by Kody Boye
In the days following this message—which will be broadcast around the world in the dialect of its delivery—the Gray people will descend from the Mothership that is currently orbiting the highest parts of the Earth’s atmosphere. It will then distribute, via a series of smaller ships, Their civilian population. Their people number in the billions, and will assimilate into the major cities first in order to prepare for the expansion that humankind and Gray will require in order to coexist peacefully. Do not be afraid when They arrive. These people mean you no harm, and are no different than you. They are scared, lonely, but most importantly: They are homeless. Open your hearts, minds and souls to those who have less than you do and welcome Them with open arms.
Should you wish to oppose the expansion of the Gray people onto the planet Earth, your hostility will be met with equal force. Please be aware that Their technology is vastly superior to anything we as humanity have ever experienced, and we will be dealt with accordingly should we not comply with Their demands.
Finally, the world will begin to undergo a metamorphosis that will help to eliminate the adverse effects humanity has had on the planet. This includes, but is not limited to: the erasure of fossil fuels, the reclamation of land deemed fit to harvest these natural resources, the cleanup of our planet’s oceans, and the terraformation of certain landmarks in order to restore balance to what has been damaged.
The Gray people thank you for your support during this arduous time. They hope to make Earth a better—and safer—place to live.
Thank you.
When I turned to look at the Overseer with whom I’d had contact with over the past several days, it offered a nod and a semblance of what could have been a smile had its mouth been wider.
“You really think this will work?” I asked after a moment of considering the text before me.
“We believe it will,” the Gray said, closing the distance between us with a few steps of its short legs. “Humanity thrives on conflict and the resolution of it. Should we present a solution to the conflict, they should be more than willing to lay down their arms and accept us onto their planet.”
“You’re not considering the people who hate you with every fiber of their being.”
“Are you referring to people like yourself?”
It knew? But how? I hadn’t felt it probing at my consciousness the entire time I’d been onboard the ship, yet at the same time realized that reading the text had distracted me enough to where it could’ve easily infiltrated my mind.
Rather than lie and risk the repercussions that could arise because of it, I sighed and nodded. “Yes,” I said. “I’m referring to people like me.”
“Your hate is born out of misdirected anger.”
“My hate is born out of the fact that you abducted my father and had your Coyotes kill my mother and sister.”
“And for that we apologize. We cannot change what has already come to pass—only what can occur within the future.”
“Which is why I’m here,” I said with a nod. “To try and make sure the violence stops.”
“You are an admirable creature, Ana Mia Sofia Berrios.”
Was I, though? Was I really? Or was I just selfish in wanting this whole thing over?
Either way, it didn’t matter.
Now that I was here, I would do what was asked of me, regardless of my feelings toward Them or the matter at hand.
“All right,” I said, stepping toward the holographic screen that displayed the text that I was to read and that would soon be broadcast in my voice. “How do we begin?”
The Gray stepped forward and began to maneuver its hands in front of the holographic projector. “Whenever you are ready,” it said.
I nodded, closed my eyes, and inhaled a deep breath of air.
Then I began.
I was led to and sequestered within a small room not unlike the one I had previously been held in upon my initial ascent into the Harvester ship. Though it at one point had obviously been personal sleeping quarters, it had been repurposed as a storage room and contained several metallic boxes that crowded the space from one end to another. The only open spots within the room were where a simple mattress and several blankets and pillows lay in the center, as well as a small pathway to an alternate room at the side.
“This is where you will remain for the duration of your stay,” the Gray said.
“Will I have privacy?” I asked, turning to examine every facet of the room—from the claustrophobic lack of windows, to the chrome metaling that made up the inside of the space.
“You will not be disturbed, if that is what you are asking. The room to your side—” the Gray gestured to the single door that stood between a series of metal storage containers “—will be where you will perform your bodily functions. There is also running water for you to bathe.”
“I… wasn’t expecting all of this,” I said, both surprised and a bit confused over Their generosity. “Thank you.”
“You will remain with us for a number of days, if not weeks, in order to field responses from those who wish to communicate with us. Your comfort is our utmost priority.”
“That means a lot to me,” I said, stepping forward and then settling down upon the simple mattress that had most likely been harvested just for me. “Grayson… can I… can I ask you something?”
“You have seen fit to give me a name?” the alien asked.
“I need to call you something.”
“I understand. And yes—you are free to ask whatever you like.”
“The aliens… I mean, you… your people… They don’t all have the same thoughts, the same desires, the same whims… do They?”
“Do you mean to ask if we are a collective consciousness?”
“Yes.”
“No. We are not.”
“So the aliens that killed my family… that set the Coyotes on my mother and sister… you weren’t involved in that, were you?”
“This detachment was only lowered into the atmosphere when we were made aware that a Chosen One had been found.”
“So you mean to say that you weren’t behind the attack on Fort Hope?”
“Hope,” the Gray alien said, as if studying the word upon its thin and pale lips. It waited a moment, as though considering what it was I had just said in its depthless mind and intelligence, before shaking its head and saying, “No. I—we—were not.”
“Why attack the fort in the first place? Why not just try and reach out to us?”
“Those who attacked your home were callous and uncaring in regard for human lives. Our queen… she did not believe the actions taken upon your civilization were proper. Those who have committed those crimes have been dealt with accordingly.”
“So you do have a leader?” I asked. “Where is she?”
“In the ship that orbits the planet. She will descend with the rest of our people when the time is right.”
“I have… just one more question, before you leave.”
The Gray blinked, its action so sudden that it startled me. “Yes?” it asked.
“What are the Reapers, and why did you send Them onto the planet?”
“Reapers?” the alien asked.
“The white-skinned humanoids that look like us.”
At this, the alien had no reply. Instead, it simply turned and began to make its way toward the open threshold.
“Grayson?” I asked.
“Do not concern yourself with those matters,” the Gray said, its tone clipped and obviously unsettled at what I had just asked. “Only ask questions that are imperative to your mission as ambassador to the Gray peoples.”
“All… right,” I said, allowing the word to trail off in an effort to dispel the tension within the room. “Thank you for your time.”
“Should you require assistance, all you need do is ask. The rest of my people onboard the ship are learning your language. They will be able to assist when the time comes.”
“Thank you.”
The alien pa
lmed a panel outside the room and closed the door behind it.
Sighing, I spread out along the mattress, pulled the blanket up and around my shoulders, and closed my eyes.
I hadn’t expected such an adverse reaction to discussing the Reapers, which led me to wonder: what were They, and why did They look so much like us? They resembled us physiologically, but had been stripped of all Their defining attributes. Their faces, Their sexes, Their hair—all were gone, as if They were meant to look nondescript and uniform.
As if They were meant to look like the Grays.
As I considered this, and as I slowly began to drift off into the realms of sleep, I tried not to dwell upon what would happen next and realized, with complete and utter certainty, that I was as safe as I could possibly be.
With that in mind, I allowed my brain to fade away—into the realms where it could not be touched by neither man nor alien.
Sleep.
“How is this going to work?” I asked.
“Our broadcasting system is designed to work with all major radio frequencies,” the creature I had named Grayson said as it continued to work upon one of the holographic display panels that decorated the entirety of the vessel’s command bay. “Our ships will also project it in the skies above every known-to-be-inhabited area.”
“You know where the highest concentrations of people are?” I asked, frowning.
“We have been here for nearly seven years, Ana Mia. We know where almost all of humanity is.”
Though it was disconcerting to know that Asha, myself and even poor Jason hadn’t been as invisible as we’d thought we’d been, it was at least comforting in that my recorded message would be played in the areas where people happened to exist. Hopefully it would also sway people to lay down their arms and accept the inevitable.
I knew there would be divides. I knew there would be mixed feelings, opinions and even reactions. I knew that there would be people who would try to resist and die because of it, but I also knew that there would be people who would welcome it with open arms. Save the planet, they would say. We’re done with this insufferable war.
Others, like me, would be conflicted. They would think of all they had lost and be angry and scared, but on another hand would be nervous and hopeful that this would finally be the end of a reign of terror that had lasted for over half a decade.
Whatever happened in the coming days would be wholly dependent on how well my convictions had come across in my recording. I’d tried my hardest to sound sincere—tried to make it sound as though this was the best option for Planet Earth and its people—but I knew I couldn’t sway everyone. I knew, without a doubt, that there would be conflict, civil war, destruction of entire cultures and groups of people based solely on the fact that they would refuse alien habitation on their lands. But in the end, I’d done my best, and that was all I could do.
Directly over the skies of Austin, Texas, I waited for the first of the thousands, possibly millions of messages that would be played within the coming days with bated breath.
It began with the ship lowering its cloaking technology and then a bright light appearing just before the curve of the aircraft.
Shortly thereafter, a full-body projection of my person was revealed and my dialogue began. Planet Earth, I said.
I listened to the sound of my voice as it echoed like a long-lost god throughout the skies and into the streets below—and waited, with bated breath, for the people whom I knew were hiding inside their homes or making their way through the streets in their endless search for answers to turn and regard what played before them.
Though I was too high up to discern how many there were, I began to see them first on the roof of Burgundy hospital, then in the streets that separated the hospital from the rest of the suburban neighborhood. They came in droves, then—called by the sound of a human voice—and looked on as the holographic representation of myself told of the aliens’ plight. I explained Their cause, Their need, Their message to the world, then detailed what would occur within the coming days, my voice calm and strong and without fault. The sound alone was enough to inspire chills within my body, but the strength within it was what really got to me.
I could’ve never imagined tearing up at my own voice, yet I did.
My will—it showed in my voice: testament to the hope and fear and utter tragedy I felt while declaring that this conflict should be over.
By the time my holographic representation finished speaking, I was at a loss for words.
“Do you think it worked?” I asked after a moment’s consideration.
“Time will tell,” Grayson said, then reached forward and began to maneuver its hands around the holographic display. The ship began to move, then, shifting in the atmosphere until it turned and began to make its way south. We moved slowly, only occasionally stopping to allow other Harvester ships to move around us. Their numbers were staggering—frightening in that I knew They had been in the skies for so long and unnerving in that we would’ve never been able to see Them otherwise. They were ghosts—specters from another world—and knowing that They had been here all this time was enough to make my skin crawl.
Asha, Jason and I could’ve been tracked so easily.
If that were the case, then why hadn’t They just taken me while we were on the road?
“Grayson?” I asked as we resumed our course toward what I imagined would be my hometown of San Antonio.
“Yes?” the creature replied.
“If your ships were everywhere like They are now, then why didn’t you just take me when you had the chance?”
“We wanted you to come willingly. It would have served no purpose to take you against your will.”
I supposed not, but even then, it could’ve been solved so much more quickly, so much more simply, had They just taken me before all the violence had occurred. But even then, there was no telling if I would’ve cooperated with Them. Knowing me, I probably wouldn’t have. I would’ve fought and fought and fought until They’d have been forced to kill me, and what then? Would They have continued to wait for someone to be bitten, for someone to become Chosen? Or would They have taken everything by force?
I guessed, based on the limited understanding I had of Their situation, that it would’ve probably been the latter. Having starved on the road to Austin with Asha, I knew there was only so much a person could take before They would resort to extremes to get what They wanted.
As we continued to move toward what I believed to be San Antonio, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that I had made the right decision.
Cooperating had not only saved me, but would possibly save the planet as well.
San Antonio was the next stop on our list, followed by Corpus Cristi, then Laredo. We passed over the border to Mexico and witnessed droves of people come to watch as we hovered over the skies of Monterrey, during which time my voice—abnormally English considering my background—projected first in my native tongue, then in Spanish. How the latter was possible given that I’d never spoken it I was not sure, but nonetheless, it was my voice, regardless of how I’d recorded the message. And the people seemed to understand, because when they began shouting—either in anger or joy, I couldn’t tell—we started to move toward our next destination without pause.
This continued throughout the entire day.
When finally we stopped come nightfall, the cloaking technology came on and the ship ground to a complete halt.
“This is all that will occur today,” Grayson said, stepping away from the holographic display within the center of the room.
“Am I free to go to bed then?” I asked.
“You are,” the creature said.
With that, I turned and began to make my way down the hall and toward my personal quarters. Other aliens followed, but all kept Their distance from me. Why I couldn’t necessarily be sure. Perhaps They were being respectful, or maybe They were doing so simply out of distaste. Regardless, I didn’t care, because when I came to the room des
ignated as my own, pressed my hand over the panel beside the door, and stepped inside, I had only one thing on my mind.
Inside the washroom, I slipped out of my clothes and entered the sectioned-off area that had been designated as a shower. It took only a moment for me to decipher the holographic panel on the wall, as its language had been switched to English especially for my wellbeing, and the moment the hot water poured onto my body I sighed, feeling more bliss than I could’ve ever possibly imagined.
I scrubbed myself from head to toe, washed my hair, cleaned my teeth, rinsed free all the dirt and sweat that had covered my body for who knew how long.
By the time I emerged, I felt—and looked—like a completely different person.
As I looked at my reflection in the mirror—as I studied not only my Hispanic features, but the gold that was now overwhelmed my right brown eye—I felt more at peace with myself than I had in almost a week.
A week, I was fit to think.
This whole journey had begun little more than seven days ago. The attacks, my family’s deaths, our journey to Austin and now my quest for humanity’s salvation—
I closed my eyes as the steam warped around my body and shivered as I realized just how far I’d come in but a short amount of time.
“You can do this,” I mumbled to myself. “You’re strong. You can do this.”
Whether my mantra would work was yet to be determined, but after I dressed into a pair of fresh clothes I found waiting for me on the edge of the counter beside the sink and eerily-familiar-looking toilet, I made my way out into the room that had been designated as my own and settled down into bed, wrapping myself in the blankets as I turned to regard the space lit only a thin string of lights above me.
As I stared up at the orange and blue beads of light, I thought of Asha and how desperately I missed her—how I wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to sleep next to her without any fear in the world or what was in it.
