their black vehicles and helicopters and
immediately driving or flying to intercept anyone getting too close.
Level one of the Rio Arriba Scientific and Technological Underground Auxiliary
contained the parking garage, street maintenance, security, and communications. All
vehicles in the Dulce facility were stored there. No one was able to drive in or out without
seeing security. On the roads leading to the garage there were magnetic sensors.
Level two contained the garage for trains, shuttles, and tunnel-boring machines. The
tunnel systems led to more underground alien bases around the country (and eventually out
of country). This level also had staff housing for human employees that lived solely at the
base or who chose to stay for an extended period of time.
Level three served as the major control area where most of the computers were
centered and where the whole based was controlled. Known as the Hub, it also had all the
executive offices and a few laboratories.
Level four was where mind control and other related experiments, such as telepathy,
hypnosis, and even those involving dreams took place. This was also where the alienhuman hybrids were kept in individual cells, known as units. Most of their lives were spent
on this floor of the base, which, as a result, had the cafeteria for the hybrids and human
employees, and a gymnasium for exercise. Specialized classrooms also were spread
throughout this floor for them to study both typical and non-typical subjects designed for
their educational level, which was far more advanced than the typical grade level they’d be
at for their age, due to their mental capacity and ability to retain information.
Level five had housing for two non-humans species – the extraterrestrial Greys and
an ancient earthly species that was often confused with being alien. They had their own
cafeteria on this level for specially formulated foods and nourishments that were prepared
for them by other extraterrestrials. This floor was strictly off limits to most humans unless
they possessed a very high security clearance. Levels five and down were under the control
of the alien Greys, and humans were second in command. Hybrids, who were for the most
part under the control of the humans, very rarely were allowed access to this level (probably
because the humans did not like the idea of the hybrids being outside their reach). The
aliens though didn’t seem to have a problem with admitting the hybrids access to this floor.
Level six, privately called “Nightmare Hall” or the “zoo,” was where genetic
experiments and cloning took place. It held genetic laboratories where tests were done on
humans and a variety of animals that were vastly altered from their original forms. Human
workers were often reminded by intercom to never speak with the inmates there, who were
claimed to be insane, as it could destroy years of work. These inmates were all missing
people in the world aboveground.
Level seven’s purpose was for cryogenics and housed cold storage vats. There were
rows of thousands of humans, human-mixture remains, and embryos of humanoids kept in
cold storage. Alien workers here also formulated meals for their species. Some of the
biological combinations of humans and animal vital fluids were consumed as nourishment
for the alien Greys by absorption through their skin.
Levels eight through ten were almost completely unheard of and largely unknown to
the majority of the workers at the base besides the EBEs and the underground terrestrial
species. Only those with the highest of security authorization were permitted to not only
visit these levels but to be aware of their existence. The most unbelievable and unspeakable
things took place there. They performed adventurous research for medical, mental, and
technological gains that would otherwise be considered unethical and too risky on the
surface. The lowest level of the base was said to store the most radical of technologies, most
alien derived.
In addition to the Greys, there was another humanoid species that operated at most
underground military bases, a species that dated back to the early days of planet Earth.
They were not extraterrestrials, but rather intraterrestrials. They were known by humans as
the Draco. They considered themselves the true Earthlings and viewed humanity as recent
guests on their planet, since they were the original sentient species to evolve on Earth.
Descendants of the dinosaurs, the Draco fled underground to a place known as Hollow
Earth to escape much of the harsh environments throughout Earth’s history, where they
lived till present day.
The Hollow Earth in which the Draco resided was as large as the entire planet and
was encompassed by a planetary wall and heated by a central sun. The biggest and most
legendary city in the Hollow Earth was a place called Agartha, which was a land so
advanced, the human cities above ground could not hope to compete with their technology.
In recent history, human governments formed loose alliances with the Draco and
began working with the reptile-like bipeds in secret, out of the public’s eye. Very rarely
would the Draco venture above ground, since they feared humans, but those that did that
were seen were often times mistaken as cryptid creatures known as Mothmen and the
Olitiau.
There were considered to be four different Draco races in existence. All the races
though had scales that covered their bodies, four fingers and three toes, with a recessed
fourth toe toward the backside of their ankle, and large mouths with prominent sharp teeth.
Their heads were slightly conical-shaped with two bony ridges from their brows sloping
toward the backs of their heads. They had flattened noses with two upward-slanting slits for
nasal openings, and multifaceted eyes, each facet with its own independent protective lid.
Rather than shutting their eyes as humans do, sections of the organ instead shut down in
conjunction with the dominant light source present.
The first race, which was known simply as the Draco was the most common. Draco
had a set of leathery wings protruding from their backs which they commonly carried in a
retracted position, stood between seven to nine feet tall, and usually had either brown- or
green-colored scales that covered their bodies with different types of patterns. Athletically
built, their upper torsos were extremely lean, and they had long tails that helped to give
them balance and direction in flight.
The Draco Prime were, technically speaking, also Draco, but because of their high
stature in Draco society, they were viewed as a separate race entirely. The Draco Prime had
very luminescent white, powdery scales, but beyond their coloring, there were no other
differences between the Draco Prime and ordinary Draco. In truth, the Draco Prime were
albinos of the species, but the albino gene was more common in Draco than in humans, so
for every five hundred or so Draco hatched, one Draco Prime would also. The Draco were
submissive and highly respectful toward the Draco Prime, as these white Draco acted as the
ruling caste in their hierarchy.
The other two races were very small in number and were viewed as SubDraco, or
less than Draco. Many of these two races were kept in confinement for examination and
testing or were forced into doing manual labor, and all resided underground, never to see
the light of day. On the rare off-chance that one of these two SubDraco species was white,
like the Draco Prime, it would be destroyed immediately, viewed as a mockery of the ruling
caste.
The third race was referred to as Reptoids (or reptile humanoids). They were a
crossbreed between humans and Draco. Because of this, they were tailless and wingless,
and only stood between six to seven feet tall (which was considered short among Draco).
They had firm bodies with powerful arms and legs. For the most part, humans were forced
to interbreed with the Draco for a number of studies and experiments, though in some rare
cases, they were said to have mated willingly, finding affection for one another.
The fourth race was a crossbreed between the Grey aliens and Draco, and they were
known simply as Reptilians (or reptile aliens). Also wingless and tailless, they stood
between four to five feet tall (the shortest of the species) and had large craniums, much like
the Greys, along with short claws and a hint of gray to their green or brown scales. This
race also came into existence when both the Greys and the Draco were curious about the
combination and the outcome of such a genetic union.
The Draco, who were discovered not long after contact was made with the Greys,
already had subterranean caverns constructed, which acted as their homes, and many of the
underground military bases became simply an extension of those. However, the majority of
the Draco cities were located extremely deep inside the Earth’s crust and were massive,
large enough for flight amongst the species to take place. Their homes and buildings were
carved out of rocks, which could extend for miles and be as large as human cities
aboveground. The Draco didn’t typically trust humans, and so the partnership they later
adapted to with human governments was in large part influenced by the Greys, who the
Draco viewed as closer to equals and had more respect for. Normally making up the
workers in underground bases, the Draco were known for their physical strength and ability
to carry out orders without question (at least from the Draco Prime).
Unable to produce desirable hybrids with the Draco, the Greys found that their
crossbreeds were more unstable, both in physical health and in the abilities the hybrids
inherited from the Greys. Many Reptilians/hybrids lacked any sort of mental capabilities at
all, and because the Draco were a less emotional species than humans, those that did have
some powers had little ambition or enthusiasm when it came to using them. Several
Reptilians also had untimely deaths for a number of varying health reasons. While these
hybrids were of great interest to the Greys from a scientific standpoint, it became evident
that the answer to their genetic puzzle the Greys had been looking for would not be found
with these underground dwellers of Earth.
Strict protocol had been enforced for the human employees when working with
aliens in the underground bases. Unable to speak freely under normal circumstances, the
human workers even had to obey a set of rules when needing to address an extraterrestrial,
so as not to cause any interspecies misunderstandings that could unintentionally lead to
more serious consequences. Most of the time, humans and aliens simply worked on their
own, rarely interfering in one another’s business. A casual conversation between species
was mostly unheard of aside from it occurring among those of high importance or in the
labs and computer bank sections. The free speech had to cease though the minute they
crossed the threshold of the hall outside those areas, and communication returned to strictly
formal and business-related.
Human employees, upon being hired at all the underground bases, were required to
take an oath, under the penalty of death, that no matter what they heard or saw, they were
to never divulge any information to anyone. They also needed to sign a waiver that stated
they would willingly give up their lives if found guilty of treason. Treason was defined as
anything that mentioned the details of the daily operations at the facility when outside the
confinement of the base. A need-to-know policy was also firmly enforced, and as such,
many employees, for security purposes, only knew what was necessary to carry out their
jobs.
RIO-AUX, along with many other deep under military bases, had made deals with
the Grey aliens, and though this would seem to contradict their interest in defending
National Security from malevolent aliens species, initially the decision of the Majestic
Twelve to establish contact with the Greys was, in fact, partly motivated by National
Security concerns – for instance, the desire for advanced weapons. Many intelligence
agencies were attempting to do to the Greys what they have done to other cultures,
including their own – to use the treaties as a weapon against the Greys to infiltrate their
operational structure and find out their weaknesses while exploiting their technology at the
same time. The Greys, however, chose to play their hand and match wits with the
intelligence agencies of planet Earth – whose cunning and expertise in manipulation were
notorious. These agencies therefore were playing a high-risk game. While reaching one
hand out in feigned friendship towards the EBEs, the other hand was busy developing
technological weaponry with the hope of potentially exploiting, conquering, or destroying
them in case they or any other alien species should turn against humanity. Ironically
enough, it was the Greys that were already one step ahead of them on that.
Unaccustomed to bargains and even, for many centuries, government itself (as they
ruled their planet by organizational anarchy) the Grey aliens began to slowly alter the treaty
they made with the US government to their advantage…which ultimately, and
unbeknownst to the humans, would be for the best for mankind. Having originally agreed
to document all those that they abducted and to provide the US government with that list of
abductees, the aliens gradually started taking many more people (in the thousands) than
were listed on the official abduction list being supplied to the NSA and Majestic Twelve,
many of these people permanently going missing. The government soon found out about
this violation of their treaty, but was helpless to do anything, lest they start an underground
war. Not only this, but the EBEs’ intentions went beyond simple monitoring and studying
of Homo sapiens.
The ultimate end goal of the Greys was to produce perfect hybrids, creating a
combination of human genetic material and their own DNA. They had mastered the art of
cloning a few millennia ago, as they themselves were a dying species, no longer capable of
reproducing naturally, consequently having to rely on cloning technology to keep their
generations alive. They even had technology that enabled them to insert memory patterns
and information into the new clones, allowing them to keep their knowledge and memories.
However, with each successful clone, their species grew weaker, their genetic sequence
degrading, thus leading them to rely on human DNA to repair and add sequences to the
genetic gene pool.
Their mission wasn’t entirely self-serving though. Their genetic engineering and
manipulation practices weren’t solely to ensure their species’ survival, but also as a means to
primarily create a particularly hardy and elite hybrid species, which would initially be
capable of serving as the best form of defense against hostile alien invasions and thereafter
form the leading elements of Grey and human society. The EBEs conducted extensive
surveillance and monitoring of individuals who were both knowingly and unknowingly part
of this on-going program. This new hybrid species, the Human-Grey, would be able to
survive destructive ecological changes that the Greys believed would take place on Earth in
the near future. Possessing something known as hybrid vigor, they would have all the
strengths of both species and almost none of their weaknesses. It was a perfect idea in
theory. Generating those ideal results though was another matter, and one that was
thousands of years in the making.
Each modern-day hybrid, or rather those that were born within the past couple of
decades, was chosen because hybridization had already been integrated into their ancestry.
In other words, every new-generation hybrid, as they were called, had a bit of
extraterrestrial DNA already in them from aliens crossbreeding with their ancestors.
Because of this, and because of the many years of conscientiously visiting Earth to breed at
just the right intervals in these families, new-gen hybrids had the exact right amount of alien
genes and human genes, the ultimate combination of both. Additionally, these new-gen
hybrids also differed from the older ones in that they always appeared to look physically
human and possessed completely human organs, bone structures, nervous systems, and
digestive systems – all things that old-generation hybrids, lacked in varying degrees.
The true insight into the hybrid’s alien background could be revealed in their blood
cells and in their brain. The neurotransmitters in the cerebral cortex were what mainly
controlled both the alien Greys’ and the hybrid’s mental powers, and as such, these abilities
could be suppressed partially or wholly through the use of an inhibiting serum or
psychoactive drugs that slowed or inhibited mental processes, something the workers at
RIO-AUX and other underground military bases often used as a means of control.
Although not a very emotional species anymore after their evolution reduced such
psychophysiological experiences in the brain and nearly incapable of holding attachments to
other beings, the Greys were, in every sense of the word, scientists – completely impartial
and free from bias because of their near inability to care, and with limitless curiosity and a
desire to gain knowledge and solve complex problems. It was these traits that led them to
their aspiration to formulate a solution to the threat of off-worlder attacks. A highly
analytical and technologically-oriented species, the Greys were intensely into computing
and bioengineering sciences, which, from a human standpoint, led them to doing reckless
experiments without regard for ethics or empathetic conduct toward other living creatures.
It was through their lack of emotions though that they were able to advance so far in terms
of technology, but was also their greatest downfall as a race, leaving them without the
passion and the drive that humans were so greatly known for. The Greys were their own
destroyers, but they would have the chance to redeem themselves in the end by their last
and greatest endeavor – to create the perfect hybrids, the perfect species.
Author’s Note: The majority of this chapter is based on supposed truth and facts, and it lays the foundation for this work of
fiction. See the end of the book for sources, and discover the truth for yourself.
One
Dawn
“There was no ‘before’ the beginning of our universe, because,
once upon a time, there was no time.”
– John D. Barrow
13 YEARS AGO – 2017 CE
RIO ARIBA SCIENTIFIC AND TECHNOLOGICAL UNDERGROUND AUXILIARY
DULCE, NM
“What do you do with a box?” The question comes not audibly, but mentally.
Rotating ever so slowly in the center of a small, stark, white-walled room, void of
anything minus myself, the being before me, and the object between us, floats a black,
hollow cube. A rather nondescript and unremarkable object, it is sleek and shiny, without
any sort of markings.
It is my first memory. I am five, and in addition to the task at hand, I recall the
perfectly white-tiled floor, which is cold to sit on, and the lingering chemical odor of what I
later learn to be ammonia cleaning solution. Furthermore, my empty stomach, which
grumbles for breakfast that will surely come after this training exercise, keeps me distracted.
After a minute or so goes by, a loud buzzing noise is emitted through an unseen
speaker, piercing through the still silence of the room like a knife. It’s enough to stir the
toddler version of myself to attention and remind me to stay focused. An irritating
mechanism utilized by the people observing us from the other side of the long, rectangular
“mirror” on the wall, this obtrusive and impatient act is not something the creature sitting
across from me would ever rely on. It is because of this and countless other reasons that I
trust this near-human being, this alien more than any of the adults of my own species.
Taking a deep breath and unsuccessfully trying to set aside my physical needs, I meet
the ever-inquisitive gaze of the wide-eyed being in front of me that stands only about a foot
taller than me. Those large, completely black, glistening, almond-shaped eyes set me at
ease, being more familiar to me than many human eyes. They are evaluative, alert, and
despite being endless black abysses, not unlike the darkness of space itself sparkling with
stars of light, these eyes are somehow also reassuring and pleasant. The creature’s face is
blank and expressionless, but, even though I don’t understand how, I feel a vague hint of
intrigue radiating from the small extraterrestrial. It’s a strange sensation, feeling the
emotions of others, not something I’m ever able to put into words, and at this point in my
life, I scarcely even know it’s a rare characteristic.
Finally, I reply in my tiny voice, “What do you want me to do with the box?” It
comes out sounding arrogant and challenging, but the being before me knows I did not
mean it as such. The gray-skinned, thin creature tilts its head ever so slightly to the side,
regarding me silently for many long moments.
Growing irritated and short-tempered myself, just as the people silently watching me
seem to be, I do nothing to hide the displeasure and anxious look on my face, nor am I
really familiar with attempting such a thing at my young age. Every emotion and feeling I
have is easily readable on my face and in my body language. However, I hold my tongue
from voicing my frustration, which in itself speaks volumes of my maturity, I think.
Deciding I’m not going to get any answers from anyone other than myself, I turn my
attention to the floating black cube before us. Is it physically there in reality, or is it some
sort of hologram or perhaps even a mental illusion generated by the alien? Expanding my
awareness, I am able to sense its physical mass without even needing to reach out and touch
it with my hand. As if he knows just what I manage to deduce, the alien’s gaze shifts for a
fleeting moment to the one-way glass on the opposite end of the room before returning to
rest on me once more. Such a diminutive gesture might have gone unnoticed had it been a
person, but I have already learned such apparently trivial details always seem to hold some
significance with his kind. Whether it was in reaction to a desired response or not, I have
no way of knowing, for the alien now is stoic and motionless.
It seems silly, even to an adolescent, that a plain, uninteresting box should be such a
heavy focus of mine for today’s lesson. Though my daily training sessions and exercises
aren’t by any means strenuous or overly exhilarating, especially the ones I am asked to do at
this age, they usually consist of doing more with my inborn talents than simply trying to
decipher what to do with a cube. Then the realization of this strikes me. So simple,
innocent, and untainted is a child’s mind. So straightforward. I am, as the alien no doubt
knows I can, able to see past the black box, at least in the literal sense, and interpret it for
what it truly represents.
Growing more optimistic and determined now that I at least had that much figured
out, I begin opening my mind to all the possibilities. This clearly is a test of my critical
thinking skills and intellect as opposed to ones involving my alien-given skills. Noticing my
resolve, the alien dips his head into the human equivalent of a nod, which I take as my first
bit of encouragement.
In this situation, the box is the problem, and though the answer to the problem is not
so simple, it is well within my grasp. Firstly, I need to understand the box, the problem.
What is it? What does it consist of? I begin imagining the box as different things. If the
box was a person, to truly understand them, it would be most beneficial to learn and
recognize their minds, their ways of thinking, their true inner selves, rather than simply
observing them, as I am this box. If the box was a place, such as a person’s home, I would
need to know as much as I could about it before coming to any conclusions about its
structure and solidness, its security and its value. This would require me to know it both
inside and out, top to bottom. If the box happened to be something like a book, I would of
course need to read the whole book in order to accurately and effectively answer any
questions about it, rather than merely, as the old saying goes (or so I’ve heard), judging it by
its cover.
Beginning to formulate an answer to the alien’s question in my head, I start to feel a
warm, tingling sensation in the back of my mind, alerting me to the accurateness of my
developing response. Though I receive no further irksome buzzes over the intercom from
the human scientists, I can somehow feel their eagerness weighing in on me, an oppressive
feeling and a sharp, resolute desire, not unlike a demand. I know, whatever my answer, it
will be my own people judging me more harshly than the thin, gray-skinned alien sitting in
front of me. Where the humans critique and scrutinize, the aliens observe, study, and learn.
Recognizing this, I have to smile inwardly. It has been the humans’ intrusive nature
that only now reminds me how to properly respond in a way that would not only impress
this alien, but also irritate the scientists in that they would be unable to hear my reply or
sense any changes in the room whatsoever.
Several minutes have passed since the question was initially asked. The alien knows
better than to ask it again though, completely aware that I have been puzzling it out all
along. At last, I lock eyes with the creature not of this world and confidently answer him.
“You turn it inside out…with your mind.” I say this not out loud, but through telepathy,
and the minor irony of that didn’t escape even me.
Suddenly, as if acting of its own accord, the levitating cube between us begins to
unfold itself, still rotating clockwise as each panel flattens, so that, completely spread out, it
resembled a lower-case “t.” Each panel reveals that every side on the inside of the box is a
different color, making six colors total. I soak this all in for a minute, and then the flattened
cube begins to reassemble itself, but this time inside out, so that when it is complete, it is no
longer a black box, but rather a colorful one, showcasing the hidden truth that had been
concealed inside the box all along and thus providing a basic and easy-to-comprehend
representation of the lesson learned.
Mesmerized for a instant, the alien catches my eye after lowering the cube to the
floor, signifying the end of the morning’s test. “Your answer meets expectations.” He projects
his words to my mind slowly, tranquilly, and almost soothingly. “You have completed your
morning assessment and are now free to go.” He pauses momentarily, perhaps contemplating
what he is about to say next, then adds, “You are among some of our most promising pupils. We
are very pleased with you and are looking forward to overseeing your continued development, young
Era.”
*
8 YEARS AGO – 2022 CE
I don't make a habit of entertaining notions of fulfilling plans that are, at best,
improbable, and therefore I don’t all that often fantasize about ever escaping my situation.
Though essentially being kept as a prisoner, it is all I have ever known, and my "prison"
provides me with all the necessities and, in a few cases, more. The subterranean base that I
call home is as much a playground (at least by my standards) as it is a school and learning
environment, and despite being kept carefully behind locked doors and ushered around by
armed guards without being able to have any say in the matter, the orderly fashion of it all
provides stability. Things are always reassuringly the same, maintaining a routine of sorts,
and there is, at least to some degree, some comfort in that. To a ten-year-old with an IQ
that can rival most adults, thank you very much, it still isn’t quite out of the question yet to
stop clinging to such childhood needs, after all.
Sitting in the oversized contemporary cafeteria with my peers, I finish up eating my
turkey sandwich while I casually take note of all the security guards present. On this
particular day, not so different than any other, I really wonder for the first time about the
abundance of security they have around us at all times, standing near every door and exit.
It’s something I and others like me that grew up here have always known, and therefore it
has always seemed ordinary and expected. It crosses my mind though that there must be an
enormous reason for such an installation to employ such a large security team in addition to
having state-of-the-art surveillance and security measures already installed throughout the
place. Unfamiliar with the outside world for the most part, I wonder if there are as many
guards above ground as there are here. I think back to the videos and movies we have been
allowed to see and how the outside is portrayed in them, and I dismiss the thought of so
many guards outside almost instantly. Of course there aren’t.
Regardless of what I do have, I admittedly find myself wondering about the outside
world, which I have only learned about from the books and movies we were carefully
provided with. Curiosity and the desire to gain knowledge are, after all, inherent in me.
Any attempts to break out of the deep subterranean structure I have known my whole life
though, as I clearly can see now both in the number of guards and the determination I feel
in them, would be instantly followed by failure (and no doubt a severe punishment).
I do not consider myself a needy person, even at just ten years old, and I am
anything but spoiled or coddled, as no one here can claim such a thing. However,
something that will forever be a brightly-burning desire in me is the longing to see and
experience the world above for myself, to breathe in fresh air rather than recycled, to swim
in an ocean or trudge around through white, soft snow. I have never seen any animals in
person, except for what I later learned was a whiptail lizard that had somehow managed to
wander into the base not long ago, and that had only been a glimpse, as it was so
exceptionally fast. I have never felt real rain come down from the sky nor even seen the sky
itself or experienced the sensations of blistering summer heat or frigid winters. No matter
what is offered here to us in this home that isn’t a home, this prison that isn’t a prison, no
one could ever fully introduce us to everything the world has to offer, so long as we are kept
hidden underground. Although they try.
The walls and ceiling in the mess hall craftily and deceitfully play different nature
scenes, almost like giant television screens, by means of advanced and expensive
technology. Each day has a different theme for what images are displayed, from a jungle
scene, to scenic mountains, to the ocean and the desert. Air blowers set high on the walls
provide intermittent breezes that come as close to the feeling of wind that can be artificially
reproduced. A sophisticated sound system has even been installed with hidden speakers
throughout the whole room which provide soft background noise that matches the videos
being displayed, like that of bugs, flowing water, singing birds, dolphin and whale songs, the
gusty wind, and other nature sounds. Altogether, it is rather liberating to all us who have
never had the opportunity to see the outside world for ourselves, and being that the cafeteria
is a place we visit three times a day, it doubtless doubles as a means to lull us all into
passivity.
My friends and I though are anything but passive, at least not while we are together.
Social interactions are kept to a minimum at the underground base. Those like
myself, that are biologically part alien even have to obey a number of strict rules. Breakfast,
lunch, and dinner are always an hour long, and it is during those three hours out of the day
that we truly get to be at ease to chat and intermingle with one another. On Sundays, us
alien-human hybrids are allowed two hours of physical activity, during which we all gather
in a large, oval gymnasium and are instructed on our regime for the day. It ranges from
walking, jogging, swimming, to weight lifting, playing various sports like baseball,
basketball, and soccer, or occasionally playing games that are intended to raise moral and
give us a boost of motivation to carry on with our demanding and tiring order-filled lives.
There are over a hundred of us new-age hybrids that reside on the forth sublevel of
the base, and the cafeteria is large enough to fit us all at once along with all the human
employees, making for a rather loud and conversational eating experience. We cherish
these times together and try to make the most of them.
Regardless of our eagerness to talk and catch up and see how we did on our latest
exams or what new trick we can do with our powers now, our table is usually one of the
more quiet ones, since it’s made up of mostly girls who cause less of a ruckus than the tables
filled with more boys. That is one freedom allowed to us – the privilege to choose where we
sit for our meals. That, and the ability to speak freely here has made meal times everyone’s
most favorite part of the day.
“Are you going to eat that?” The question, which is directed at me, comes from the
dark-haired girl sitting across from me. She’s pointing at my mixed vegetables and has her
head titled to the side inquisitively, with her eyebrows raised in over exaggerated hope.
I give my long-time friend a smile as I scoop my now-mushy peas, carrots, and green
beans over into her plate. “It’s all yours.” Taryn Miro has always been the healthy eater,
even though we’re just kids and not supposed to worry about what we stuff our faces with.
At least, that’s the alibi I use as I fill up on the rest of my apple cobbler.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks suddenly, looking vaguely interested before her
eyes seem to focus elsewhere. I feel her growing somewhat distant for an instant as she
becomes distracted when a boy walks by.
“What do you mean?” I ask, though I already know that she must have been picking
up on my fleeting desire to escape. Taryn’s a master at reading emotions, and because of
this, I know too that I’ll be unable to avoid completely fooling her, so I don’t even try. “I
was just thinking about this place and about, I don’t know…our futures. How we’ll never
know what the outside world is like for ourselves.”
Taryn drops whatever brief thought had made its way into her head as she returns
her full attention on to me sympathetically. “I knew I got this hopeless feeling from you.”
“Don’t worry about it. Really. I was just letting my mind wander. Anyway, I was
reading something from you too,” I say, having picked up on it using my own powers.
“Was that a hint of…affection? And embarrassment that I felt from you just now as Myles
walked by?” Somewhat of expert at redirection, I shoot her a look that says ‘Fess up,’
before I let my eyes dart noticeably over to a fiery red haired boy now sitting at the adjacent
table.
Completely seeming to forget what we had just been talking about, Taryn, who bites
her bottom lip characteristically when feeling awkward, turns to face the opposite direction
of the boy and shields her reddening face before giving me a mortified look.
I begin to laugh, confident that the redhead named Myles hadn’t heard me mention
his name at all and therefore finding it humorous that Taryn managed to get so worked up
over it. Before either of us know it, we both erupt into giggles. She whacks me goodnaturedly before finally returning to finish up her vegetables and mumbling something about
how boys are gross and have ‘cooties,’ – whatever that could be.
With jet-black short, straight hair and normally serene hazel eyes that almost always
appear gray, Taryn is quite the opposite of me in more ways than just our hair color – mine
being light blonde. Taryn never lets her guard down around strangers or even those she
isn’t close to. Most of our classmates think she’s distant or unsocial or just plain strange. I
was lucky enough to get to know the true Taryn though, and she opens up to me unlike
anyone else. I’ve always felt that I can be myself with her as well, even though I’m much
more extroverted and don’t have a problem speaking my mind to anyone. Well, almost
anyone. It is our differences though that seemed to have attracted us to one another from
an early age, and we have been inseparable best friends ever since.
“Well, I just knew it,” I declare, leaning in conspiratorially so that the two of us can
whisper without being overheard by the others present at the long, lunchroom-style table. “I
knew you thought Myles was cute. Tell me everything!”
Just then, and much to Taryn’s relief, the bell rings, and just as normal kids in school
are expected to get up and head to whichever class awaits them next, so too are we. I know
Taryn can feel the irritation that is no doubt radiating off me now at being interrupted just
when I was about to hear some juicy details, considering Taryn has never admitted to
having any crushes before. As such, I expect my friend to know that she isn’t off the hook
just because lunchtime is over.
The entire mess hall falls silent after the bell. Both employees and children alike
cease all conversations, and like obedient drones, we file out in an orderly fashion. Our
table is next to rise, so I have just stood up and am about to fall in line when something
catches my attention. A thought that is not my own invades my mind, one that isn’t
altogether unpleasant but which leaves me with a pit in my gut. I can’t read the thought for
some reason, perhaps because I just can’t place the direction in which it’s coming from. But
someone is thinking very hard about me. I feel them in my mind, almost like that feeling
you sometimes get when you just know someone is watching you. Taryn isn’t picking this
up though, and so she doesn’t know why I’m suddenly worried, but she does manage to
shoot me a confused look, and all I can do is shake my head. They’re coming for me.
Something is going to happen.
“Era Skies,” comes a strong yet feminine voice. I recognize it almost immediately,
and before I can turn to see who has said my name, I understand I am going to be doing
something special today.
A woman, who can’t be much older than in her mid thirties, approaches me wearing
her fair hair in a tight bun and sporting bright red square-framed glasses and equipped with
a clipboard and some type of book that I can’t quite make out cradled in one arm. She
wears a white lab coat with an inverted triangle insignia on its breast pocket that is
characteristic of all the workers here. This woman is a medical doctor at the base, one that
has worked with me many times before. I have always thought of her as being kind and
pleasant, though now that I think of it, she hasn’t really given me any reason to think she’s
any different than any of the other stern, cold, and indifferent workers. Perhaps it is in the
lady’s voice or her expressions. When I meet her gaze, all the woman says is, “Come with
me.”
I know by now that I’m in no place to argue or ask questions whenever I’m told what
to do. Frightening things happen to those who disagree or act up. Feeling Taryn’s eyes
burn the back of my head, I don’t dare turn around to lock eyes with my friend, but instead I
take in a deep breath and exhale, hoping to emit a sensation of calmness and reassurance
back to my friend.
Keeping pace with the tall and enigmatic lady, I feel almost that I must be watchful
and to take note of where she leads us. Leaving the cafeteria, we take a different corridor
than I am used to and emerge down a hallway that I’ve rarely traveled. Searching the
woman’s thoughts, I try to catch a glance of her intentions or the reasoning behind being
singled out and escorted a different way than the others. Instead of finding any answers
though, I find in its place a sharp yet short burst of pain in my head, not unlike a headache,
which dissipates as soon as I stop trying to probe the woman’s thoughts. It seems curious,
since I have only felt such a thing once before, and that was when I was given a specific
kind of psychoactive drug for some sort of testing purposes, which then had been forced into
my mouth and that I was made to swallow. I touch my lips absentmindedly at the thought,
frowning.
“Don’t worry,” says the woman, who had apparently been watching me out of the
corner of her eye, rightly guessing my thoughts without even needing superhuman powers.
“There’s only so much they’ll permit you learning from me, and that amount I’ll be sharing
with you shortly. I have a great deal of information locked in here,” she explains, tapping
her head, “that even they don’t want me to access.”
I suddenly feel a pang of compassion for the woman whose name is Dr. Agnus.
Even though she works at this underground base like all the others, even she has rules.
Even she is one of their slaves. Such a comment might have gotten her in a lot of trouble,
had one of the Suits, as we call them, overhead. That small bit of information alone is
enough to leave me with a bad flavor in my mouth, opening up new understandings. Or
perhaps it’s all part of their game and they want me to know that everyone there is just a
pawn under their all-powerful control.
Then, it dawns on me. “But you’ve worked with me many times before. I’ve never
had problems reading you until now.” I pause here, for the doctor’s sake, trying to read her
expression and see if she is upset that I’ve invaded her mind in the past. Her face remains
blank, so I finish. “What’s changed?”
Pausing a moment just as we round another white-walled passage, Dr. Agnus sighs
and looks at me as she replies, “I have.” I study her, waiting for more of an explanation.
Finally, she says, “My mind’s like a honeycomb, filled with all kinds of secret rooms and
compartments, ones so deep that I can’t access the knowledge that’s there. They’re locked
away to keep me out. But recently I have discovered one of those…rooms, and turns out, I
did have the key to unlock some of that precious information, and now it’s with me
forever.” As she finishes, her gaze falls and she looks almost guilty.
Suddenly feeling sorry for the woman, I can only nod. I know now that the
physician has either been drugged repeatedly or given some type of cerebral implant to keep
her from her thoughts. A wave of dread, despair, and pity wash over me. How many other
employees are under the influence of something similar in order to be controlled?
Before I can consider the implications of what those in charge at the military base
might be able to do, we finally arrived at the end of a hall at a very non-descript door. It
seems to match every other door surrounding it, but the doctor stands facing it as if
somehow she knows the room beyond has what she needs in it.
Unlocking the solid metal door with a key card that has been issued to her, the
woman ushers me inside first and then follows, careful to close the door behind us, which
locks automatically in response.
Inside, the room is much larger than I had expected. It is perhaps the size of an
ordinary theater (at least, I imagine) with rows and rows of seating. On the far end of the
room is a large projection screen. Opposite it is a small, almost unnoticeable movie
projector on the wall. This room, like most in the underground facility, is completely white
and bare. No doubt though there are hidden speakers here just like in the cafeteria and the
rooms I am commonly tested in.
“Please, have a seat,” the woman instructs.
I don’t sit right away. I feel a bit nauseous at being so in the dark about what’s about
to happen. Even though I don’t think this woman would ever do anything to hurt me, I
can’t help suddenly feeling very scared and anxious. My instincts, even though I’ve been
instructed to try and suppress them, are screaming at me to run, to get away, to go where
I’m not so uncomfortable and can be with the others. The others like me.
“Dr. Agnus,” I say, hoping that using the woman’s name will take her off guard a
little and soften her up. “I can’t help but wonder… What will my instructor say when he
sees that I am not present in class? Am I to make it up in some way?”
Staring down at me, Dr. Agnus raises a brow. “You won’t be punished, if that’s
what you mean. I told you – don’t worry. This meeting with me has already been
scheduled. Your lesson for this afternoon is to take place with me now. Is that
understood?” I nod once and take a seat towards the back of the room. “Very good. Now
then. Let me turn your attention first to the projection screen. We will be watching a short
video.”
Feeling a tinge of apprehension but my curiosity running wild, I obey and glue my
eyes to the screen as the doctor sits next to me and presses a button on a remote in her hand
to dim the lights and start the film. What follows next, I will never forget.
The video is anything but what I could expect. Instead of being educational in the
typical sense, it is more enlightening in a different way. Although the great majority of the
details have obviously been left out, it explains part of one of the goals of the very
underground base I reside in, showing scenes of different rooms or labs or testing facilities
that I have never laid eyes on before, glimpses into only a tiny fraction of what the
subterranean base houses, reminding me of just how little I know of it. Much to my
surprise, I am the main element to one of their objectives here. From the mouths of the
workers, scientists, military leaders, and government officials, I learn just how special I am.
They show me, through diagrams, how I was made. This wasn’t any different than
others like me – hybrids. I had heard this all before from my instructors, but I watch
anxiously anyway, suddenly thirsty for knowledge, for more to the story than what we had
all been told.
A human from the world above is unknowingly selected and taken by the aliens I
know as the Greys. I, like everyone that works or lives as the base, am quite familiar with
their species. The human captive, at the mercy of the aliens, has their mental functions
slowed down so that they cannot refuse what is to happen and will also not be frightened.
Then, the alien will, through artificial insemination, impregnate the human. In most cases,
the human is female (since, as one of the doctors explains, female Greys seem to have a
difficult time carrying half-human babies successfully because of their smaller size), and she
is returned home following the abduction, usually with little to no memory of it taking
place. This chosen carrier will be monitored at all times, and if she or anyone else ever
threatens to endanger the fetus, the aliens will intervene. When it is ready to be born, the
baby will be taken from the mother forever, and she will be left only with confusion and a
sense of disillusionment. In some cases, the mothers quite frankly go mad, unable to
suitably distinguish fantasy from reality or grieve properly if they are able to remember. In
more rare cases, the mother of an unborn alien-human hybrid will be taken to live in the
underground military base until her pregnancy, after which she will be disposed of in a very
inhumane way.
In contrast to other crossbreeds though, as the scientists elaborate, I was born with a
genetic mutation, an anomaly that occurs so rarely, the last hybrid to have been born with it
existed over a hundred years ago, before humans even began working alongside what they
call extraterrestrial biological entities. Unlike that hybrid, I am “new-gen,” or rather, I have
a completely human anatomy. This irregularity in me was exactly what the human and
alien scientists had been trying so hard to achieve. It was an essential building block that
linked both my alien and human sides, granting me all the abilities of the Greys while still
retaining all my human qualities.
Other hybrids, as is apparent even to them, have what is known as a choice ability or
what we ourselves like to call a “Talent.” This Talent is a single alien ability that we are
born with and, right from the start, are able to utilize to its full potential. For example, in
Taryn’s case, she was born able to empathize with others and feel their emotions, giving her
a big upper hand in understanding those around her. It took no practice, no exercise. She
just has always had the ability to read feelings. All the other alien-related abilities though
(or those that the Greys all possess) are difficult for her to use and need to be practiced,
honed, and trained in order to be performed appropriately. I, on the other hand, as an older
man with a snow-white beard who identifies himself as the director of a certain dominant
agency says I might have already learned, am able to perfectly make use of all my powers
since birth. I wasn’t born with a single Talent. I am a master of them all.
Known as Project Rebirth, their objective was to not only create what they consider
to be near-flawless combinations of human-aliens, but also to produce one like me, one that
can harness all the alien powers while still being a new-generation hybrid, one that is equal
parts human and alien and that retains a human anatomy.
When the video ends and Dr. Agnus brightens the lights in the room, I am left with a
dryness in my mouth and my mind racing. I am special. I am, in fact, unique. True, I have
never discovered what my own choice ability was, as I have a hard time differentiating
between which alien-given skill I am better at, but perhaps naively, I have never attributed
that to simply being the best at them all. To learn that I am just as powerful as any Grey
and that I am the center of their focus for this Project Rebirth is a lot to take in for someone
so young, despite however gifted and advanced they may say we are.
Turning to face the woman sitting next to me, my one green and one blue eye, a
distinct feature of mine that is often hard to go unnoticed, meets the stone-cold sapphire
gaze of Dr. Agnus, who is studying me in solemn silence. She allows a few moments to
pass between us, but it is I who ends up speaking first in a matter-of-fact, almost bitter tone.
“You want me for something. That’s why you showed me this, so that I could better
understand what my purpose is.”
The slender woman chooses not to react right away under the pretense of now
cleaning her glasses purposefully. When she finally looks up, a smile appears on her face,
but one that sadly doesn’t meet her eyes. “Not me, personally,” she says defensively, “But
yes. They want you. They have plans for you that have not been made clear to me.”
Whether she is referring to the alien Greys of the human “Suits” in charge, I can only guess,
but I imagine that they both do. Then, taking me aback, Dr. Agnus puts a gentle hand on
my shoulder, a kind gesture I’m not very familiar with. “You’re a very special girl, Era.”
Feeling like I should disagree, I recoil slightly from the woman, something that, for a
brief moment, seems to upset her, but she recovers almost instantly, her face once again
turning expressionless, unreadable – something that she seems to have well practiced.
It’s then that I begin to wonder why the Suits in charge asked a medical doctor to
deliver this vital information to me, to even have been let in on this no-doubt top secret
agenda to begin with. Something about that doesn’t seem right.
“Not to be rude, but why are you the one explaining this to me?” I ask, unable to
help myself. My eyes narrow as I try to wrap my mind around everything. “Shouldn’t it be
one of the scientists in charge of this project sitting here instead?”
“You’re a very observant young woman,” she replies, now looking even more
somber, which for some reason makes me feel bad for asking. She takes a deep breath and
says slowly, “I am here simply because they asked me to be. And I enjoy our time
together.”
Although I can’t read her thoughts because of whatever it is they used to prevent me,
I still can feel bits of her emotions seep through, and what I’m able to pick up on is a
mixture of warmth and sorrow. “You’re a familiar face,” I then conclude puzzling it all out
while answering my own question, “someone who’s doctored me since I was a baby, caring
for me all these years. You’re the closest thing to a motherly figure I have.” At this, Dr.
Agnus’ eyes fall and I feel her become closed off. “They figured if anyone’s to convince me
of the destiny they have planned for me in order to get me to cooperate, it would be you.”
Disregarding these comments entirely, Dr. Agnus pulls out the big book she had
been carrying and lays it on my lap. The title reads Greek Mythology – Gods and Goddesses.
The doctor then flips open to a page she had bookmarked. My attention now on the book, I
can’t even guess, without the ability to mind read, what is coming next.
“I take it you studied Greek mythology already.” It isn’t a question, and so I don’t
feel the need to respond. The doctor already knows the other hybrids and I have learned
briefly about various human mythologies from one of our classes. “This book covers, in
some detail, the different gods and goddesses in Greek mythology.” The doctor peers over
at me expectantly. “I think you’ll find this goddess particularly interesting to you.”
Skimming the page and then turning my eyes to where the doctor has pointed, I read
the name Eos. The goddess of dawn, Eos it says opened the gates of heaven so that Helios,
her brother and the god of the sun, could ride his chariot across the sky each day. Her other
sibling, Selene, was the moon goddess, and after Helios finished his journey across the sky,
Selene began her own journey as night fell upon the earth, which then became lit from her
immortal radiance.
“I don’t understand,” I admit simply.
“Neither sun nor moon could take its place in the sky if it weren’t for Eos. The
goddess of dawn ushered in a new day.” She closes the book and gives me a meaningful
look. “Many of us here are given significant names. It is her that you are named after.”
Considering this for a moment, I wonder just how my name could be like that of
Eos, besides the fact that both our names start with the letter “E.” But then it occurs to me.
My full name is Era Origin Skies, a name given to me by whoever is the head of the
department that oversees the creation of hybrids. My initials spell out the name Eos.
Putting it all together now, I start to see the connection between the mythological book and
the video we had just watched.
“So, I am like the dawn… I’m to bring forth a new day.”
“Yes, Era.” Dr. Agnus nods proudly and yet still with a sense of sadness. “You’re
to bring about the future.”
Two
Void
“There is no greater evidence of superior intelligence than to be surprised
at nothing.”
– Josh Billings
PRESENT DAY – 2030 CE
The explosion that erupts seemingly out of nowhere surges through the specialized
classroom with such force, that all those present are blasted with the immediate shockwave
that follows, blowing out all the lights and leaving barely enough time for the students to
react quick enough to scream. The incredibly loud blast threatens to cause us all to go deaf.
However, in that very instant, both the smoke cloud that has appeared and the fiery
discharge begin to shrink and condense, astonishingly and immediately contained within a
concentrated sphere that hovers at the front of the room on the stage for all to witness. The
explosive energy that is carefully and skillfully focused in its own space pulsates with heat
and glowing flames.
For a moment, all is silent in the now-darkened room, aside from the ringing in my
ears and the squeaking of the hanging lights on the ceiling –most of which having been
shattered – that rock back and forth.
A visibly-stunned professor in a white lab coat stands on wobbly knees, clinging to
his modern-looking desk for support. His eyes are wide, and his pulse, like those of his
pupils’, is racing. All he seems to be able to mutter is, “How…?”
I stand at the front of the white-walled classroom, my innocent blonde hair and small
frame misleading, my face expressionless, save for my eyebrows, which are slightly raised to
take everything in. My eyes, the right a royal blue and the left an emerald green, glisten
with an otherworldly power and strength. The fiery, bubbling mass oscillates behind me,
and it is evident that I am the source of the explosion. Slowly, I turn to face the man in
charge of the class and briefly enlighten him, making certain to quickly eye the hole in the
wall where the electric school bell had once been.
“I didn’t do it,” I say with some degree of sincerity, which sounds rather comical.
Despite themselves, a few of the students begin chuckle. “Well,” I sidestep with a slight
smile, “I helped. But the main reason was simple chemistry.
“That was a magnetic explosion caused by a buildup of excessive magnetic pressure
in the electromagnet in the bell. All I had to do was increase the pressure…telekinetically,
of course,” I add, as if that is the answer he was looking for that explains everything.
“Brilliant…” I hear one of the other hybrids, a shaggy-haired blonde named Aksel,
whisper over the gurgling inferno that captivates them all.
Another man, who is also at the front of the room, is up on the stage opposite me.
He wears a gray jumpsuit with the standard upside down black triangle with a “T” inside it
on a red insignia on his breast pocket. Although his stony face remains blank and
unresponsively professional, he has fallen on the floor from the initial blast and is slowly
working on standing back up in what looks to be reluctance.
I can hear his quickened breathing pace, can see the beads of sweat running down his
forehead, and still I advance on him, the large, blazing ball of captive energy following close
behind me. The stage at the front of the room overlooking all the desks where my peers sit
and watch is roughly twenty feet long, and it takes me only seconds to reach the gray-suited
man, who now bravely stands facing me. Once I meet him, my gaze finds his and I stop
dead in my tracks, motionless, ours eyes locked. Because of the speed at what happens
next, not a single person has time to react. Not even him.
Without so much as a word or even any sign from me whatsoever, the controlled
explosion directs itself at my victim like an obedient living creature, and with ease, rains
forward straight down on him.
SIX HOURS EARLIER
“Don’t worry – I’ll go easy on you,” I say with feigned sweetness.
“Oh no you won’t,” replies a tall, gangly, brown-haired boy in his easily-identifiable
nasally voice. He holds both his arms out at his side and opens up his stance. “Give me all
you’ve got!”
We’re standing in a massive training room with padded mats for flooring which they
also have lining the walls. At a great distance towards the back of the room stand combat
grappling dummies that hang from a chain like punching bags. They’re made of some kind
of extra durable material that can take quite a beating, and they even can, through the use of
the nanobots that reside in the fabric, repair whatever tears or rips. We only use the
dummies though when we’re in danger of injuring our training partner. Today, all onehundred and eight of us new-gen hybrids are working on something much less…life
threatening.
Normally, the blue mats are a solid color, but today the floors have fairly large white
circles that have been painted on them that cover the entire room. Each of us is assigned
partners by the trainer, Mr. Kang, a short but well-built Chinese man. He chooses our
partners most of the time for us, since he said he does not want us only learning to combat a
single type of person but rather to have a broad spectrum of understanding when it comes to
facing different types of opponents. Then, we each choose our circle and stand in it. When
everyone is ready and in their positions, the Mr. gives us our instructions in a loud voice
rimmed with a thick accent. He tells us to try and shut down all our abilities except one –
telekinesis. He wants us to each to be on the same level in this way and to not cheat and use
any more abilities than this one. Then, the goal is simple: Whoever can knock the other
person out of their circle without using any part of their physical body is the winner.
Generally, my classmates dread being paired with me, since it’s no secret these days
that I’m the girl with all the superpowers, the one whose Talent is everything. It seems
unfair – to them and to me. I don’t enjoy being singled out, and I especially don’t want to
make others feel inadequate. Lucky for me though, today I’m paired with Oliver Otus,
possibly the geekiest kid out of us all who is always striving for excellence and who will
never turn down a challenge, even if he knows the odds are against him. Normally, he’s the
one who excels at anything technological, since he seems to have a real knack for
understanding science, but we’re in Ability Training now, not our lessons, and I can feel his
slight apprehension, despite his goofy grin.
“On my mark!” calls Mr. Kang. We all ready ourselves, concentrating hard to
suppress all abilities minus the one. And then the whistle blows.
I instantly begin to feel my feet sliding backwards even though I’m not moving them.
I’m taken a bit by surprise at Oliver’s instant success at pushing me with his mind that I let
him keep sliding me until I’ve gone a whole foot back. Then, I fight the telekinetic shove
and leap forwards towards the middle of the circle again. I scrunch my face into
concentration as I think about moving the gangly boy outside the ring. Oliver, in addition
to being the self-proclaimed genius, is also a bit of a clown, and right now he’s only
reinforcing that impression, since he’s making the most ridiculous faces – certainly more
silly than mine – with his tongue hanging out as he tries desperately to move me without
actually touching me that I almost burst into laughter. His hands are twisting and groping
about and making pushing motions, as if that’ll somehow help him, that I entertain him for
a moment, beginning to walk in place as he moves me just enough to keep me standing in
the same spot if I walk. I can see the sweat on his face already starting to bead and slide
down his cheek at the mental exertion.
“Give up?” I ask as I cross my arms tauntingly.
Had this been any other challenge, one where we had to suppress every power except
one other than telekinesis, I wouldn’t be so confident. In fact, I pretty much am a disaster at
using all my other abilities in most cases. I can access them all upon will, yes, but that
doesn’t mean they exactly come easy to me. As it so happens though, telekinesis is one of
my better abilities, perhaps because I get the most practice with it, using it on a daily basis to
help me move or do things (Taryn always calls it the lazy man’s method), or maybe it’s
because if I were to have a real Talent like the rest of the hybrids it would have been
telekinesis. Whatever it may be, I seem to be pretty good at it. I hate to show anyone up,
especially when everyone already hates being my partner, but at the same time, I really want
to be able to exercise my mind just as the others get to, and this is the perfect challenge for
me.
Finally, Oliver takes a deep breath and, as he exhales, releases his mental grip on me.
He’s a little winded and looks like he may need a break as he rests his hands on his knees.
“Just warming up,” he reassures me.
I take this opportunity to look around quickly, not wanting to take full advantage of
the poor guy. Taryn’s been paired up with a girl named Nyx Nytrus. Other than their
similarly dark shorter hair, the two have absolutely nothing in common. Everyone that
doesn’t know Taryn well always thinks she and Nyx would get along, but that couldn’t be
further from the truth. Nyx is kind of a rebel, always getting into trouble and finding
excuses not to do what she’s told, hence the numerous scars covering her body except her
face from beatings she’s received. She likes negative attention, and though she’s normally
quiet and seems misunderstood, she’s a bit crazed when you let her break out of her shell (as
I had the mistake of doing once in a science lab class in which she blew up one of our
beakers). Taryn looks somewhat irritable as she faces the other girl, and both don’t appear
to be letting the other make much headway.
Myles Hawkins, the redhead with whom Taryn has quite adorably had her eye on for
some time now and who also happens to be Oliver’s best friend, is just a couple of rings
down from us. Though he is tall like my partner Oliver, he is much less gangly and seems
to be surer of himself. He and Oliver get along well since they both have a sense of humor,
though Myles’s is a little less quirky and cheesy and a little more witty and laugh-at-life.
Right now, Myles is facing a boy named Rafe who is looking at Myles like he’s a meal. To
Myles’s credit though, he doesn’t back down and pushes right back, and the two slide and
hop around their circle like some kind of dramatic dance. If only Taryn could see Myles
now, his dimples making quite an appearance as he grins out of excitement and the fun they
seem to be having with the exercise. Taryn never can stop talking about those dimples. His
electric green eyes meet mine for a split second as the two keep changing position around
their ring and he nods his head in what I at first assume to be a greeting, but then realize is a
tip off to Oliver getting back on his feet.
It was only a few seconds worth of a break, but it was enough for Oliver to regain his
composure as he focuses his telekinesis back on to me. This time, I push back and let him
feel the sensation of having your whole body hit with what can best be compared to a big
gust of wind. He stumbles and topples back a little but catches himself and bites down on
his tongue again, contorting his face once more, which actually does seem to help him
concentrate.
“Good, good!” I hear Mr. Kang yelling as he walks around and gives some people
pointers. “Keep at it. Don’t stop till someone’s out of circle. Then you may have seat.”
Already, I can see a few dozen or so pairs are sitting. Either there are some strong
telekinetics out there – which seems unlikely, considering there aren’t many with that Talent
– or quite a few people who aren’t very good at resisting the mental force. Either way, I
better start taking this seriously.
I close my eyes as I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. When I open them, I train
my eyes on Oliver and don’t look away. I try not to even blink, and this already seems to
have jostled him. He’s stopped biting his tongue and now he looks almost beseechingly at
me, suddenly aware just by my body language that now I mean business. He tries to take a
step toward the center of the ring, but I prevent him from doing so by propelling him a few
feet backward. He manages to land upright by leaning his body forward and letting gravity
do the work.
“Truce?” he asks jokingly, throwing his arms up in a shrug just before I take one
more step in his direction.
With one solid telekinetic shove, I force him straight out of the ring and he slides
across the blue mats until he’s landed in someone else’s circle. Luckily though, the two that
are using the circle are both already sitting inside their ring, having finished. They begin to
laugh, not cruelly, but in the way friends do, giving him a pat on the back. Then Oliver
even joins in chuckling, his ego a bit bruised, but not beyond making a joke at his expense.
“I keep telling the lunch ladies that if they don’t feed me more I’ll just blow over!”
In minutes, the rest of the teams have finished and Mr. Kang is clapping his hands
seriously – the manner in which he does everything. “Well done. Next, I want winners to
pair up, and losers do the same,” he orders in his broken English. “These matches you find
more even.”
It seems almost harsh, that the losers are forced to be together while the winners find
one another, but we’re all used to this sort of treatment. Mr. Kang never means it in a
demeaning way. He’s just not the best with words and comes from a culture very different
than what we know. In his mind, this must seem perfectly reasonable and not at all like
segregation. Amongst ourselves, we don’t normally act like one person is better than
another (except perhaps when it comes to how my peers view me, though I don’t feel any
more competent than anyone else). We pretend as if we’re all just as good as one another at
everything, that we’re all at the same learning level when it comes to our alien-given
abilities, because at the end of the day, all we really have is each other.
For round two, Mr. Kang lets us choose our partners, since he doesn’t want to waste
any more precious time we have left for training in choosing for us again. I see that Taryn’s
in the winner’s group, and inwardly I can’t help but smile, glad that she put Nyx in her
place. I start making my way over to her to partner up when someone cuts me off.
A blue-eyed boy with rusty brown hair and who, despite being the same age as me
and everyone else, is built more like a man than a teenager, steps in front of me, and I nearly
run into him. He stops me by putting his hands on my shoulders. I look up at him
expectantly, about ready to apologize for having nearly collided, but he doesn’t let go. He
then says in a soft voice, “Be my partner.” It’s not a question.
Flynt Forest is his name, and it suits him. If there was an underground forest here,
he no doubt would have it up in flames, somehow transforming it into an out-of-control
wildfire. He’s the most enigmatic of us, perhaps only due to the fact that many times he
gets personalized training with the alien Greys. This isn’t because of anything special, but
quite the contrary.
Every new-gen hybrid like us is expected to be completely human in appearance.
However, when Flynt uses his Talent, his eyes turn entirely black, just like a Grey. It’s
something both the instructors and his classmates had noticed early on. He received a lot of
negativity because of being different. Of being “less human.” Flynt’s possibly the only one
besides myself that knows what it feels like to be the odd one out, to be almost disliked by
the others.
His response to their reactions though was to throw a tantrum. Granted, he was just
a kid back then, but out of anger and frustration and doubtless his own humiliation, he
levitated all that he could one day in the lunchroom when a group of boys had been calling
him names and picking on him for his shortcoming. Flynt scared them half-to-death,
levitating the boys too and then sending them soaring across the polished wooden floor.
But they weren’t the only ones he scared. His actions earned him a swift and brutal
retaliation from the Suits in charge. He was punished and sentenced to three days in
isolation. After that, we all saw less and less of Flynt. I’ve heard rumors that the human
scientists debated destroying him, possibly viewing him as a failed experiment, or not quite
up to new-generation standards. Instead of going that far though, the Greys must have
convinced the scientists otherwise and took him under their care and allowed him to train
and learn from them more often than with us. Still, we do see him from time to time, as
they don’t want to entirely cut him off socially.
“What?” is all I can say, baffled.
“Let me see your moves, Skies,” Flynt presses, using my last name as if it gives him
some sort of power over me, like when our instructors sometimes refer to us only by our
surnames. “If you care about any of this and are interested in sparring with an evenly
matched partner, I’m your man.”
That’s when I remember Flynt’s Talent – telekinesis. Of course. This is his playing
field, his area of expertise. He wants to challenge me in front of everyone and defeat me, to
prove what I already know – that just because I’m the scientists’ superior creation that I’m
no good at any of my abilities. Or maybe I’m being irrational and he just wants to improve.
Either way, I’m now feeling tense.
“Fine,” I reply. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I notice Taryn now standing by herself and shaking her head in confusion. I just
shrug and send her a wave of mixed feelings, letting her know that this wasn’t my idea. She
rolls her eyes but then gives me a thumbs up, wishing me luck. I have just enough time to
see her pair up with Myles, who apparently had been victorious over the other boy, Rafe.
That’s when I feel slightly glad that I had not taken Taryn as a partner, giving her and Myles
the opportunity to get to spend these few minutes of class time we have left together.
Everyone chooses circles again and each pairing centers themselves inside the rings,
only inches from one another. I can’t help but shoot Taryn a quick glance and am unable to
hide my smile, as her face is as red as an apple being so close to Myles. Flynt on the other
hand looks serious, his eyes narrowed in resolve. I feel his desire to push me from the circle,
and that’s when I remember to close myself off from all abilities minus telekinesis. It’s not
an easy task, shutting them off. It’s a bit like telling yourself to only think about one thing
for an extended period. It’s difficult to not let other things slip by.
The whistle blows, and we’re back in action, everyone working hard to move their
opponent. After only a few moments though, we’re all interrupted as Nyx lets out a cry of
frustration, causing everyone to turn to look, and then she physically pushes her partner
from the ring. She knows she’s in trouble – it’s all too common for her. Mr. Kang’s creases
between his eyebrows intensify. Throwing her hands up in both exasperation and
indifference, Nyx exits the training room and is escorted out by the guards, probably to be
lead to wherever it is they take those of us that are disciplined. I then feel sorry for having
wanted Taryn to win so badly now. Despite Nyx’s explosive personality, no one deserves
physical abuse, and maybe if she had only won the first round, she wouldn’t be so upset
now.
There’s no time to dwell on it though. Almost instantly after Nyx disappears out of
the room, we all go back to our exercise, and Flynt is clearly taking this seriously. I watch
in paralyzed fascination as his once icy blue eyes become cloudy and darken. Blackness
consumes them like clouds rolling in to blot out the sun (which I have seen happen once or
twice on live video feed of the aboveground world) until there is no more blue, not even any
white. They are entirely black, just like the alien Greys, and I can see now how he looks so
much less human with his eyes like this. Because they changed though, that’s a clear
indication that he’s using his Talent, telekinesis, and as I remind myself of this, he does
something I would have never expected. Flynt pushes only one of my feet so that it slips
out from under me and I fall over. He could easily throw me out of the ring now in this
vulnerable state. I look up at him and wait for the full-body push that will surely come, not
hiding the dirty look on my face. But instead he’s smiling.
“You call this a challenge?” he mocks, even going so far as to turn his back on me
and take a few leisure steps around our circle, eyeing the others around us.
I let out a frustrated growl and stand back up on my feet, throwing everything I’ve
got into a telekinetic shove, but he’s already prepared, having put up a wall-like shield, using
his own telekinesis to block my attack. We stand squarely in our circle, neither backing
down. We’re both giving it all we’ve got, and I actually feel that I might lose. That’s when
I realize just how powerful Flynt has gotten by training one-on-one with the Greys. Or
maybe he was always a strong telekinetic and none of us ever got the chance to know.
Energy is building between us, an invisible force that, at this rate, could become
dangerous. I feel it growing, expanding. We’re both pushing on each other’s shields, and
Flynt isn’t backing down. He isn’t even breaking a sweat like Oliver had been. I can feel
my own stamina draining and growing weaker. He’s wearing me down. I won’t be able to
push back forever. One of us will need to give up first, since it’s becoming apparent now
that neither of us is stronger at this than the other.
Then, most startlingly, the bell that signals the end of a class echoes throughout the
large training room and alarms us both, breaking our concentrations, causing an unseen
explosion of energy, which sends the two of us flying back a few yards only to land safely on
the padded floors. I groan in surprise and from the slight pain of landing on my rear end.
It’s then that I become aware that the rest of the class has already finished their
training and has been watching Flynt and me. All eyes are on us, and in an awkward
moment, Flynt and I exchange glances, scan the room, and then look back at one another.
He shoots me a half-smile before his face returns to its usually stony expression. And, like a
gentlemen, he stands and walks over to me, offers me his hand – which I decide to take –
and helps me up just as his eyes lighten and return to normal. “Great match. Telekinesis is
definitely your thing.” Then he says low enough so that only my ears can hear, “I better
look out for you, Skies.”
*
I sit alone in my ten-by-fifteen-foot personal room that is called a unit. It’s now
three in the afternoon, and on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, we get a two-hour
break in our units before our last piece of itinerary for the day – more training. We’re
allowed to watch TV, but we only get five channels to choose from, and of course all of the
shows or films have been conscientiously picked by whoever they put in charge of our
entertainment. Except for special occasions, the television only plays something
educational. Right now, I have on a show about different types of societies and ways of
living, and currently the narrator is talking about Amish communities and their simple
living and disapproval of modern technology, putting more of an emphasis on rural life,
manual labor, and humility. All of it sounds completely foreign to me. I can’t imagine a
life without any technology.
Though the television is captivating as usual (despite the informative nature of it), I
can’t help but let my mind wander to earlier and mull over what Flynt had said to me. Why
would he need to look out for me? Does he view me as competition? Does he consider me
his equal? Maybe, he’s always looked at me as a rival, but that seems kind of ridiculous.
We’ve hardly spoken at all to each other throughout all these years, and I’ve rarely even
seen him around. He couldn’t possibly know what I’m capable of, unless he just assumes,
given who I am, that I’m good at everything, which of course is a lie. Therefore, I would
make perhaps the worst sort of rival he could choose to have. I end up deciding to set this
aside eventually and not worry about it, attributing it to him just being him – odd.
I take a look around my unit, as if looking to address someone, and then speak in a
clear voice, “Raise temperature two degrees.” The room obliges, blowing out warm air
from one of the hidden vents. I lay back in bed, comfortable now, and continue watching
the show that’s on.
My room, like all the other units for the new-generation hybrids, is entirely white,
even the floors, which are a shiny marble. The walls are made of poured concrete with
opaque plexiglass covering them so that they’re perfectly smooth, which is ideal, as each
wall also functions as a giant touch-screen computer. Of course, our multi-touch wallcomputers are very limited in what they can display and do, but that does include such
things as displaying the current time or weather in any part of the world, a live video feed of
select locations (which can be played as tiny or as large as we like, even covering every wall
if we wish), and a breakdown of our agenda for the day (since, even though our schedule
stays rigid and unchanged, our lessons change daily). We can even play some simple games
or draw just by using our fingers. There also is a built-in system that allows us, by voice
command, to call security or the emergency staff if we were to have a problem.
A magnetic-powered sliding door, the only entrance and exit, is at the far side of the
room, and it is always locked. Outside, armed guards patrol the hallways to make sure
everything is secure. Every unit has a double-sized bed, which is low to the ground and has
a plain but sleek black bed frame and clean white bed sheets with plush, equally white
pillows. There’s a window in the concrete wall that’s very wide but short, six feet by one
foot, and it’s facing the units on the other side so that we can look out into the hallway (or
more like the workers, or “bees” as we like to call them, can look in). Also in the units are
square built-in floor lights that glow an eerie green-blue, which mostly serve as night lights.
In the back corner, furthest from the door, is a floating staircase (not actually floating, but
rather the minimalist style of stairs that have the steps built directly into the wall). Each step
is translucent and made of glass and leads up to a ten-by-five foot bathroom. It has a
standing shower made of glass, a toilet, and a floating sink (again, not actually floating). I
am quite thankful that they provided each of us with our own bathroom so that we wouldn’t
have to be escorted to a public restroom whenever we needed to go. That, and we’re
allowed the privacy to shower alone.
This place is my home, or what least what I can call home. My unit’s really the only
place that I don’t feel any eyes on me, because I know there are no cameras here, only out
in the hallways and classrooms or training rooms. I can be myself in my unit and relax. It’s
so much more than the old-gen hybrids are provided with, which I heard are much more
like prison cells where they keep all their failed or outdated experiments like captives.
Suddenly, and most unexpectedly, a soft two-toned chime dings, stirring me from my
immersion in the TV show. The sound is one of the few civilized courtesies in my
otherwise tyrannical situation. Puzzled, I wonder just who it could be at this time, since I
only just started my afternoon break a few minutes ago and wasn’t expecting anyone to
collect me for almost another couple of hours. Standing to demonstrate both politeness and
respect, I wait for my guest to enter without needing to say anything to invite them in.
Despite the bell, I’m not in a place to deny anyone entry unless using the restroom or
shower (and even then…).
To my delight, I am greeted not by one of the human workers at the base, but rather
by a short, four-foot tall being with sleek, gray skin and overly-large, almond-shaped black
eyes – a Grey alien. Though to most humans, the Greys all looked relatively the same, I
ams able to tell them apart very easily and without any trouble whatsoever, as if it is almost
in my DNA to recognize my own kind. In addition to that though, this particular alien I
have known since I was little, given that he had worked with me regularly to develop my
mental powers, and who I have come to learn has the slightest hint of blue to his eyes
whenever the light catches them right, although no one else ever seems to notice this.
“Void,” I murmur aloud out of surprise, but then catch my tongue. Whenever in
each other’s presences, the alien and I normally communicate telepathically. It is a
wonderful way for me to practice this ability, but more so than that, I always get the feeling
that it is a pleasant way for both of us to be able to speak to one another in private, as if
interacting in our own personal worlds – a relief to me and something I consider quite
special, being that the other hybrids and I never have much in the way of privacy.
“It’s nice to see you again,” says the alien named Void mentally. Of course, this is just
a pleasantry he has picked up from the humans, as his kind didn’t experience emotions the
same way that humans do, and so it probably makes very little difference to him if he sees
me frequently or not. But because I find it impossible to read the feelings of the Greys, both
by my own intuition and by using my powers, I like to pretend that at least this one finds
spending time with me somewhat enjoyable.
I smile. “It’s always nice seeing you,” I think toward him. Though I don’t quite
understand my powers the way the aliens seem to, I know how to work them, and by simply
thinking of my target and the words I wish to express, they are somehow transmitted his
way. “What brings you here?” Things are always the same in the underground military base,
and when they aren’t, it always means something interesting…or something frightening.
“Well, why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, motioning toward my bed, the only real
place besides the floor to sit. This, too, is another human gesture of good manners he has
learned. He knows better though, so this only unsettles me further. So I stand, eyes
narrowed but filled with curiosity, a desire in me that the alien can easily recognize and
relate to. He – for the creature is a male simply because that is what he is psychologically,
not having any real reproductive organs – nods his head ever so slightly to signify that it is
okay that I stand. “Very well.
As you know, the new-generation hybrids are eighteen years of age now, much like yourself.
This means, according to the country in which you’ve been born, that you are a legal adult. In various
human cultures, it is common practice for those coming of age to undergo some type of challenge or test
in order to be recognized as adults within their community. Here, it is much the same.
You will be expected to demonstrate what you have learned over the years along with expressing
your detachment to the trivial and unimportant. In other words, you are to show that the ends of all
this justify the means, that all your training here has a greater purpose that cannot be stopped or slowed
by anything that might come in the way.”
“I don’t understand,” I think towards him. “What are you trying to say?” Void knows of
course that I’m not referring to what he is plainly saying, but rather what he is inferring. He
seems hesitant or perhaps unable to explain any further though. I feel a part of him shut
down, and I know this is the only information he is able to share, possibly the only warning
he is able to give, for nothing happens for many long moments.
“You will do only what we expect of you…” he finally says cryptically, putting a longfingered hand on mine, a gesture that normally would suggest affection, which confuses me,
and rather than comforting me, it only manages to do the opposite, making me realize how
serious this must be. “And I support you.” With that, he turns and exits the room, which
locks loudly after his departure.
*
Two excruciatingly gruesome hours go by, during which I am left alone with my
thoughts and suspicions as to what the extraterrestrial could have meant by his visit. I’m
not entirely sure the humans in charge were even aware he came to see me (as the aliens do
seem to frequently operate above them). As usual though, after a couple hours, one of the
guards dressed in their black uniform comes to my door and escorts me out. I’m taken to
one of the specialized large training rooms. Unlike the gymnasium-like exercise rooms, this
one is filled with rows of seating, but at the front of the class is a large raised stage that’s for
demonstrations. I make sure to scan the room briefly upon entering to locate my friends
and then dutifully take a seat next to Taryn Miro.
“What’s happening?” I ask the other girl in a hushed voice, hoping she might have a
clue.
“What do you mean?” she asks, looking suddenly worried. Clearly, she wasn’t told
anything by her alien mentor, like I was by Void. I then feel rather guilty at learning that I
was provided with special information and that she wasn’t, but how can I tell her what I
don’t even really know myself?
“It’s…nothing. I just thought today seemed different.” To cover up my uncertainty,
I try to direct calming, reassuring emotions toward my empathetically-Talented friend.
Whether she buys it or not is hard to tell, as she’s now alert, watching everything happening
around us.
Myles Hawkins, the redhead, sits in front of Taryn. He’s hanging out in the isle
talking in a low voice to his friend Oliver, who is attempting to conceal his laughter at
something funny they appear to be talking about. Neither one of them seems to be aware of
anything out of the ordinary. I look around more for any signs and spot Flynt also looking
about, and he catches my eye, offers his trait sideways smile, and then turns his attention to
the last of our classmates that file in and take their seats. If ever there was some sort of sign
of anything being wrong, it is seeing Flynt Forest twice in one day. They’ve gathered us all
here in this room together, including him.
Once everyone has arrived – each individually and by an armed escort – the room
falls completely silent and still, as if everyone is holding their breaths. That’s when an
eccentric-looking man in a white lab coat with wiry gray hair that stands on end enters
through the heavy metal door, which swiftly closes and locks after him. I can feel the
presences of a team of guards standing right outside. Whatever is about to happen, it
requires even more security than usual.
The man, who we all know is an instructor and scientist called Professor Volk,
begins pacing dramatically in front of everyone, observing us in a way that looks as if he’s
about to dissect us. Volk looks to be in his sixties and is quite thin, almost sickeningly so,
yet he carries an undeniable air of confidence and superiority about him. He also seems to
delight in drawing out the suspense as long as possible. After about a minute, he stops in his
tracks, pushes his large glasses up on his nose, which magnify his normally-beady eyes, and
stares at us all. His thin lips seem to be fighting with him to turn upwards into a maniacal
smile. I never enjoyed lessons in which he is the instructor.
“Today is a very special day,” Professor Volk starts in his rather surprisingly deep
voice. Because many of the high-security-clearance-level employees at the underground
base have brain implants to protect them to some degree from mental inspection or abilities,
I am unable to fully detect what it is that he is thinking or feeling, but I get a very strong
sense that with whatever is about to happen, he is going to enjoy it. “Everyone here is now
at least eighteen years of age – an adult. You have faced many tests here, ones that were
sometimes life-threatening but were, as you know, for the good of mankind. There is one
final trial though that you all must partake in, in order to prove yourselves worthy. If you
do not succeed or you refuse to do what is asked of you, you have failed us, and you have
failed yourselves, and therefore you will be marked for immediate termination.”
At this, all eyes in the room began to meet one another in shock and disbelief, which
only seem to give Volk more satisfaction.
“Yes, you heard me correctly,” he continues, taking his place behind the large front
desk but not yet sitting. “Now that we understand each other, let me explain what your task
is. As hybrids – the result of the best combinations of human DNA and alien genetic
material – you all have an important role to play in our society, one that will eventually be
revealed to you. In this role, there will be much that will be asked of you, and it may not
always make sense at the time, but everything has already been orchestrated and carefully
planned out, and so you must trust us to know what we are doing, as it is only to better our
world.
“As always, you are all expected to follow orders and listen to your superiors and
those in charge, and by doing so, you will be greatly rewarded. To show that you are loyal
to us and to your country, we need you all to demonstrate that you will do whatever is
asked of you when it is asked, without any questions and that you will follow orders when
they are issued to you. This shouldn’t be so different than usual, but you’ll find that what
we are going to ask today may be difficult to come to terms with. However, if you trust us
and believe in our goals, you will feel no remorse, no reluctance. Only pride.”
I like this less and less the more the Professor speaks. Even Myles and Oliver seem
unable to bounce back with an encouraging smirk. I think back to Void’s words and how
they didn’t seem to give me any sort of advantage whatsoever, other than knowing he
supports me. He had said that I would do what they expected of me. Did he mean I would
do what he and the other Grey aliens expected or simply what everyone, including the
human scientists wanted? That, I realize, could be a very different thing, as more often than
not, the humans and the aliens have conflicting objectives and expectations.
I am unable to consider this much further though, as suddenly the metal door opens
again, and this time a man in all gray is brought in then left at the front of the stage. He
does not make eye contact with anyone in the room, not even the Professor, just simply
stands there looking a very strange mixture of both defeat and determination.
“This man,” Professor Volk says, “is the first of many that will die today. He will
die at one of your hands.” Everyone suddenly erupts into protest and chatter, some even
rising from their seats. Instantly reacting to this, Professor Volk shushes us all by pressing a
button he and many other humans wear on a specially-constructed ring, which sends an
electrical discharge through the brains of each hybrid via an implant we have been given at
birth that renders us unable to move, let alone speak or use our natural powers.
And then, in that minute of sheer pain and anguish, it hits me – Void’s words. Void
would never refer to both himself and the humans as “we.” The aliens always consider
themselves separate from humans, even despite working together, and above them in many
ways. He had said to me, “You will do only what we expect of you,” and now, more than ever,
I understand that he was referring to himself and the other Grey aliens. If that is true, and I
know it must be, then the aliens would never have ordered any of us to purposelessly take a
life, and so they could never have expected such out of us. The aliens may have done a
number of things that men would consider unethical in the name of science, but they have
no set of morals or ethics, because they have almost no emotions, which makes everything
very different for them. That was why they worked for countless years to create these newgeneration hybrids, ones that were the perfect balance of human and alien, ones that would
have emotions, and ones that would benefit this world, not be used as mindless tools of
further corruption and barbaric hostility.
“As I was saying,” Professor Volk goes on as if nothing had happened, releasing the
trigger that delivers the electric shock. The classroom begins to recover, grumbling in pain.
“Zero questions. Only action. You will do what is required of you. Or you will suffer the
same fate in his place.”
The Professor combs back some of his matted hair and scans the room until his eyes
land directly on me, piercing me with more fear and trepidation than I have ever recalled
feeling before. “I normally like to save the best for last, but considering I’m so anxious to
get started and show the class just what a real, true hybrid can do, I would like to call upon
Era Skies to be the first to participate and to set an example for the rest of you.”
Anything but flattered, I want to sink into my seat and disappear, to close my eyes
and open them to see Void there, telling me that it is all only a dream or some type of
strange and cruel test, or just one of the virtual reality training exercises. Instead though, I
surprise myself completely by standing almost immediately, a look of sheer resolve and
purpose on my face. Everyone, especially Taryn, whose mouth hangs wide open, seems
startled but says nothing and just watches in horror as I make my way on stage.
Professor Volk nods approvingly and says, “I want you to use whatever power you
feel best displays what you’ve learned in your training exercises and that represents you
most. Don’t bother feeling sorry for this man.” He motions to the gray-suited individual.
“He himself is prepared to give his life for a purpose greater than himself. You may start
whenever you like, but do not hesitate when it comes to –”
The remainder of the Professor’s words are instantly lost in a sudden and intense
explosion that engulfs the entire room, spreading all the way toward the back rows of
students.
When it is over, and the explosion has telekinetically and most impressively been
concentrated into a single orb-like mass, saving everyone from an agonizingly horrifying
death, I am standing in front of the man I was meant to kill, the deadly explosive energy
hovering in midair behind me. I take a minute to explain how I did it in response to the
Professor’s question. Then, in the next instant as the blazing bubble shoots forward at the
helpless and valiant man, threatening to take his life with as much lethal power as dynamite,
it suddenly and inexplicably dissipates, dissolving into thin air as, atom by atom, molecule
by molecule, it is ripped apart and destroyed, breaking up into nothingness like falling rain,
disappearing altogether until the entire explosion is but a memory.
The man in the gray jumpsuit stands with his head down, his body trembling,
waiting for death to take him, and when it doesn’t, it takes him many long moments to
gather his courage to look up and face me, now completely alone without a hovering mass
of death next to me and probably looking entirely nonthreatening, like an average teenager.
Though the entire time he has not spoken or uttered a word of objection, his eyes have
started to water, and when he turns to me with that mixture of terror, incomprehension,
gratitude, and relief, it is clear that he is a very strong man in that he didn’t break down and
weep or beg for his life. Instead, he looks me right back in the eyes and waits.
“Before you pass judgment on me, Professor,” I say, still looking at the man whose
life I was supposed to have taken, my back turned toward the Professor, “perhaps you
would like to hear what I have to say.” When the Professor says nothing, or at least takes
too long formulating his words, I continue.
“You asked me to set an example for everyone here in this room, to be their role
model. Why? Because I have all the skills that the aliens do? Does that really make me
more valuable than any of my peers? I may be the ‘jack of all trades,’ but I know I’m not
the master of them all. I know that my friend Taryn Miro can read people’s emotions and
even alter them better than I ever seem to be able to. I know that Myles Hawkins can create
more realistic illusions than I can hope to generate or even dream up. Even Flynt Forest is a
better telekinetic than me, and that would be my choice ability if I had to choose.
“Maybe I’ll be as good as them someday, and maybe it’s just a matter of more
practice, but to single me out like that and make it sound as if any one of these people isn’t
just as valuable is wrong.” Turning now to face Professor Volk who stands shakily by his
desk, I say bodly, “You were wrong.
“You see, killing this man isn’t proving a point. In fact, it’s hurting it. We were
created as hybrids in order to combine the best of both species, isn’t that correct? And what
was it exactly that the aliens found so valuable in us other than our strong DNA that they
lacked in themselves? Emotions. Humans experience emotions and have feelings, and it’s
that missing link that all of us hybrids share. We can put fuel and drive behind our abilities
and all that we do because of what we feel, and that makes us stronger, makes us better. So
killing an innocent person just because we’re asked would be like taking a step back in
evolution, removing the special ingredient in us that makes us so special and unique. You
might as well go back to training old-generation hybrids. To kill without question or guilt is
to not be human, and we were made to be part human. So this – compassion, empathy,
consideration – this is what you gave to us. And so as your ‘prized pupil,’ I therefore choose
to demonstrate just what exactly I am: a hybrid – an alien, capable of destruction and great
power,” I say, motioning towards the huge black hole now left in the wall where the bell
had been before looking back towards the helpless man in the grey jumpsuit, “and a human
– capable of compassion and sympathy.”
In overwhelming response, the entire class rises out of their seats in applause. Some
whistle and yell. Others just seem awestruck. Taryn and Myles look perhaps the most
proud, Myles clapping loudly high in the air for me to see above everyone’s heads and
Taryn nods continuously in approval, her eyes sparkling. Stunned and touched, I turn to
them all, ever so vaguely smiling in appreciation.
The next couple of hours fly by so quickly, I barely recall what’s happened. I
vaguely remember eating a little something after training was dismissed. Then, before I
know it, I’m invited to go to my favorite place on the whole base other than my own unit.
Sitting together that evening in a secluded room on the fifth sublevel, where the alien
housing is located and also where most of the humans never have access are Void and me.
It is a rare occasion in which I am permitted clearance to be allowed down one floor from
where I normally spend all my time, but it is the extraterrestrials that have the majority of
the power at the underground base, despite the humans liking to pretend otherwise. It is
also because of the persuasiveness of the Grey aliens that the hybrids were given permission
to have the rest of the day off and to forget about our coming-of-age challenge.
The two of us are in Void’s own personal room, and it has only been a handful of
other times in my life that I ever recalled seeing it. It is small but cozy, only having a single
bed, just like mine, but with various artifacts on the walls and around the room that I don’t
recognize and assume to be part of his planet’s technology. Unlike most of the rest of the
underground base, this level has completely black walls made of some sort of strange, glossy
material not seen elsewhere. It is a slightly ominous sight, but my affinity for the small,
large-headed beings along with the sense of serenity I always feel when visiting the fifth
floor makes it seem very peaceful and comforting.
“I wasn’t going to kill him. That much I was sure of,” I say to him telepathically, on the
subject of what happened earlier. I’m staring awkwardly at my hands and lost in thought.
“I knew you weren’t expecting me to either,” I add, eyeing him quickly for reassurance, which he
gives in the form of a nod.
I smile solemnly. “To be perfectly honest though, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do until
I got up there. That horrible Volk said to use whichever power we thought best represented us and that
demonstrated what we’ve learned so far. I knew I wanted to do something with my powers, and I
wanted to stick to using something that was me, to throw that back in their faces. But I’m not like the
others – I don’t have a unique Talent. I just…use all my abilities. That’s when I remembered training
from earlier today though. We had to use telekinesis, and something that Flynt said stuck with
me…about telekinesis being ‘my thing.’ Maybe I only did what I did because telekinesis was fresh in
my mind, or maybe I just thought there was some truth to what he said. Anyway, all I cared about
was scaring the professor somehow and showing him and the rest of them just how powerful we are. I
hate that they thought they could demand such a thing from us all and threaten us so blatantly. It
infuriated me, and I got reckless. I wanted him to fear us. To fear me…” I admit.
“You’re resourceful, creative, and rather clever,” Void thinks to me, his large, ebony eyes
reflecting my contemplative face back at me. “What you did, it was unlike anything I’ve seen in
both the hybrids we’ve produced and in ourselves. Even we can’t create an explosion out of nowhere, so
to use your knowledge of science along with your skills at telekinesis was very much a great
representation of yourself.”
“I knew that I could do it, and I knew I could control it without hurting anybody. I may not be
the best at exerting myself telekinetically, but when it comes to control, it’s like second nature – it just
takes some finesse. So that never even registered as a concern. The part that scared me the most was
the whole ordeal itself – being ordered to kill a man. Just what is the US government not prepared to
do? And when I looked into that man’s eyes, I could see everything. I could feel his every emotion as if
it were my own, could see his weak and cold aura, and could read his thoughts. Do you know who he
was? He was a janitor here; that much was obvious by his gray outfit. But he was also a father. He
had a family out there. Their lives had all been threatened, put into jeopardy by the Suits, who told
him that if he did not willingly offer his life and without a single word of protest, that everyone he loved
would die instead. It’s sickening!
“I saw all of this, Void, in an instant. It just flashed before my eyes, and even though I may
have spared his life, the people in charge here, the Majestic Twelve and the NSA, they are the real
monsters.” Although I don’t know much about the Majestic Twelve or the National Security
Agency, I know their names, as does everyone here, and I know they control most
everything at this underground base, which, by the state of things, reflects their madness.
“They’re the ones that everyone, including this country, has to be afraid of. I can’t imagine what
they’ll do to achieve their goals. They certainly have some sort of future planned out.”
“You’re right, Era,” says Void, his face as blank as ever, but sounding perfectly aware.
“But so do we.” He must feel my growing interest at that remark but says nothing more. We
are not yet ready to learn the biggest reason why we have been created.
Something new suddenly occurs to me, and I turn to regard Void with both intrigue
and a bit of grief. I know he feels my emotions, but he waits for me to speak first.
Every Grey alien has their real name they were given on their home planet that they
use amongst each other. But since coming to Earth and working with humans, they each
adopted more Earth-friendly names so that they could be easier to remember and pronounce
for the humans. I still don’t know Void’s real name.
“I never really understood it before or gave it much thought, but your Earth name – Void… Is
it referring to what your species is lacking? The void of human emotions?”
“There, you see,” says Void mentally in his even-toned and so-far-from human voice,
which echoes through my head with each word. “Clever.”
Three
Game Over
“Everything that is new or uncommon raises a pleasure in the
imagination, because it fills the soul with an agreeable
surprise, gratifies its curiosity, and gives it an idea of which
it was not before possessed.”
– Joseph Addison
The days that follow the coming-of-age trial seem to drag on forever, and it’s a
wonder we even make it to the weekend. The other hybrids have even become withdrawn
towards me, and I can’t help but feel as if I’ve sentenced us all to death. We wait for some
sort of retaliation from the Suits, the National Security Agency, or the Majestic Twelve
themselves, all of whom we have learned to fear. Despite whatever power or influence
these agencies think they may have though, regardless of the impression of control they
maintain here, it becomes increasingly clear that it is the aliens, the Greys, that are truly the
ones calling the shots.
No hybrids are executed, as was initially promised by Professor Volk if we did not
carry out with our objective to take another person’s life. None of us are even so much as
taken to be physically punished, something that Nyx can’t quite seem to wrap her head
around, being that she’s grown to expect such treatment for even the smallest signs of
stepping out of line. The aliens are, as they always have been, keeping us safe. Protecting
us. Eventually, everyone settles down and relaxes, and I am accepted once again and then
even regarded as something of a hero, rescuing everyone from having to commit murder. I
am happy to have made a difference – in our lives and the lives of those innocent would-be
victims.
By the time training on Saturday afternoon rolls around, we’ve all begun to breathe a
sigh of relief, confident that the human scientists aren’t through with us just yet (otherwise
training would be pointless). On Saturdays, we only do two planned things outside our
personal units other than eat meals.
The first takes place from nine to ten in the morning, when we get free range in the
gymnasium to do anything we choose. There are a variety of activities, including weight
lifting, aerobics, running around the track, playing games like basketball, volleyball, or
tennis, or just walking and conversing. As long as we stay busy, we aren’t bothered.
After lunch, we have an hour break back in our units until we are ushered to our
second and final event of the day – something called hologame training inside a combat
simulation chamber known as the Ghost (perhaps because of the spectral-like images it
produces). Hologames are timed events that pit two teams of five against each other.
Because there are over a hundred hybrids, the Ghost is massive, easily stretching farther
back into the earth than any other place in the base (at least that I know of). It is composed
of around a dozen individual chambers, each about three thousand square feet – enough
space to spread out for the exercise. The holograms produced inside are recreations of any
place that the game designers choose, and it’s always so life-like, that I often times forget
that I’m not actually at the location but am instead deep underground. For me, it’s a
fantastic way of feeling liberated, of getting a taste of someplace else besides here.
When entering the Ghost, the holograms within immediately detect the presences of
everyone and build up a suit over our usual uniforms, a holographic outfit that resembles
new-age armor. The armored suits are mostly black but with decorative lines and designs
that glow a different color depending on what role we play in the game. (Our roles were
predetermined at birth, and we never get to play a different one.) We each are also armed
with a hologun, a fake weapon that only exists in the Ghost but that can damage the illusion
of body armor on our opponents. We are allowed to use our alien powers too, but only to a
certain extent. We are not permitted to physically or mentally harm our opponents beyond
typical scrapes and bruises and disorientation. Anything rough enough to result in a trip to
the med lab is too far and takes away points from the team that caused the injury.
Points are earned by, first and foremost, taking out opposing team members. The
only way to take someone out is with the hologun. Anything else doesn’t register with the
armored suit’s hologram and therefore doesn’t count. Only shots fired at the suit will
deplete the person’s virtual health, which is visually displayed as a health bar across our
chests. The only reason to use our powers is to either aid us in getting a good, clean shot at
the opponent or to help us avoid getting shot at. When a person is out, the opposing team
earns ten points. Taking out a team leader though awards five more points than any other
player, awarding fifteen points to the team who manages to do so. Therefore, a total of
fifty-five points can be earned if every last opponent is taken down before the time runs out.
We earn five points for successful head shots, since our virtual helmet can only take two
head shots before we’re out. For use of creativity in combat and excellent demonstration of
our alien abilities, we are given one point when deemed appropriate. The clock runs out
after thirty minutes, and since we are in hologame training for a little over one hour, we get
to play two games, the second of which is known as the rematch.
It’s some of the most fun I’ve ever had here in this underground base we know as
RIO-AUX.
The roles we play that are issued before birth are determined by both the alien and
human scientists. Our character and qualities are something that they can somehow
measure, which thereby allows them to bestow on us a function, a job, a role for our lives to
revolve around and to be governed by. Sometimes, the role reflects our own Talent, or alien
ability we are best at using, though this is not always the case. It has always been fairly
unclear to us as to why we are given these positions, but we can only imagine it has to do
with some greater plan that we still have not been briefed on.
Along with a role, we are also assigned at birth what is called a Keeper, an alien
Grey that will become our mentor and tutor as we age, to guide and teach us how to better
understand and use our alien powers and our Talents. To the Keepers, we are known as
Subjects, and not every Grey gets to have a Subject. It is considered amongst their kind a
great honor and privilege to get to be paired with one of us, since above all else, it is the
Grey’s desire to learn and study everything that gives meaning to their lives. And we are
the most important of their projects, making us a very special assignment.
This is why Void has been with me ever since I can remember and why almost all of
my training with my alien powers has been with him. We do train in groups frequently too,
but he’s the one that’s responsible for me and my success. Keepers are also charged with the
responsibility to see to it that we practice and follow our roles.
There are five roles total, and my role that I have been given is the Leader. Leaders
are defined as the rulers, commanders, captains, and officers, and there are very few of us.
There are perhaps a dozen leaders from the new generation hybrids. It’s not something I’ve
ever quite grasped or accepted, since I’ve never held any sort of leadership power here and
certainly don’t have any influence over anyone in charge. The title has always seemed to
me more superficial like a novelty, something that sounds desirable, but in all actuality is
meaningless. The only real time it ever comes into play is when we are in the hologames.
The other roles are the Support, the Defenders, the Thinkers, and the Builders. The
Support are made up of the healers, advisers, informants, and providers. The Defenders are
the soldiers, sentinels, upholders, and enforcers. The Thinkers are inventors, scholars,
visionaries, and scientists. The Builders are the engineers, designers, artisans, and creators.
All of this we memorized from a young age. It has no meaning or significance to us beyond
the hologames. I still contemplate over the implications of these assigned roles…
Because I’m a Leader, my holosuit glows red. Each team is required to have one
leader, but the rest can be any mix of other roles. This time, my team consists of someone
with a holosuit that glows with blue lights, a Support, a person with yellow lights, a
Defender, and two with green lights, Thinkers. We don’t have any orange lights that
represent the Builders, but hopefully that won’t be a weakness.
The Support is a girl I know fairly well with long, curly, dark brown hair and who is
quite possibly one of the nicest people I know of. Her name is Eden Evers, and her Talent I
already know to be induced healing, or rather the ability to rapidly restore health and heal
wounds or raise vitality. Though she’ll be unable to affect our virtual health that will be
displayed on our suit’s hologram, she can keep us invigorated and rejuvenated the entire
time, as if we just woke from the best sleep of our lives, entirely energized, along with easily
healing any minor injuries we may acquire. The Defender is Orin Knight, a boy who I
vaguely know that always comes across as respectable, but whose Talent I can’t quite place.
Molecular manipulation perhaps? He has chocolate brown hair and pure blue eyes. The
two Thinkers are Conner Kage, a thin yet toned dark-haired boy with side-swept hair long
enough that it covers his eyes, and Rafe Moss, a sandy blonde and one of the guys that had
faced off against Myles Hawkins, Taryn’s crush, during the telekinesis challenge – and lost.
I don’t know either well enough to be familiar with their Talents.
We sit in a small waiting room on a row of chairs. The room is entirely black and
dark except for the rows of small blue lights on the floor that illuminate the way out. There
is only one way of exiting the room (well, two, if you count the room itself, which is an
elevator that took us here). A slim, tall door stands directly in front of us. It is a pocket
door that slides sideways to open when the game begins.
Before it starts, the blackness in front of us dissolves and reveals two windows, one
on either side of the door in the center. The windows show us a peak into the terrain we are
about to enter, and we have exactly three minutes to discuss a strategy after seeing the type
of environment we’ll be battling in before entering. This is usually when the Thinkers come
into play most, typically discussing tactics and battle plans, while the leader lends a hand in
giving advice and direction.
When we were young, it was during these crucial pregame minutes that we argued
and bickered most, each of us trying to take on the role of the Leader and give orders to
others while not listening to anyone else’s ideas. Now that we’ve been playing these
hologames every Saturday though for years, we’ve all learned how to properly play on a
team and to fall into our roles that define us, each of our strengths making up for others
weaknesses, turning us into a unit, a well-oiled machine, a force to be reckoned with.
We aren’t allowed to talk to each other yet until the soft light above us turns on,
indicating we have three minutes. So we wait patiently, and I can almost feel the suspense
building. Since I’m a Leader, I’ve taken on a negotiator-like position, allowing everyone to
quickly voice their ideas and ultimately deciding which to move forward with.
What lies ahead appears to be something I’m not altogether unfamiliar with, at least
not here, as we’ve played in environments similar to it before. Something that the game
designers ensure us though is that no two hologames will ever be the same. Even if the
terrain is somewhat familiar, details will always be different. They constantly want to keep
us on our toes, ready for anything.
On the other side of the windows, a sea of green stretches across the playing field,
and I see lush trees that seem to reach as high as the sky itself so that I want to climb to the
very top and look out across the canopy to see the world, if only it were for real. A blanket
of moss and shrubbery covers the forest floor, along with some fallen branches and pine
needles, as many of the trees appear to be what I’ve learned to be fir or spruce. A thin layer
of fog envelops much of the ground, as if it could be dewy and wet, like a misty morning
after the rain. It looks so serene and peaceful, and I wonder for a moment if this place has
been modeled after a real forest somewhere in the world or if it is just something that came
out of the game designers’ imaginations.
At last, the dim light on the ceiling illuminates the small room, and we are free to
talk to formulate and discuss a plan for three minutes. Rafe is the first to speak, and he
informs us that in a previous match with this sort of environment, he and his team had a lot
of luck climbing and taking to the high ground to pick off their opponents. Despite the fact
that everything generated inside the Ghost is a fabricated, the holographic images somehow
generate mass, and therefore we are able to seek cover behind objects or use them to our
advantage. I agree that Rafe’s idea of climbing the trees could be smart, so long as we can
do so without being seen, which would give us the ability to ambush the other players.
Conner adds his input, suggesting we should have at least two people on the ground
coming in from the sides to flank the other team, while those in the trees can provide cover
for them as well as serving as snipers. He thinks that we can have the people flanking on the
ground herd the other players straight into the trap of those waiting in the trees.
It sounds perfect, except that we don’t have a builder, who has the ability to make
fortifications and manipulate the holographic environment to a certain degree within the
games. Without one, we won’t be able to make a base of sorts to return to if we need cover.
Orin, the Defender, reminds me though that if our plan works, we won’t need a base.
Eden agrees and volunteers to be a foot soldier, since she thinks she can be the most
useful if she’s moving around and versatile. I also volunteer myself to be on the ground,
and Rafe says that he thinks two on the ground and three in the trees sounds best. Conner
disagrees and thinks we only need two in the trees.
Before we can resolve this issue, the light above goes out, signally the end to our
planning, and we each line up at the door. I stand in the front, feeling the anxiety growing
at not knowing what’s about to happen and who’s going where. I try to imagine in my head
what would be the smartest course of action, whether we’ll need more snipers or more foot
soldiers, but I feel conflicted and decide that whatever happens can’t be all that bad. We
were able to come up with a lot of good ideas in a short amount of time, and I’m happy
with what we managed to plan. We’ll make it work.
A few seconds pass, and then the door slides open. I don’t hesitate. Drawing my
hologun, I walk out into the simulated forest and I can actually feel the branches crunch
beneath my boots. I remind myself to step lightly, so as not to give away my position to
enemy players. I’ll need to be able to navigate the whole playing field without being heard,
after all. Other than the light footsteps, sounds of birds and running water serve as realistic
ambience, which emanate from unseen speakers. Beyond that, everything seems eerily
quiet. I take in the scenery quickly, marveling in the beauty, before I make a beeline to the
right, since Eden is now on my left and is on her way to flank from that end. I try to catch a
glimpse of my teammates as I move through the foliage to see who’s choosing to either stay
on the ground or not, but the trees and plants are so dense and the fog seems to thicken the
deeper I go that I’ve already lost them.
My heart starts to pound the way that it always does during the hologames. I can
feel my adrenaline rising and senses growing sharp, as if my life really were at stake. I
become aware of the growing sound of running water and realize I must be getting close to a
stream. I tighten my grip around the holographic gun at my side and expand my awareness,
which allows me to catch glimpses of different things in my head from the other players –
emotions, thoughts, images. It’s enough to inform me that others will be on me in moments
if I stay in this position. This is unsettling, as I didn’t expect the other team to be
converging on us so quickly. It was supposed to be Eden and my job to push them forward
into our trap, but they seem to be moving towards us all on their own.
I manage to make it to the small stream I heard and easily hop over it before
navigating the trees and shrubbery on the other side, listening intently. Suddenly, hologun
shots are fired from far off to my left, and a wave of panic rushes over me as I think of Eden
on the other side, wondering if the other team found her. More shots sound, and I turn my
attention to the scoreboard on my wrist. Each holosuit is equipped with a watch-like
accessory that displays the current score along with who is out. I watch for Eden’s name to
appear under the “Out” list, but it remains blank. I allow myself to stare for a few more
seconds, wondering if there’s a delay, but it doesn’t change, and the gunfire has ceased.
Good. She made it then. But how? Did she manage to hide? Surely they’ll be perusing
her.
Then something quite unexpected happens, and I barely have time to take cover
behind a large tree trunk. Laser-like bolts spray out in rapid succession in all directions,
grazing the plants next to me. Eyes wide, I slowly slide down to the ground with my back
against the tree into a squatting position, hoping to avoid getting hit. The shooting lasts for
ten whole seconds – exactly how long we have before our hologuns overheat. The
temperature bar on our guns automatically depletes to cool when not in being fired, but if in
continuous use like that, they can only shoot for ten seconds before they stop and need to
cool down. Why would someone shoot off all the rounds they’re able to fire at once and
risk exposing their position like that while being unable to shoot back if they were fired on
themselves? It seems reckless and far too risky. It does give me some reassurance though
that maybe no one really spotted Eden after all.
Before I can finish pondering about the other team’s strategy, another round of
holographic laser-like shots are fired off nondiscriminatory in all directions. I don’t move,
but my eyes are scanning all the greenery around me. I’m not very well hidden, but the
shots are just far enough and off to the side that I seem to be in an okay spot for now. I
decide to try distracting the shooters when I notice a good-sized rock nearby at the stream.
Using telekinesis, I gently lift the rock from its place and hurl it as far as I can away from me
and back towards the direction I came from, hoping the enemy players will think the sound
is one of us and follow it right into where the snipers are waiting. The rock lands with a
heavy thud.
It works, and two opponents expose themselves, rushing forward and past me. I
can’t get a good luck at them to see who they are, lest I risk being seen, but they’re less than
fifteen feet away when they pass by. I only see their orange and blue glowing suits as they
disappear. When they’re out of eyesight, I stand and sprint forward, zigzagging through the
trees, trying desperately to make it to the other end in hopes of flushing the other three
enemy players out.
The walls in this combat simulation chamber look so real, and the images displayed
on them even adjust depending on your position, as if they really have depth, that it’s hard
for me to find where they are. Finally, as I jump through a low bush, I run straight into it.
Luckily I’m wearing an armored suit. I use my hands to feel my way back, deciding it best
to stay at the very edge of the playing field, especially if the other team’s plan is to simply
shoot everywhere in hopes of hitting us. This also is the fastest way, I decide, to make it to
the end where the other team emerged from their waiting room when the hologame began.
It takes only a couple minutes for me to reach the opposing wall at the other end of the
chamber. I then head toward the center of the playing field and raise my gun, ready to aim
at the first thing I see move.
Unfortunately, that happens to be Eden, who is swiftly making her way over to me
from behind a large pine tree. My hologun’s bolts pummel her blue-adorned suit, but
luckily for her, friendly fire doesn’t count, and so her health bar doesn’t drop.
“Sorry!” I think telepathically toward her, lowering my weapon. She shakes her
head, dismissing me in forgiveness.
“What’s going on?” Eden asks once she’s made it over to my position.
I shrug. “They’ve gone mad? Seriously though,” I reply, my eyebrows raised
questioningly, “they’re just storming through here like they’ve got this in the bag. They’re
overly confident. We have to make our way back. It seems like their whole team is gone
now and are converging on our starting point, probably hoping to overwhelm us all at once.
That’s my only guess. Our snipers are going to need us.”
Eden agrees, and we quickly make our way back. In our eagerness, we are a bit too
loud, so I try and soften our footsteps some by helping to hold us up a bit with telekinesis, so
it’s as if we weigh a lot less or almost like we’re walking on the moon. Eden lends a hand
too, pouring rejuvenating vigor into us both, and I feel so alert and observant, it’s as if
nothing can get past me now without my knowing.
Good thing too, otherwise I wouldn’t have known to duck. The butt of a hologun
nearly smacks me in the head, and as soon as I dodge, Eden is on the surprise assailant, her
own hologun raised, shooting him squarely in the chest. Clearly taken aback by her fast
reflexes and loosing his footing from the force of the close-range shot, the attacker falls over
but lifts his gun while on his back, aiming straight at my head.
That’s when I see who it is: Flynt Forest.
“You!” I say aloud in disbelief. Before this past week, I rarely ever saw Flynt at all
growing up, and now since the new-generation hybrids have turned eighteen it seems, I’ve
been seeing a lot more of him. Perhaps the scientists decided we were mature enough now
to handle his deficiency – the more alien side to him.
Flynt’s suit glows red like mine. So, it’s him who is leading the other team. Of
course under his leadership, he’d have them rush full steam ahead like a pack of wild dogs,
charging into battle without a plan or second thought. I was right to think before he is like
an out-of-control forest fire.
Flynt grins up at me. “Miss me?” he asks smugly before shooting me in the head.
I get an alert in my ear on my helmet, letting me know that half my health is now
gone. Suddenly remembering where we are, I pull everything I can feel – that is, everything
I can feel with my mind – and envelope Eden and myself inside a sort of shield made from
dirt, branches, leaves, rocks, and grass. It’s not much, but it’s enough to at least throw off
Flynt’s aim. Eden and I stand in our earthy cocoon for a few moments as I catch my
breath. She looks just as surprised as I am. From somewhere outside our shell, I hear
Flynt’s voice.
“Told you telekinesis was your thing, Skies,” he says in apparent appreciation for the
sight we now are. Then there’s silence…until everything around us starts being ripped apart
and tossed away. Rocks and branches and dirt fly out away from us, and I can’t hold it all
together. He’s too strong. In moments, our barrier is all but gone. “But you don’t have
anything on me,” Flynt finishes in a soft yet threatening voice as he is now visible in front of
us.
My hologun’s already raised and I squeeze the trigger just in time to catch him on his
arm and leg as he darts behind a tree. As quickly as he appeared though, he’s gone, and I
feel only Eden and my presences remaining in the immediate area.
“Let’s go,” Eden urges, and we run off too, hoping to make it back to our team in
time to help them with the rest.
We can hear laser fire now, and I feel my heart sink, hoping that everyone’s made it
up a tree by now and is safe. At least then they’ll have a better vantage point and can
possibly use the tree’s branches as cover.
Before we arrive on the scene, something far stranger than anything that’s happened
yet starts to occur. All around us, the trees and plants begin to wither and die. Leaves turn
from lush green to bright orange and red and then to sickly brown and gray as they fall to
the forest floor and disappear into nothingness as they land. Seasons rapidly change from
summer to fall to winter, and without all the greenery, the forest quickly thins out. Soon,
everything is still and bare and dead-like. The trees are now all but skeletal, and I am
frozen in place – not from it being cold, as the temperature remains the same, but rather
from the shock that the game designers decided to completely alter our environment
midgame. This changes everything. I think of our snipers and how they are entirely
exposed now up in the trees. If it wasn’t already, this game has quickly turned in favor of
the other team.
Eden and I make it to the other end of the playing field, our frustration and
bewilderment rising, and that’s when we hear more hologun shots. When we emerge
through all the trees, I notice our teammates Orin and Rafe on the ground, having
apparently just been shot down by unseen players. The lights on their suits have gone
completely out, indicating that they are both out of the game. They stand up and make
their way back to the waiting room, anger and exasperation registering on their faces as they
are unable to participate any longer. We watch them walk through the starting door when
laser bolts start shooting all around us. I get hit in the shoulder and Eden is at least hit
several times in the arm and on her side before we can seek cover behind two separate thin
trees. My health bar is nearly down to zero, and I know without even needing to look at the
scoreboard on my wrist that the other team is winning. Regardless, I glance at it anyway. It
reads “27 to 4.” Miserable. The other team scored twenty points for taking out two of
our players, five for my headshot Flynt delivered, and two more for some type of use of
their powers. Our score tells me that none of them have been taken out yet by our team.
“Where’s Conner?” I ask mentally to Eden across the gap between our trees. She looks
a mixture of sick and outraged, and I’m right there with her. “He must still be around,” I
insist, having just confirmed that he isn’t out of the game yet.
“Does it really matter?” Eden thinks back to me, or at least attempts to. I’m able to
decipher that much of it, but when her thought-speech reaches me, it’s all jumbled and
echoy, convoluted with bits of words from other things she’s thinking – something that
happens when a person isn’t well-trained at telepathy.
She is right though. The game’s over. There is no coming back from this. The other
team knows it too. They all begin to emerge from their hiding places in what remains of the
brush or from behind the skeleton trees. Flynt appears first, walking in a slow and confident
pace directly for us, and behind him are Aksel Thorne, a Builder, and Rozlin Rivers, a
Support, whose orange- and blue-glowing suits I had caught a glimpse of earlier, along with
a Defender named Alice Evelice and a Thinker whose name is Corwin Sage. They have a
complete team with a player of every role. The odds seem so uncoincidentally in their
favor. All I can think is that this just isn’t right.
“Give it up,” Flynt calls over to Eden and I. His hologun is trained on me. I can
feel it in my mind. Standing perfectly still, trying to make myself as thin as the tree I’m
taking cover behind, I try and lift his gun up out of his hands, but of course he manages to
hold it in place with his own powers.
Then something unexpected happens. I hear almost in unison the players on the
other team cry out just as hologun shots are fired. I can’t help but turn around and peek out
from behind my tree to watch. One, two, three of them take direct head shots. Rozlin is
immediately taken out when she receives a second headshot, then soon too is Corwin.
Aksel reacts fast and begins to build up a makeshift fort, using his power as a Builder to alter
and create holograms. Within a matter of moments, he is safely behind what looks to be a
rock wall that may have been a full cave had he more time, and Alice is rushing behind it
when another shot grazes her leg.
Standing some distance from Eden and I is Conner looking slightly triumphant
holding his hologun and now focusing his attention on Flynt who watches helplessly.
Conner managed to take out two players alone and nearly two more. With our help, this
game could easily be turned around because of him.
He waves us over, saying, “Told you we didn’t need more snipers.”
For the first time this game, I feel a sense of relief and can’t help but smile. Eden and
I emerge from behind our trees and shift focus between the rock wall that Aksel and Alice
are hiding behind and Flynt who still has his hologun pointed at Conner. It’s now three vs
three.
That’s when everything changes. A loud sound dings, and the scenery before us
melts away and dissolves into nothingness. Soon, the forest is erased and replaced with a
big empty white room, and the lights above glow brighter, illuminating the holographic
training chamber. The scoreboard appears on a wall and reads “27 to 24,” with Flynt’s
team as the victors.
“What!?” Conners cries in outrage. “How can the time be up? We were only about
halfway into it!”
I realize that he’s right. The game shouldn’t be done yet. What is happening?
Again, the game designers seem to be toying with us, not allowing my team and I to win. A
firm yet emotionless male voice comes over the hidden intercom and instructs us to proceed
to the waiting room for the rematch. After a few more words are exchanged between the
other team and ours, we eventually all do as we’re told.
We aren’t allowed to talk once inside our darkened waiting rooms, so we eagerly
await the soft light to turn on signaling when we can discuss our next strategy. I stare ahead
at the black wall, watching for when the windows will be revealed so that I can see what
kind of playing field we’ll be on next. More time passes. The minutes tick by. Something
is off. I feel antsy and concerned, and I know my team is feeling it too. This isn’t right.
Then the door ahead opens. My reaction is to stand, but then I immediately feel as if
I stepped out of line. The game can’t be starting yet. We’ve always been able to talk
beforehand and to see what type of setting we’d be playing in. But not this time. Nothing
else happens as we wait a few more moments, and so we decide to walk on out.
The scene that greets me could not be more unexpected. It’s a city, a very large and
vast city filled with crowds of people, some young, some old, some with children and
babies, others walking dogs or carrying briefcases or shopping bags. Cars slowly drift by in
single file and stop at the traffic lights. A bike zooms by, causing the pigeons pecking at the
ground to fly up to perch on a windowsill. From somewhere in the distance it sounds like, I
hear sirens from what I know to be a police car. All of a sudden children rush past us and
toward the other end of the street where a small crowd is forming, leaving a circle in the
middle where a man is playing a guitar and people are dancing. I watch in amusement as
they all dance around so happily together and the guitarist sings in a lovely voice. The
people watching around in the crowd begin to clap to the rhythm of the music, and I feel
compelled to join them. I’m in awe for a long while as I take everything in. I begin to feel
as if I’m really a part of this world, forgetting completely about the hologame. I pass
between the people on the sidewalk and gaze up at the tall skyscrapers in child-like wonder.
The people walk casually around me and avoid walking into any of us, but they never meet
our gaze. It’s strange and amazing.
Suddenly, the same voice as earlier comes over the intercom and rips me away from
the mock reality of this world. I turn my attention away from the virtual people and look up
toward the sky, where it sounds like his voice is originating from and gasp. He only says
two words, but it stops me in my tracks and makes my blood run cold. My eyes narrow as I
turn to look at my teammates in horror at his demand: “Kill everyone.”
Four
Small Beginnings
“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,
doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”
– Edgar Allan Poe
Five
Hawk
“If human beings are fundamentally good, no government is necessary; if they
are fundamentally bad, any government, being composed of human beings, would
be bad also.”
– Fred Woodworth
Six
Cocoon
"The earth is the cradle of humankind, but one cannot live in the cradle
forever."
– Konstantin Tsiolkovsky
Seven
Baker’s Dozen
"All mankind is divided into three classes: those that are immovable, those
that are movable, and those that move."
– Benjamin Franklin
Eight
Flight
"What light is to the eyes, what air is to the lungs, what love is to the
heart, liberty is to the soul of man.”
– Robert Green Ingersoll
Sources
• http://www.subversiveelement.com/dulce_index.html
• http://www.sacred-texts.com/ufo/mj12_04.htm
• http://www.beyondweird.com/ufos/john_lear_letter_december_1987.html
•History Channel’s UFO Hunters – Episode 302: Underground Alien Bases