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My body tingles as it writhes on the ground. The whole Earth beneath me feels as if it is vibrating, it’s static permeating my every cell. There is wetness around my lips. Is this a seizure? My hand clutches at my shirt. Is my heart beating? I don’t feel it. Where am I? The sun overhead is white and hot, whiter than the clouds, and it drills its beams into my eyes. Is this hell?
I hear a voice yell “Back away from him!”, my head rolling on the concrete to face it. It is a tall, humanoid figure covered in some kind of armor, trimmed with a blue glow, a plated tail swaying behind it as it comes closer. I cannot see what I imagine is a terrifying visage behind its mask. Attached to its hip is a sidearm, looped around its shoulder, a rifle of some extraordinary make, in its hand, a small case.
The street is completely decimated. The buildings around me black, ashened and gone. Spires of metal twisted out of form, jagged and bent and useless. I hear the screech of something fast fly through the air, a silver blur followed by a thin line of grey smoke, already dissipating.
I cough and sputter, gasping for air. I’d scream if my lungs allowed it. The beast is peering down at me. It presses something metal to my throat and I feel it stab into my skin, I feel the rush of fluid enter me, flowing through my flesh and reaching for my brain.
My eyelids flutter once, twice, and then-
A light at the end of a tunnel. I feel nothing in my body. The room is quiet, an IV standing over me, a cracked ceiling spanning over that. I weakly close my eyes.
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I’m standing on a sidewalk, waiting. I’m idly looking down at a sewer grate. There is dripping coming from below. The shuttle ought to be here any minute now. I’ve been waiting and waiting.
I look down at my watch. It’s one of the few things I had on my person when I first arrived here. It’s not great for accurate time keeping, but it does give me a general idea of how long I’ve been waiting. About 20 minutes. The days are longer here, much longer. 29 hours, 11 minutes, and some increment of seconds that I’ve forgotten. Usually when I go to sleep, it’s still light out. If I’m lucky, I’ll feel like a kid in summer again. But there’s no summer here. Apparently it’s like one long spring followed by a brief winter. There’s no autumn, either.
I feel the rumble of the approaching shuttle which snaps me back to reality. I take my card out of my pocket and get ready. I look from side to side. There’s no one around. The shuttle stops next to me, its doors open. It is covered in dents and scorch marks near the front. Beneath its ragged exterior is a pale white body with blue highlights.
I step on, scan my card, and take a seat. There is no driver to greet me, the shuttle is purely automatic. I look down the alley I was standing near, checking to see if there really was anyone lurking nearby. It doesn’t seem like it.
It’s been two months, and today is the day I can reload my arriving citizen card. The past few days were getting a little hairy in terms of funds. Every two months I have to go to the welfare office, confirm my identity, and get a top up.
A deep ringing sound echoes through the shuttle, and it quickly slows to a stop. I’m jerked out of my seat as the shuttle sways to the side of the road. A moment later, an armored vehicle rockets past us and the journey resumes a moment thereafter. I hear an explosion in the far distance.
I wonder what this place looked like before the war. I’ve seen pictures, but I’ve always found those don’t do the world justice. I’d seen pictures of New York City, too, but there was nothing quite like standing in it for the first time.
Few of the buildings in this city are pristine. There are more toppled and unusable than there are untouched. I try not to go near them if I can help it. The technology here is very advanced, compared to that of my home, but it is constantly in a state of disrepair. The fallen buildings freak me out, and I sometimes feel like a turn of the century peasant who’s never seen electricity before. I feel as if some errant glow from one of those many towers will eradicate me from existence.
When the war first started, the Opposition did everything it could to ruin valuable infrastructure. One night there was a blackout that left this place completely defenseless. Sometimes I’m amazed that anything is still standing here. There was a massacre, and life changed dramatically. That’s what I’m told, anyway.
No stars. No moon. No light.
I hop off the shuttle in the place which reminds me of most of home. In front of me is a giant intersection, mostly untouched by the war, tall buildings standing along wide sidewalks, and wider streets. There are many individuals coming and going, government workers, military, and human alike. The New Arrivals Bureau is across the street. I need to-
I feel a hand grasp my shoulder as I’m about to cross. Standing behind me is a behemoth of a woman, covered head to toe to tail in dull gray armor, glowing blue along its segments. “Spotcheck.” She says, her voice crackling, practically sparking with every word. She is holding out a device.
I calmly take out my card. “Yes Ma’am.” I make sure to speak clearly. I place the card against it for a few seconds, like making a transaction with a debit machine back home. She takes the device and inspects its reading. I hold out my palm for what is coming next.
She lowers it and an invisible light shines down on me. I feel a deep tingling in my flesh. It reminds me of when I put my hand in a microwave as a kid.
“What brings you here today?”
“A card reload, Ma’am.”
“Are you assigned?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Date of arrival?”
“Celliary 15th, 2139.”
“Current address?”
“Housing district 5, building 18, room 29-3.”
“That’s the one they just finished working on, isn’t it?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
She places the device in its holster on her side.
“Alright, move along.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
I make my way to the bureau without any more hassle. It’s not unlikely to be stopped twice in this part of the city, my own personal record being 3 on the way in, and 1 on the way out. I look up and see the tall flags waving proudly over the buildings. The flags are blue, red, and black, with streaking lines like claw marks throughout. The sun is shining, but everything feels so dark.
After an hour-long wait, it’s finally my turn. I’m greeted by my caseworker and sit with her. She is a gaunt, lizard like woman with pale blue scales covering her large body. Despite her massive size, she is nothing compared to the soldiers.
I confirm my identity, as I would with any spotcheck. The DNA scanner here is much larger than any handheld unit. Its main body stands in the corner of the room, and looks like a server rack you’d find in silicon valley. A common method of disruption by the Opposition is via identity theft. Their threat is unwavering, and looms over everyone all the time. The State’s defensive tools don’t work forever, of course. Workarounds are found, and every scan she takes could be the last. I see it in her eyes, she’s dreading the day it gives a false positive. For all I know, it could be happening already. Oh God. I can’t remember the last time I heard of a doppelganger being caught in a spotcheck.
“How have you been holding up?” She asks.
“Ok. I think I’d be happier if I had a job.”
Drearily, she looks at the screen next to her. “Yes, honey. I know.” She frowns at whatever figures she’s mulling over. “It’s going to be difficult. We’re expecting an influx of new arrivals next month.” She turns back to me. “You like to read, don’t you?”
“Yes Ma’am.”
She smiles warmly. “Well, it’s low on the priority list at the moment, but if they start repairs on the district 2 library, I might be able to-” She makes a little motion with her hands, her claws swiping gently through the air. “Bump you up towards the top of the list when it opens.”
Whatever little spare money I have goes towards buying books or visiting functioning libraries on the far side of the city. “I would love that.”
“Now. Before you go, we have to talk about assignment.” Her face, her snout has taken on a glum quality.
I say nothing.
“I know you’ve previously said that you’re against it, but I strongly recommend you reconsider. Your income will increase immediately, even if you don’t get assigned for months, and honestly-” She stops herself. She’s not the type to rub salt in the wound, especially against people she likes.
“I can’t go home. I know.”
“It’s unlikely. Making a life for yourself here, it’s not the worst thing in the world. You’ll be happier with someone by your side. And believe me, you’ll be, well- increasing morale, so to speak.”
“Is my card ready?”
“Please, just think about it, ok?”
“My card?”
“Yes, it’s ready.”
“Thank you for your input, Ma’am. I’ll be going now.”
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Despite all their advancements, this place is vulnerable to the Opposition’s method of terrorism. They have advancements of their own. While the State utilizes technological wonders, unlike any I’d ever seen, those on the Outskirts rely on what is known as “Primordial Forces” to exact their will upon the world.
The Opposition is the reason I’m here in the first place. The war took a drastic turn when they learned how to pull vessels of great power from alien planes.
According to intelligence gathered, the blackened night was fueled by over 50,000 foreign souls. Disposable people burned away to a substance finer than ash and lighter than air.
I and the vast majority of other New Arrivals are here because it was the intention of the Opposition to use us as a kind of gasoline for their mechanisms of war.
I am reminded every day that the evil of the Opposition does not stop at using people like me as a source of might. When the state first discovered what they were doing and the imminent threat that they were faced with, they poured their efforts into stopping the flow of new arrivals from entering Opposition territory. Within a month they had devised a way to obscure the Opposition’s grasp on those alien worlds.
Rather than manifesting in the heart of a furnace, I appeared in a city long abandoned over one hundred miles away.
The process of bridging the divide between worlds is incredibly painful and damaging to the body. I’m lucky to be alive.
As I ride the elevator to the floor of my new home, I pull out a thin piece of paper from my pocket. It’s a five dollar bill, blue and crisp in my fingers. It’s the only thing I had on me besides my clothes when I was summoned here. It was a warm summer’s day and I was going to buy an ice cream at the shop around the corner.
In hindsight, I find it surprising that the state did not kill me upon my arrival. Or better yet, save the ammunition and simply let me die on the spot. If they had, I’d have thought that I was hit by a car and died with the impression that I was looking up at the Earthly sun.
I wonder all the time why I am still alive. The State doesn’t even use me for slave labor. The Opposition, of course, knows this. They know that the State does not dole out cruelty to its citizens or refugees. Their policy is that they’d rather another hundred mouths to feed than even one person set alight for the Opposition.
I know how much of a parasite I am in the State, as does the Opposition. At this point in the war, they know that putting their resources into universal harvesting is the best approach for success. Every single person they successfully grab increases their power immensely. The State cannot allow that, and so it pours resources into counter operations, which then drains its resources further.
Every person summoned by the Opposition is either a battery for them, or a leech for the State.
Ding.
I step off the elevator and enter my new home. It’s quite small. Everything I need is all in one compact room, and yet even so it somehow feels so extravagantly spacious.
I open the curtains and gaze out upon the city. To the west are charred ruins, once proud buildings toppled and gone. To the east is a protective barrier, shielding the residential district. To the north is the most unscathed area for miles, the center of governance and military.
Maybe I really should apply for assignment. Would it really be so bad? To be entangled with one of these women. They’re human enough, aren’t they? It’s been nearly a year since I’ve seen a human woman. Are they really so different? From what I gather, they are a very affectionate race.
I open my fridge and take out a bottle of water. All the bottles here are glass, and are made so perfectly that the first time I picked one up it nearly slipped through my fingers and shattered on the floor. I rubbed my thumb along the sheer surface and uncap it gently. Wait… Can they shatter? I wouldn’t be surprised if they couldn’t.
The water is so cool and refreshing, and the bottle refracts the sun’s light in such a way where it takes on a cool blue color.
I miss the blue of my world. I look for it everywhere. The sky here is light grey, by comparison. It has some errant coloring mixed in, but it’s far from what I’ve come to know and love back home.
Far away from my blue marble world.
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My eyes open slowly as I hear the sound of overwhelming lightning. I sit up on my bedding and look out the window at the green lightning appearing and disappearing in the sky. My wrist turns slightly, going to reach for my watch sitting on the floor next to me. There’s no point. It won’t give an accurate time, after all.
The lightning curls and bends in the air, with no apparent interest in reaching the ground. It’s trying to form a circle. A gateway from the outskirts to the city. This happens once or twice a week. I’ve learned to ignore it and hope that whatever they intend on sending through never reaches us.
After several minutes of trying, the lightning stops its strike and limps home, defeated.
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I woke up the following morning in my usual haze. I used to hope beyond hope that it was all a long, nasty dream, and that I’d be in my own bed again. In the first week of being here, the mattress I slept on really did feel like the one I was used to. But that illusion is easily broken with a little rousing.
I check my food reserves in my fridge. I have two bottles of water and one meal which is packed tightly in a little rectangular box, about the size of a stick of butter. These packages come in sets of six and are very nutritious. Honestly, I’ve felt pretty good since I’ve started eating them. Balanced, and healthy.
I take out my last ration and set it on a plate in the, well, I forget the name of it. It’s like a microwave. It’s a box that I put my food in and it comes out heated and ready to eat. I close the door and a red light comes on. I uncap a new bottle of water and take a swig. After a silent minute, the box shines a blue light and I open the door. The ration’s wrapping is gone, and instead there is a large helping of breakfast-like food.
On the plate are greyish-brown cylinders of what I hope is real meat that remind me of sausages, and on the side is a helping of bright yellow fluffy stuff which looks but does not at all taste like eggs. Towards the edge of the plate are two white, flat, perfectly square slices of ‘bread’.
Thankfully you can tailor order your food supplements to include whatever you want. If I hurry, I’ll be able to place my order now and pick it up before I get hungry in the evening. I try to replicate as many Earth dishes as I can. I tried hard to make pizza work, but I just can’t seem to make it happen. Oh well.
It’s always best to buy food before you need to buy food. I’m glad I never had to learn that the hard way here.
The food market is usually quite busy. There are multiple stations where I can get my premade rations, and some places that sell organic food, food that could spoil if you leave it for too long.
I’ve never had any before. At first, because I wanted to avoid it. It was far too unfamiliar to me. Now I avoid it because it’s simply out of my budget, and by extension, my reach. There’s one fruit here that I’ve consistently heard is one of the most delicious things a human could taste. Something so good that it stops the pain of being away from home for a short while.
I put my card in a terminal and place an order for some assortments I’d programmed months ago. Enough to get me through a couple weeks, but not too much to carry home. I hear giggling to my left and I glance over.
There is a human male sitting on the lap of a gargantuan alien woman on a bench, her scales glistening under the weak white tones of the sun. They are idly kissing. There is a big bag of food sitting next to them, fresh produce poking out the top. I see the guy’s hand reach for her chest and I look back at the screen. My order will be ready in about 6 hours, I almost don’t have to translate the time in my head. Their minutes and hours are beginning to make sense to me.
I buy some water tablets for my bottles at home and leave in a hurry. I always make sure to stick to the most densely populated areas if I can help it. There is often safety in numbers here.
The bookstore is not one of those places, and it’s my next stop. Most humans are already aliterate, and even more do not at all care for alien literature. Personally, I can’t get enough, and as a treat every two months I buy what I can from a local shop.
I’m quite lucky, as some books have translators inserted in the spines. Don’t ask me how they work because I have absolutely no idea.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer!” Perela, the owner and only worker in this establishment is always so chipper. You’d think there was no war at all if you met her, no such thing as war, even.
“That means a lot, coming from the biggest bookworm in the State.”
She raises an eyebrow at me, then her long, thick tail from behind the counter where she leans, wiggling it in the air. “Bookworm?”
“Human expression, forget it.”
“No no, tell me.”
I think for a moment. “You know, I don’t know where it comes from. I don’t know why we say it.”
“That’s too bad. It’s cute.” She grins. “You’re a little bookworm, aren’t you?”
I never really thought of myself as little. Currently, I stand at 6’4”, and yet still I am dwarfed by even the smallest of women here. “Well, I guess I am.” I answer, as I gaze up at the towering figure smiling warmly down at me. “Got any recommendations?”
She pulls a stack of books, some thick, some skinny up onto the counter and lets them land with a thud. “All with working translators, and each within your price range. Your income hasn’t changed, has it?”
“No Ma’am.”
“Ah, yes- well, I think you’ll enjoy these. This top one is a comedy about two humans, both pining over who they think is the same woman. However, because they are not used to our appearances, they do not realize that there are actually two women, and that they each like only one of them. So they get into all these different situations and misunderstandings where they mistake each other for the other, and it’s really very funny! And of course there’s the fact that human males are pining over us, that adds a certain novelty to it.”
“Let me guess. It’s like Shakesphere’s comedies, and ends with a wedding or two?”
She tilts her head, confusedly at me. She knows I detest spoilers, but also has no idea who Shakesphere is.
“Don’t answer that. What else have you got?”
“Well, I was feeling inspired when you told me about- uh… The detective.”
“Sherlock Holmes.”
“That’s the one. I went on a mystery binge, and I think this story is most comparable to how you described Shel- Shelrick- How do you say it?”
“Sherlock Holmes.”
“I wish I could read it for myself. It sounded so interesting the way you put it.”
I take a step closer to the counter.
“Well… Maybe I could try transcribing some of the stories. Most of them weren’t very long, and I read them a lot growing up.”
I place my hand next to hers on the wood. The scales on her forearm shift and stand slightly.
“I would love that. I could easily have it translated.”
The shriek of energy screams in the street outside. Our heads jerk, and Perela and I look out at it, green lightning striking the ground over and over again in the same spot. I step back, further into the store. A figure emerges from the green glow.
It takes a step, then another in the street. The lightning continues to strike, and another figure emerges, then another. Their bodies are ethereal, covered in shrouds which hang just above the ground, their heads black and lifeless. They have eyes of dark emerald embedded in their awful, puppet-like faces. They leave dark black footsteps everywhere they go.
“Out the back. Out the back.” Perela speaks in a soft whisper, as if hoping to go unnoticed by the wraiths outside. She grips my arm and she grips it tightly. “Come on.”
I slowly back away, turning after a few steps. I follow Perela, and feel the intense sensation of a wraith’s gaze. It is looking at me. My heart drops. I’ve felt this before in my apartment during a city breach, although the sensation was much weaker. A wraith was looking at me. From all the way down on the street? It saw me? My knees begin to wobble. Don’t fall, please. I can’t let it touch me. Don’t let it touch me. Please.
Perela desperately yanks the backdoor open and we flee into the back alleyway. I look back into the store and watch as the Wraith passes through the glass of the front and makes its way towards us. I feel an approaching rumble in the air, as if the static of a television were permeating my skin and into my core.
From what I know, Wraiths are easily mass produced, and one of the best offensive weapons the opposition has. They are mostly undeterred by violence and carry out very simple instructions. Touch a human male. Absorb any and all magic he has in his soul. Detonate.
Once they appear, they are incredibly difficult to remove. If there were one piece of propaganda that was drilled into me the most, it is to avoid these things at all cost.
“This way.”
My right leg steps forward, my left does not cooperate. My foot drags across the rough cement beneath me. Perela grabs my waist and hoists me up, doing her best to carry me the rest of the way out. I feel the gaze of the Wraith behind me.
I don’t want to die. Not now. Not ever. Please don’t do this to me. I don’t want to die.
A State fighter plane flies overhead and drops a payload of some kind in the air which disperses over us. It rains down like the ashes of a forest fire. There are many Wraiths on the emerging street before us. All looking at us. They step forward. Their gazes pummel me like clay. They step again. And again. I feel Perela’s panting.
They stop, each of them. This curse over my body shatters as quickly as it had appeared. The ashes from the sky move through the Wraiths like fire over old paper and thin columns of nothingness collapse through them. They fall to dust in front of us, no longer active. Moments later a military truck joins the scene and several soldiers emerge, weapons in hand, scouring every inch of the area for any Wraiths that may have survived the initial chemical defense.
Perela gently sets me down. My arms shake uncontrollably.
“Why?” I sniffle. “Why?”
She wraps her arm around my shoulder and holds me close. I hug myself into her, my face enveloped by the soft flesh of her chest. I sob against her for what feels like hours. Her other hand gently scrapes against my scalp.
“I know, honey. I know.”