by Loki Renard
The alien gives them a violent look which makes them fall silent. He has gravitas. I admire that, though of course I loathe him and his kind. I’m not entirely sure what his kind are, but I have enough loathing packed away inside me for use on any occasion. I don’t need knowledge when I have ample hate ready to be deployed.
He comes closer and I see him for more of the monster he is. Aliens run my world. That truth is only just starting to sink in now, and I can feel it will take several days to truly become part of my actual reality. These beasts of teeth, claw, and blade have been making every decision which shapes my world for I do not know how long. How dare they?
I have so many words in store for him. I will not allow myself to be intimidated by his massive form, or become afraid of his fearsome physicality. I am Karen, and if I know how to do anything, it is complain, harangue and generally lecture until I get my way.
“So,” he says. “You're the troublemaker.”
I draw back, look down my nose, and give him the benefit of the full force of my offense. The basket gives me the height to do that, set as it is on a raised platform. Probably a counter. This is, after all, the laundry room at the end of existence, where things come to be cleansed. I haven’t been told that explicitly, but it seems to be a safe assumption.
There is a sense of chaos here, a disconnection between the massive alien with the fiery eyes and the broad smiled, round headed smaller creatures which must do his bidding, however inefficiently. He does not belong here. He is out of place here among the discarded laundry. Uncomfortable with a world which cannot be his own.
He approaches the basket, reaches in, and plucks me out as if I weigh no more than a kitten. His hand is massive, just like the rest of him. He is covered in the same sharp blades I saw on the other creature of his kind. They retract as my body swings near in an evident attempt to avoid hurting me. I appreciate it.
He places me down on the ground with what I can only describe as an abundance of care, then looks down at me with a curious expression, as if appraising me. I do not know what an alien might make of me. I know what I make of him. He’s massive, brutal, warlike in appearance and I surmise, temperament. He is everything a human should fear, but I am Karen, and I fear nothing.
“I’m Karen,” I say. “I have some complaints regarding the management of this…” I struggle for a word for a moment, not sure how to describe the collapse of my entire existence “…world.”
“Oh, you do?” He folds his massive blade ridden arms over his chest and cocks his head to the side, his horns twitching forward as if to indicate interest. “Please, do enlighten me.”
“For one, you cannot gather everybody on a Tuesday afternoon and tell them reality isn't real. It’s not nice.”
“Not nice,” he says, as if making a mental note. “Mhm. Do go on.”
I draw myself up, trying to make myself tall, but there’s no way to come up any higher than his ribs. I am not a tall woman. I never have been. That has not stopped me lecturing everyone from policeman to politicians.
“It’s not only not nice. It's incompetent. Do you know how afraid people were? There was panic in the streets.”
“Panic in the streets," he repeats, nodding again.
I get the impression I am not being taken seriously. I know when I am being patronized. It is a mistake many male authority figures have made when trying to handle me. I, however, am immune to being patronized.
“You say you're the manager, and all you can do is repeat what I say? Are you a manager or a parrot?”
“Neither," he says.
“Well these minions of yours seem to think you are. I'd like to speak to the actual manager. The person, or horned beast in charge of this excuse for a planet.”
He makes a small grunting sound, then leans down toward me so my face is very near his, and his is very near mine.
“I am scythkin,” he growls. “We are the scourge of the universe, slayers of species, destroyers of worlds, and we do not take orders from humans named Karen.”
“I haven’t even begun to give you orders.”
My feet make an unscheduled departure from the floor as he grips me under the arms and holds me aloft, much like a small lion cub being presented to a menagerie of wild beasts. Except the only beasts here are the round headed grin factories who now dare laugh at me.
“Small human woman,” he growls, giving me the full benefit of an up close and personal examination of his flame red eyes, harsh bladed body, and horns which I see now gleam with sharpness as if waiting to gore someone. “You will learn to speak with respect.”
Words fail me.
I have been trying to cling to my old way of being, to find the deep well of Karen-ness which resides inside me and makes me who I am, but I am scared of him. How could I not be? He is an unknown monster who has hold of me and seems infuriated by my comments. A sensible person would be quiet, but a sensible person would have sulked back to their apartment and waited for the aliens to make everything okay again. I’m not sensible. I’m Karen.
He lowers me to the ground, slowly letting my feet touch the floor before he lets me go. I breathe out, a long exhalation, and I resort to the question at the core of my being, my own personal koan which has guided me through life.
“Who is your manager?”
“Who is my manager?” He repeats the question, confused. I suppose I will have to clarify what I mean.
Tyank
“You’re not the manager," she says. “You’re not management material.”
How does she know that I am not first hatched? For a moment, when I first grabbed her, I saw fear in her eyes. Then it switched to something else, a sort of lip curling disdain. This woman has untold power. I can sense it burning inside her. The short blonde cut of her hair frames a face of pure determination, and her eyes burn with a fury equal to any scythkin.
She is older than the other humans I have had contact with, but that does not diminish her beauty or appeal. It deepens it. My broodkin have claimed easier females. Broken, desperate little things who were strong in their own ways, but none who dared challenge our kind the way this woman does.
“I am very much the manager, human,” I tell her.
“Then you need to answer some questions.”
“Sure, what questions?”
“Such as… “ she seems to be searching for a thought. “Such as… How dare you!?”
“How dare I what?”
“How dare you come to our planet, and…”
“Have you not understood yet? This isn't your planet. This is a simulation made to look something like a planet so you can live here without freaking out. This is a zoo for humans.”
“Except for when one of you stands in the middle of the city center and shows his monstrous self to the world…”
“There's no world. There's a simulated disc with a plug hole in it.”
"That's not acceptable.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
She looks around, as if trying to find inspiration for her next complaint, while simultaneously trying to process what she’s been told. It is not easy for humans to come to terms with illusions, even though most of them happily construct their own and live inside them anyway.
I suppose it’s different when the lie you live inside isn't your own.
“I want to go to the real Earth,” she says, her eyes flashing as if she has just made a good point.
"You can’t. It exploded through time and now bits of it are sort of everywhen.”
“Everywhen?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Of course you don’t,” I smile down at her. She can’t possibly understand everything that has happened while she has been trapped in an ageless simulation.
“Let me explain. The human world, as you knew it, in this particular timeline, exploded several years ago. However, you, my dear Karen, were taken from the original planet many hundreds of years ago b
y an alien corporation known as Galactor. They took a select number of humans and sprayed the rest of the planet with a mutagenic agent.”
“That’s not possible. I’m only 45.”
“You’re closer to four hundred and forty five,” I tell her.
“I am not! You take that back!”
“You have lived hundreds of lives inside this simulation.”
“I think I would remember that.”
“You would not. We can reset the human mind. It’s just a meat computer. Your memories can be created, erased, entirely fabricated, partially disassembled…”
“You're lying.”
“I am absolutely not. I will show you all of that and more, now that you are behind the veil. In addition to your punishment, you will learn.”
Karen
“My punishment?” The term catches me off-guard and sends a tremor of excitement racing to the parts of me which haven’t felt much in the way of tremors in a very long time. It is no secret that I adore authority. I have tried many times to become authority. In the real world, or what I now know to be a simulated lie, I became an officer of the rules, a bureaucrat capable of imposing regulations on anything I saw fit. It was a glorious existence which has now been cut tragically short.
The alien with the horns does his best to scowl at me, but I can tell this is not his natural demeanor. There is a lightness to this dark creature, a balance to his monstrosity. Some are called to management. Others have management thrust upon them. I sense he is in the latter category.
“You were removed from the simulation for being a disruptive influence. I will punish you and decide your fate when you have been rehabilitated.”
“That can’t be legal.”
“Everything is legal when you make the law,” he says, flashing a sharp smile.
“That's called a dictatorship.”
“Call it what you want, it’s not acceptable.”
“It’s not?” He cocks his head to the side and gives me a fanged smirk.
There is something about this not-a-man who is not a man which gets right under my skin. He’s not taking this seriously. Somehow, I doubt he has ever taken anything seriously. I, on the other hand, take everything seriously.
“You have no right to punish me. I’ve always followed the rules to the letter. And I’ve always done what was right. Now I’m supposed to simply accept your alien brutality, believe that my world is a lie? That my eyes don’t tell me the truth? Let you hurt me for your sick satisfaction? No!”
“Such a brave little thing," he says. “You remind me of a puppy yapping.”
“You remind me of six feet of bullshit all piled on top of itself.”
“Eight feet," he growls.
So he is sensitive about his height. Not so different from a human man after all. For all the horns and the flaming eyes and the muscular power… I swallow as a revelation passes through the core of me. I am somewhat attracted to this beast. Perhaps it is the fact that I haven't been with a man for a very long time. Or maybe fear leads to arousal. Whatever it is, I can feel the wetness growing between my thighs. Usually I would deal with the matter by myself in the dead of night, beneath the covers of my single bed.
"You're very beautiful," he says, suddenly. The compliment catches me off guard, coming as it does after my rather crude insult.
“I am not. Don’t lie to me. You can't flatter me.”
“You are very beautiful," he repeats. “You have an uncommon fortitude in your face and eyes. Most humans are soft. You are hard.”
“Most people just call me a bitch.”
“Like the female dog?”
“Yes.”
“Humans say a lot of stupid things," he says. I find myself agreeing with him.
“They don't appreciate strength in women, especially women of a certain maturity,” he continues. “They want softness and compliance, the pillowy wetness of females yet to truly live. But not I. I like to see strength in a female. All scythkin do.”
“What about your own females?”
"Scythkin matriarchs lay their clutches on conquered planets, then fight to the death defending them from other matriarchs. They don’t make good romantic companions. They expect you to spray your seed on their eggs and get out of the way.”
He sounds almost mournful.
“So you…” I almost hesitate to say it. “You must be lonely.”
An interesting expression passes over his face. It is a mixture of acknowledgement, confusion, anger, and relief. It passes quickly into a more controlled state.
“Loneliness is not common to our kind. We usually travel in the same groups we were hatched in. I am part of a clutch of many dozens of my kind. But ruling over the simulation changes that. I am here alone.”
“I ruled over my simulation alone,” I say. “It was an apartment, but… I was alone most of the time. People don’t like me very much.”
The last thing I expected to do today was relate to a massive alien stranded running a simulation of humans, but I suspect I am going to have to revise my expectations for the contents of any given day going forward.
We gaze at one another, the way people do in movies. Time stretches out into a small eternity as we simultaneously wonder if we might have finally met what some people would call “the one”. I feel magic in the air which intangibly crackles with tension and possibility.
“I still need to punish you,” he intones. “You broke the rules.”
“If I broke the rules, then I suppose you’ll have to…”
“Punish you. That's what I've been saying.”
“Yes,” I smile. “Punish me."
I no longer fear this alien, or his punishment. If he was going to hurt me, he wouldn't need to talk to me. He would just do it. I can see that nature made him to be violent, but he is making the choice not to be with me. I don’t think he's going to hurt me. I think he’s bored. I think he's lonely. I think he's been waiting for a woman just like me.
“Krave put his human in a cell,” Tyank says, as if I’m supposed to know who Krave is. “But it didn’t work, and I don’t think it will work with you either. You, Karen, need a more personal touch.”
Oh yes. I want to be touched personally. I want to be touched all over, long and hard. I want to be taught the lessons this alien has in store for me. I want him to make me sorry, and I want him to make me his. These are intense feelings for a non-human creature I only just met, but instinct is telling me that this is the reason I always found human males wanting. They were put off by my abrasive behavior. They feared a strong, independent woman who did not need them. They didn’t like it when I’d harangue service staff over cold soup. But this alien will not care about any of those things, I’m willing to bet.
“So, how will you teach me a lesson?”
"What would you do, in my position?”
“What would I do if I were an alien with horns who runs the entire world in the form of a simulation, controlling the lives of the inhabitants at his whim? Hm. I’d be very happy.”
Tyank smirks at me. “So that is what you are hungry for, Karen. Power?”
“Maybe.”
"I don’t think so,” he growls softly. "I think what you really want more than anything is to have power taken from you. To be at the lustful mercy of a male who can handle you, who isn’t afraid of you. I've seen your file, Karen. You’ve terrified every man you've ever met. Including the one who called himself your husband."
He knows too much about me. I hate the reference to Keith. We were married for three months a lifetime ago. He left me for another woman, one he’d been cheating on me with the entire time we’d been engaged.
“If you want me to be lustful, mentioning my ex is a bad move,” I scowl.
“You still care about him? Keith?”
I cringe at hearing his name. I have done my best to forget Keith and yet here we are, discussing him.
“I don't care about him. I hate him.”
“Would it please y
ou to know he remains captive inside a simulation while you alone know the truth?”
“I don’t alone know the truth, your friend told everybody the truth. They didn't want to hear it. They asked to be made to forget.”
“True,” Tyank says. “Humans like to avoid discomfort where possible. But not you, Karen. You move toward it. You court it. You choose it again, and again, and that makes you different.”
Is that admiration in his voice? He is supposed to be punishing me, and I am supposed to be complaining to him, but neither one of us seem to be doing what we are supposed to be. This is all very irregular. I rather like it.
“You don’t know me,” I say, more or less just for something to say.
“I reviewed your records, Karen. I told you that. I know you as much as anybody can.”
I have to say I am impressed with his general efficiency. The brutality of his appearance belies a creature who does his homework. I am intrigued. I am also very much behind the curve. I don’t know anything about Tyank, besides he is the alien in charge of the lie which I have inhabited for a very long time. Curiosity and desire war within me. I can't stop looking at him. He’s so powerful, and the way the sharp ridged blades rise and fall over his body is mesmerizing as he flexes with what appear to be subconscious movements. I reach out to touch one on his arm. He flinches away, but it is too late. There is blood on my finger where the blade sliced me, so sharp I didn’t even feel it.
I look at the beading red fluid. So I am still human. Still real. Even if nothing else is.
“Why did you do that?!" He growls, his brows drawing down over his eyes, his entire demeanor becoming immediately stern.
I have no answer for him.
Taking my wrist in his hand, he marches me from the laundry basket room through a series of halls. “That was very foolish," he lectures. "I am dangerous. Can you not see that? We are designed to kill. You should not touch me without warning, little human.”
I note that he has retracted all the sharp surfaces across his body. He looks strange without them, like a bearded man does when he shaves.
“Would somebody bring me human bandages!” He shouts the order and the little round headed big mouthed creatures spring into action like sprites, appearing seemingly out of nowhere to do his bidding.
