Alien Invasion and Other Inconveniences (2 page)

The crew I’m working on and several other crews are assigned to the task of gathering machines. We gather them from offices and condos. Anywhere there’s a machine, we find it. When we do, we take it to places the aliens have set up to destroy the machines. I’m talking about cars, computers, phones, toasters, microwaves, even televisions. The aliens really seem to enjoy destroying them. What could an alien have against TV? This is another alien behavior my mom would approve of. She thought TV lowered everyone’s IQ every time they watched it.

About two weeks later, after a long morning of collecting machines, a bus pulls up. The Sanginian who’s been ordering us around all day orders me and this guy named Michael to get in.

You’re being transferred to Lord Vertenomous’s house
.
Congratulations
.

“Why congratulations?” I ask.

They don’t like questions. And they’re not big on answers. Mostly they just look at us with those big creepy eyes. But the boss Sanginian surprises me and answers.
Because you are superior product
.

“Like a good pair of shoes?” I say.

He stares at me with those big creepy eyes and then turns away. One answer is all I get.

Michael and I take the last two seats at the back of the bus. I think he’s a little older than I am, but I don’t know much about him. I’ve heard he was a big-time football player in Florida. He looks like an athlete. He also looks like someone who thinks a lot of himself.

We’re going down streets we haven’t gone down before. We pass other crews loading machines into the alien transport ships.

“How’s it feel?” Michael says. First words he’s ever said to me.

“What?”

“Being a slave.”

“It’s great,” I say. “How about you?”

He wants attitude, I’ll give him attitude. When the situation calls for it, I am an excellent attitude giver.

“It’s in my genes, right?” he says. “I should be real good at it.”

He smiles at me, but it isn’t a real smile. His jaw clenches, and his eyes get small and hard, and I can see how much he’d like to hit something — me, he thinks, but really just something.

“Right,” I say, trying to be sarcastic.

I get the feeling Michael wants an apology from me, which I don’t understand exactly.

“You think that’s right?”

“You ever heard of the word
sarcasm
?”

Michael is trying to stare me down. I pretend I don’t notice. He looks away, out the window. “I was going to be a star. I was going to have whatever I wanted. Everyone said so. Pro football star. I wasn’t a jerk about it, either. Not me. I was humble. What an idiot.”

“Why an idiot?” I say, curious in spite of myself.

“I should have been grabbing everything I could.”

Even though I don’t like the guy’s attitude and am not especially fond of football stars and egomaniacs in general, I know what he means. What did I miss by not grabbing everything I could? And now it’s gone. Everything’s gone.

“I can see that,” I say.

“You can’t see anything. You aren’t me.”

Again, the attitude. Does he really think he’s the only one who’s lost anything, everything?

Michael bangs the seat in front of him with an open hand. “Now here I am two hundred years ago. Somebody’s property.”

“We both are.”

“Don’t give me that
both
stuff. You don’t know. It isn’t in you like it’s in me.”

I feel the need to point out the obvious. “You haven’t been a slave.”

“I’ve got the memory in me, and I can’t get rid of it. You know how I know this is true? I always thought something was gonna come and take everything away from me. I always thought that. My mother and my sisters told me I was crazy, but here we are.”

“You always thought that?”

“That’s right. I knew something like this was gonna happen.”

“Like little green men from outer space were going to invade Earth and ruin your football career? You knew that?”

He glares at me. I glare back. Then, I don’t know why exactly, but we both kind of smile. And once we smile, we start laughing. I can’t even say what’s so funny, but I can’t stop laughing. People on the bus turn around and look at us like we’re crazy. I realize then I haven’t heard laughter in what seems like an eternity.

When Michael stops, he says, “Okay, Tex. Maybe you got me there.”

We arrive at the great lord’s house, which is more like a palace. Someone has chopped off the top of a hill to build it. A stone wall, like the wall of a castle, surrounds it. The grounds are lush, with plants and trees. Fountains and pools are linked by a stream that gurgles and twists its way through the grounds. Whoever owned this before the alien invasion must have been a bazillionaire. He must have had so much money he could do anything he wanted. But it didn’t do him any good when the aliens came. If he’s alive, he’s just like the rest of us now. Product.

Two other buses are unloading in the large brick parking area. It’s like before. Most of the people are young, with a few older people and no kids. I notice a girl who looks a little like Paris Hilton. I see that Michael notices her, too.

Six Handlers are in the parking area to watch us. I’ve only seen one Handler before, but they’re easy to spot. They’re warriors. They’re a little bigger than the other Sanginians, and they carry themselves like my dad and his friends, like soldiers.

One of the Handlers herds us inside. It’s like he’s all around us, like he’s able to multiply himself so there are suddenly thirty or forty of him. He tells us, in our minds, that we are superior product and have been chosen to work in the House of Lord Vertenomous, the leader of the invasion and First Citizen of the colony.

If he expects me to be impressed or thankful, he can forget it. But he doesn’t seem to expect anything — unless you count total obedience. He’s pretty clear about that.
I expect total obedience. If I do not get that from you, then you can expect total death. I will be sorry for your loss
.

Boys go to the second floor and girls to the third. Five or six to a room. We’re going to have to sleep on the floor, but at least they put out pillows and blankets and sheets. Michael and I make up places over by a window.

“Aren’t we lucky to be superior product?” I say. “We get to be Lord Vert’s slaves.”

“Lord Vert?” Michael says. Then nods and smiles. “Yeah, okay, Lord Vert.”

“Lord Vert, big-time First Citizen of the Sans.”

“We’re probably never going to leave here,” Michael says, looking out the window.

“Don’t say that,” I say. “Just don’t.
Sexual intercourse
. I hate the
illegitimate sons
so much.”

Michael doesn’t know me all that well, but he’s giving me the look I get a lot from my friends. I mean
got
a lot. One they especially gave me when I invented alternatives to swearing.

“It’s my mom,” I tell him. “She was an English teacher. She said swearing was just a form of laziness, so she convinced my dad and me to come up with alternatives. It was kind of like a game. I got in the habit of it. Once at a wrestling match I called my opponent a son of a female dog and a fatherless biped. The guy was so confused, I got a two-point takedown.”

Michael shakes his head. “Dude, I’ve known people who pretend to be crazy, but you, my friend, are the real deal.”

Sure, I hear the rest of it, but what I hear loudest is “my friend” and somehow, in spite of everything, this makes me feel a little better.

My dearest,

We are making progress, but it is slow. Everything must be done or redone. No communication tunnels, no flight paths. The land here is unattractively hilly, and the buildings too tall; even the furniture is ridiculously large and cumbersome. But the most troubling aspect of this world is the clutter of machines. It is uncomfortable to be in proximity to so many of them, though they are primitive and harmless to us. The product even used them to travel down paved paths on the surface — big hunks of metal hurtling down narrow concrete paths. Absurd and an abomination to the natural green of the world. They have destroyed so much with their brutal and misguided attempts to civilize. Naturally, one can see how a species such as this, destructive and self-destructive by nature, would eventually have been conquered by their machines as so many other civilizations in the universe have. Our arrival is fortuitous.

The scouts’ assessments of the species is accurate, but surprisingly, a few of them can hear if we create a link. This will add to overall product value. We have lost more of them than anticipated in the process of learning how to avoid harming them. Those who cannot hear are quite fragile in the way of some primitives, and we’ve often killed when we meant only to punish. However, due to their size, I believe they will make excellent slaves on planets in need of physical labor. I should prepare you and the girls for that. They are extremely ugly. Not only are they grossly large, but they have no green or blue in their skin. Also they have tiny, beady eyes, strangely shaped small heads, and, I’m sorry to say, hair. Nevertheless, the world itself is quite beautiful. Green everywhere. The sky is often astonishingly blue.

I am eagerly anticipating your arrival and the arrival of the girls and, of course, the colonists. I have a house. Although I’m sure you will find much lacking, it will, I think, suffice until materials to build a real home arrive.

In the morning the aliens wake us with an obnoxious
Wake, product
followed by a faint shock. I actually miss being woken by my mom. She had a morning person’s enthusiasm that was as irritating as a pep squad, but I miss it now.

They order us to gather by the big pool. I get there early, and only one other person is there; a pretty girl. She has pale skin and long, curly black hair and wears glasses that don’t hide her dark eyes or the fact that tears are coming out of them.

“Are you okay?” I realize it’s a dumb question right after I ask it. Who’s okay?

“No,” she says.

I try to be more specific. “What’s wrong?”

“I just saw them kill a girl. She lost it — started screaming. One of them told her to stop, and when she didn’t, the alien turned her off. That’s what it was like. It was like the alien flipped a switch, and the girl dropped to the floor dead.”

She’s looking at me like she hopes I can say something that will make things less terrible. I’ve got nothing.

“I’m sorry,” I say finally, just to break the silence because it feels like it’s trying to break us.

She shivers. “We aren’t anything. They’re right, in a way. They can do whatever they want to us, kill us even, and we can’t do a thing about it.”

“Don’t say we aren’t anything.”

I know how she feels. They’re so strong and we’re so weak. Sometimes I’ve felt so weak I think I’ll solve the problem of my weakness by not existing at all. Three people used that solution during the short time I worked on the crew downtown.

I look into those pretty dark eyes. I feel her sadness and my own like something trying to pull us under, and I get mad. They’ve taken everything, but they won’t take this. I won’t let them. “We matter.”

“Why? Why do we matter?”

“We’re the last people,” I say.

Then she does something surprising. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek. Her lips are soft. Her hair brushes against the side of my face. The kiss itself lasts about a second, but I feel it long after.

Others are around us by then. A few stragglers are still coming out of the house. The aliens order us to form lines. They give us assignments. I’m outside. The girl is in. She smiles at me before she goes into the house. It’s a sad smile but a smile just the same.