by G. L. Argain
Andrew did have a slight headache from everything that was happening, although he was slightly amused to hear that the person he was just talking to had a familiar-sounding name such as Lee. Even so, with Andrew’s paranoia boiling up again, he said, “Why? Are you afraid he might slip some secret out? That you know something that you don’t want me to know?”
Lee’s countenance had then added a hint of guilt and denial, as though he may know some secrets, but Juvir responded without any reaction that would show: “Even if we did have some secret that we would not tell you, it would be very difficult for someone such as you to comprehend.”
“That doesn’t exactly prove your words.”
“Then you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Andrew bent his head down and rubbed his forehead. He needed a break, and everyone could tell. Juvir said, “Alright, meeting adjourned. I will take responsibility for Andrew from here on out.” All the other people left by walking through the sliding doors and into some teleportation caches—one for each person—in the hallway.
“I’ll leave you here to give you a quick break. In the meantime, take this.” Juvir pulled out a pill, saying, “You are low on nutrients, so this will restore your body.”
“So, it’s just some kind of food pill?”
“Precisely. Judging by the size of your stomach, I will give these to you four times per ceth.”
“Okay, what? You’re flinging all these weird terms around and I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“My mistake, how would you say this….oh, six times per day.”
Andrew thought that if these pills were supposed to be his meals, then he wouldn’t need them as many as six times per day. Then again, these pills were the size of any other pills on Earth, so there could be no way that one of these could suffice for a decent meal.
“Once the pill hits your stomach acid, it will expand to a size large enough to sustain you for about….four hours.” Andrew’s thoughts had been answered instantly. “I’ll be back soon.”
Just as Juvir walked up to the doors, which had opened at his presence, Andrew interrupted him to ask another question. “Hey, who are you people, anyway? I know this has got to be part of some sort of organization, considering how you just had a ‘meeting.’”
Juvir turned his head around to answer: “We are The Alliance of Interstellar Beings, or the AOIB, for short.”
And so Andrew was left alone in the room with just a pill. He still wanted to ask where his sword was being kept at.
Chapter 3
Going back a few months, Andrew is living on his home planet. He resides in a suburb in Los Angeles, California—the place where American ideals are established, the kind that can never actually be achieved because they are so artificial. Women wanting to become so scrawny that the space between their ribs look like canyons. Men trying to gain so much muscle mass that people start to guess that they’re compensating for something. Andrew didn’t have much muscle tone, let alone muscle mass; add that on to the fact that he wasn’t fat and thus he’s labeled a skinny person. There’s one thing that American culture implies: men either look skinny, buff, or fat—not much else in between.
Celebrities are the representatives of anything that’s popular in a modern culture, as well as the culture’s ideals. Most of these representatives are found here in L.A., telling people indirectly that they’re not rich enough, that if you want a happy life, you should be making more money and caring less about whether it affects other people in doing so. That, along with the idea that you should go out to parties and drink alcohol until you want to throw up, followed by drug use and sex and other antics that everyone remembers the next day except for you. What exactly do they have to say that makes these things OK?
“We all need fun once in a while. You ought to live life to the fullest.”
Maybe, except that you forget how you may not face the consequences after doing something the first time, then you do it over and over again, up to the point where it seems you are desensitized, turning your life into an empty dream that you can’t escape from. Plus, one must think about all the other people that gave celebrities their privileges. Without their managers, their servants, their fans, and even their fellow celebrities, they would be the same as everybody else, struggling through life to achieve their wants and possibly even their needs.
At least, this is all what Andrew believed.
Of course, this isn’t the only place where artificiality comes from. Fast food advertisements make their food seem more appealing by spraying paint onto them. Not only is the food much more unattractive in reality, it never decays from bacteria or flies—they don’t want to get near the stuff. Consumer products leave some person’s pocket a few hundred dollars empty each year, just to end up as a decoration that has no concrete use anymore—or had never been useful. People all over the nation argue over which of two candidates they want to win for the upcoming presidential election. Usually, it ends up as the wrong choice either way, considering both candidates typically make empty promises to the people, ignoring the issues that ought to be taken care of the most. People trust their leaders because they expect them to make changes and solve the problems that people won’t resolve themselves; little do the public know that their leaders may be just as confused as they are about solving such problems.
Andrew is just tired of all this; he wants to see all the artificiality disappear so that he can drive to a small town and not have it feel similar to a large city. It used to be that in small towns, people were more relaxed and content than those enduring the havoc of the big city. In a way, that still remains—but not entirely. In both towns and cities, you will find billboards, television, Internet, and other sorts of media in which society’s representatives can make their influence. Not everybody looks at each advertisement and says, “I WANNA BUY THAT,” but the message still gets through unconsciously, almost like osmosis.
Andrew—at this moment in time—currently lives in Los Angeles so that he can get his college education at Cal Poly Pomona, where he studies for a good engineering degree. He was never as interested in engineering as he was in art and philosophy, but many people know that a philosophy student is not as likely to be successful. The former may wish that he or she didn’t have to sit in a cubicle several hours per day, but the latter will more than likely wish for a steady job in order to put food onto the table. You can’t seem to go anywhere in this world without money.
Perhaps once Andrew got his engineering degree, he could get a stable job, save up some money, and go on a road trip. A really long road trip. One that would take him through every state west of the Rockies and let him explore, experience all the scenic views that would delight his soul like nothing else had. He didn’t want to see gray skyscrapers—he wanted to see mountains, white from snow or green from vegetation. He didn’t want to see traffic lights once every hundred meters. He wanted to see an open, deserted highway on which he could drive for dozens of miles without seeing another soul. That person most likely wanted to get to a predetermined destination by a preset time, while Andrew would be going with the flow, taking in the view.
In the meantime, however, he would work at a minimum wage job, spending the rest of his time working on homework or applying for scholarships, never catching a break. He wasn’t as stressed out as some other people would be, mostly because Andrew was hard-working and did what he was told. Pomona wasn’t his first choice when he applied to several various universities, but it was the best choice once he got their responses. It was definitely better here in Pomona than it was in Searles, California. A small town in the middle of nowhere with nothing to do except school….not exactly the greatest place to live in. None of the people there even behaved like his idea of small town folks; everyone was buried in their smartphones, not knowing their neighbors’ names, not talking face to face much, and—most of
all—looking like they were unhappy with where they lived. Perhaps that’s what al
l places are like these days, interconnecting with modern technology. Always hoping to live it up where the grass is greener, never looking at life through the big picture. He liked the scenery around Searles, but trying to find a job was horrible. According to the town’s demographics, the unemployment rate was about 6%, but that was mostly because a lot of people worked at the factory plant north of town. If the survey excluded the factory workers, Searles would probably have fifteen—no, twenty percent unemployment. Andrew only had one job while he lived there: tutoring. Being a tutor didn’t even count much as a job, considering how he didn’t pull off much money from it. He once did community service in order to get some job experience, but it was confusing as hell—he wasn’t sure who to contact for whatever or whenever he had to do something. I’ll get a job once I’m eighteen, he said. I’ll do all the important stuff when I’m in community college, he said.
Andrew attended a junior college nearby Searles for about three years before transferring to Pomona. During this time, he entered a sort of neutrality, not seeming to feel everything like he used to. He felt emotionally stiff; he hardly cried when his childhood pet died, and he didn’t feel chills down his spine when he heard a lovely song. Even when something like this did happen, he was always expecting something more out of it, so he was continuously dissatisfied. At junior college, there were less peers that Andrew could befriend than in high school, and no one seemed to talk to each other outside of school hours unless they were friends in the first place. He knew he wasn’t alone—there were plenty of people at the college who became depressed after losing most of their friends. However, seeing that Andrew hardly had a social life and spent most of his time in front of his computer, he certainly felt alone. He wouldn’t talk through the Internet—he was strictly a face-to-face person because he was afraid of losing touch with the human world. Too bad the human world is already so attached to the Internet that it would benefit Andrew to talk to someone online.
At Pomona, Andrew has more friends than he did back at Searles, but his social life was still dead due to all the tasks he demanded to take. His validation stated, “I need to think about my future. If I don’t, then I might have as well not have gone to college at all.” The young adult plans on getting a Ph.D. in Engineering, even though that would mean spending several more years of his life in this same state. If successful, he would be working his ass off at some company to earn money for his family—if he had one. Andrew wants to have two children, one of which would be a boy who wanted to be just like his father—who would have to keep worrying about his future. It’s just a big cycle—a cycle of dreams and ideals that say one must be “successful” to be content.
Andrew doesn’t truly want to be successful, but rather to live through life without as many problems as possible. Money always seemed to be a problem. He doesn’t want to live this cycle: enduring childhood and getting good grades and applying to hundreds of jobs and working until you become too old to enjoy the things you wanted most in life.
Andrew wants a change. A massive change that would influence and benefit everybody, get them out of this cycle as well.
Luckily Andrew wasn’t insane enough to make this massive change himself, considering how most people don’t appear to enjoy accepting change and would hate him forever for doing something like that.
All Andrew could hope for was for the world to endure some sort of apocalypse, where the people who survived worked together to make something better out of the world. Although, it is entirely possible that the survivors would turn everything back to the way it was, maybe even worse.
When the latest “doomsday” was set on December 21, 2012, Andrew saw this as a possibility for his dream to come true. No more celebrities. No more fast food. No more Internet. Many people would cry in horror from losing these things, but Andrew didn’t mind. All he wanted was to keep the cars—or at least the bicycles—as well as the landscape so he could explore the world. Unfortunately, the closer the date became, the less likely it seemed the apocalypse would happen. There was nothing in the world or anything surrounding it that looked like it was going to end soon. Everyone was just getting ready for Christmas like they do every year.
On December 20th, Andrew drove his car nearby some mountain several miles away from Searles, hiked up the mountain, waited for the sunset, and screamed at the top of his lungs once the big orange light in the sky disappeared. He didn’t care who heard, yet at the same time he did. He just felt that there were very few places in the world where he could express his emotions without judgment.
And so it didn’t happen. The world didn’t end, and everything stayed the same as it always would. Andrew didn’t change much either, although you can bet he was rather disappointed. He didn’t think about killing himself, however; he felt empty, not depressed. He decided to keep on living in this world, not caring whether the cycle would ever change in his lifetime or not.
Chapter 4
Back to the AOIB meeting room.
Andrew Lockeford stared down at the pill he had in his hand, still thinking whether it would be a trap or not. It was a small white sphere that felt heavier than lead. From a distance, it appeared bland like any other pill, but when he brought it up to his nose to smell it, he instantly jerked back. The pill smelled strong and unusual; it had a mixture of sweet smells and fried food smells and even some sour and bitter smells that altogether smelled absolutely inconceivable, both good and bad. Now he was less likely to take the pill, knowing that it would taste even stronger than it smelled, and that would be a hell of a load upon his gag reflex. Eventually, however, Andrew decided to take the pill. He didn’t care what the aliens were planning to do to him. He’s had enough change at this point. And as he swallowed the pill as though he was committing suicide, he discovered that his gag reflex did not react like he thought it would, but his taste buds indeed reacted violently. He had chills down his spine, his entire mouth almost felt cold from the sensation, and he could feel the pill every step down through his esophagus.
“Holy….shit, that was more than I expect—BRRUUAAAAAAAAAAAAP”
As the pill contacted his stomach acid, it expanded to the size of a baseball and forced all the air out of his stomach. He instantly felt full as though he ate a meal.
“I guess that guy was right.” He was shaking at this point, with adrenalin running throughout his body even though the danger was well over. Then it occurred to him: Oh God, what if they’re just gonna torture me here until I die from absolute stress? What if they’re really just like those other freaky bastards?!? It was then that Andrew’s primal instincts took over and he ran for the doors. There was no way that he would want to stay any longer. Unfortunately, the doors didn’t open and he slammed straight into them, bouncing back like from something out of a cartoon due to the doors’ physical reaction.
One should remember Newton’s Third Law from science class: “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.”
Andrew barely escaped a concussion, but his head was throbbing painfully for a few minutes. Juvir came back in after those few minutes with a smart remark: “Too bad the doors didn’t open for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, just tell me what you came here for. But first, where’s my fucking sword?!?”
“It’s right here in my hand. How can you be so silly not to see?”
Andrew looked at Juvir’s hand and, indeed, the sword was there. He was amazed to see it back, but he was even more amazed to realize how stupid he’s been lately. First he fails to see what happened to his clothes, now this. Either he’s having a hard time getting this alien environment into his head or, when he was flying through space in the escape pod, he bumped his head into the wall of the pod. Could be both.
“Oh, wow, I can’t believe you actually got it back for me. It looks like it hasn’t been damaged, either,” said Andrew. At least this guy Juvir was pretty trustworthy. He also had to note how even-tempered and unbiased he had been. “Thanks a lot! I really mean it!”
He had finally calmed down since the thought of being tortured by aliens had left his mind.
“The scientists and I saw it laying beside you in the pod, and we kept it until we were sure you could have it back. It seems very old, almost as though your species had created it. And yet it seems so familiar.”
“My species had nothing to do with this sword—I had found it and, well, took it while I was on an alien ship.”
The sword definitely did not look ordinary. The blade was divided into six segments, one being slightly smaller in width and thickness than the next; the segments collapsed into each other, similar to a toy lightsaber. The cross-section of the blade was shaped like a sideways teardrop rather than a rhombus. The safe end of the blade—the rounded curve of the “teardrop”—was made of a different material than the steel of the sharp end. The handle and the hilt were very familiar to Andrew, however, since they looked the same as most other handles and hilts on Earth swords. The steel on the sword had rusted from old age, but not so much that it would lose its sharpness. There was another feature to this sword, one that was activated by a button on the handle, but Juvir had deactivated it.
“By the way,” Andrew continued, “you mentioned scientists, right? Whom are you talking about?”
“Two scientists watched your escape pod land and they decided to take you in for analysis. We debated whether we would even keep you here, considering you’re one of the forbidden species.”
“What? How am I forbidden?”
“Your planet, Earth, is still young and full of natural life, and we were worried that if any of us from the AOIB had gone over there, we would corrupt the natural development of your species. Planets ought to develop at their own pace.”
“I don’t know what this planet looks like, or what anything looks like outside of this room. In fact, maybe you should just tell me everything about this place so I can get up-to-date.” Andrew said this as though he was trying to command Juvir, though he sounded weak.
