Realisation Invasion.

CHAPTER 1

I’ve never gotten used to the darkness in here. The intoxicating smell of the anaesthetic as it squeezes through the vents with a subtle hissing sound that fills the otherwise empty space inside this chamber. The clamminess in my hands are catching the cool breeze from the vents, contradicting the nervous heat growing at the back of my neck. I know it's starting when a bright light fills my vision as everything comes into focus. The primary colours first, before the atoms start to realign to look like blocks of furniture. A soft, familiar voice booms through the speakers: “Your final exercise... Visit the supermarket and purchase one packet of noodles”.

At first, I’m disorientated. Ten toes are far too many if you ask me, and why do they feel so...delicate? After steadying myself I take stock. My surroundings are always the same when I land. I'm in her bedroom... or my bedroom I should say. One pale blue cloth drawer to the left-hand side of the dark oak entrance passage. On the right side, a full-length reflective surface and in the corner, a coloured picture box sits dormant. Along the back wall rest a rectangular sleeping compartment decorated with soft squidgy squares I believe are called ‘pillalows’ or something like that. I'm already dressed in typical human attire, a sage green cotton tee shirt, matched with ripped black jeans and white shoes with three black stripes next to the word ‘a-di-das’. Sitting on top of the drawers is a small, black rectangular money holder. I grab it awkwardly with five fingers instead of three and am greeted by blue paper with the number five written in bold, alongside an assortment of silver and copper coins. This should be enough, I thought to myself. I glance outside the window and see that it's a very typical day in London, England, Earth, with grey skies rolling softly, illuminating the world awaiting. I grab a dark blue ‘deneem’ jacket and head outside.

The human eye is a strange concept. The way in which it focuses depending on the light, and how something appears to one when familiar and the feelings that can emerge. This experience is such a limited one when you have only five senses instead of eight, limited yet uniquely beautiful. Walking out of the front door and up the pathway I turn right. A fuel powered, four-wheeled transport vehicle revs its engine abruptly, shocking me so fiercely I nearly jolted back to reality. Why do these blasted things have to be so loud? Something else to remember to be aware of. As I continue walking for twelve earth minutes I turn right and walk straight for a further twenty earth minutes, encountering small canines, felines, and human children alike. This is what I've prepared for; all levels of human interaction, practised and performed effortlessly. Approaching the purchase sector known as ‘Strat-ford Cen-ter’ I walk through the automatic doors to the ‘land of ice’ and after browsing through many items of varying temperature I come across my goal objective: “ ‘in-do-miee’, instant noodles”. I pick up the packet gently and approach the seller. “Would you like a bag for fifteen pence?” the earthling asks monotonely. “No bag required…miss”, I reply promptly. “That’s thirty-nine pence then, or you can get three for one pound and fifteen pence?”

This is what is known to humans as a ‘bargain’… but the mission is clear, I am to purchase only one.

“One is perfectly adequate, thank you.”

Handing over the change, I grab the packet and go to walk out of the shop before that familiar voice comes beaming for its final message. “Morana #4224 from the Rinda tribe. You have successfully completed the exercise and have therefore passed the recommended requirements of your training. Congratulations! You are finally ready for your mission on earth”.

CHAPTER 2

“To conclude, Morana #4224, your mission is simple…” Commissioner Groob #9393 sat at the centre of an arched table, with two minister officials seated on either side of him. He’s wearing his galactic air force medals proudly upon his senior member commemorative jacket. “Earth is enduring the crisis known as COVID-19 otherwise known as the Coronavirus. Now that you have completed all of the simulation training exercises necessary, your first official task is to visit earth for one human week or three and a half treams in our concept of time. Your objective is to measure how the humans respond to this pandemic, as a community and as a planet to determine whether they are fit for the next level of spiritual evolution. Do you accept this mission?”

Time moves at half speed in comparison to earth on my home planet, Geerindatream. One earth day equals to half a tream here. Our day is made up of twelve human hours, split into two periods; the first six hours are known as light time with the remaining six being referred to as dark time. The thought of time dragging for that long is the sole reason for my hesitation, for that kind of disorientation requires something only the veterans of my tribe have; ‘an iron stomach’. “I accept.” I proclaim boldly, despite the nervous tingles electrifying in the pit of my stomach. “Very well.” Commissioner Groob #9393 continues, “Your deployment shuttle will be ready by three dark time. Prepare your things and may the spirit of our forefathers guide you”.

With time fast approaching I glance around my quarters one last time. My bunk, situated in the middle of three, is impersonal except for a few photographic holograms showing my tribe. My favourite consists of my two parents, Morana #4223, my motherling and Rambo #5445, my fatherling. As the firstborn I inherited my motherling’s name, making me the 4224th. My younger sisterling can be seen chasing the youngest, my brotherling, around our legs before stopping to pose for the hologram. They were all so proud when I was accepted into the Galactic Air Force Missionary Base (or GAMB for short), their firstborn conducting intergalactic and planetary missions for the good of the cosmos, it was the first time I saw my fatherling emotional.

I look at myself in the reflective surface one last time, intent on remembering my own face. Two wide oval-shaped, crystal blue eyes, my ear and nose gills hidden protectively behind flaps unlike the humans who have to clean their orifices regularly. My green flesh glistening as its illuminated by a blue glow that pulses along with my two heartbeats telling others I'm alive and breathing. Without this familiar hue it's hard to feel like myself. Zipping up my yellow GAMB jumpsuit, I pick up my bag and leave for the consciousness transference chamber (or CTC for short), convinced that one earthling week would not break my spirit, after all, GAMB’s faith in me is as reassuring as it is daunting, and that feeling is all I can focus on. Until I see her.

CHAPTER 3.

I've only ever seen her in the simulation as a reflection, but here she seemed so real. Her golden-brown curls seemed soft to the touch as her dark brown skin shined in the harsh light with her delicately plump lips resting peacefully. She looks, as the earthlings would say, ‘angelic’. A vision of beauty that's familiar and strange to me all at the same time. “Amazing, isn’t it?” Ziba #2621, our scientist and earth enthusiast, remarked. She has learned everything there is to know about earth and her passion for humans is incapable of underestimation. “Sixty-five thousand synthetic fibres and wires! The best of our technology went into building her. She's a product of us and them. She is you and you are her.”

“How is this meant to work? What should I expect?” I ask hesitantly.

“Oh, is quite simple. You will step into the CT chamber to the right, while your counterpart remains in the chamber to the left. We'll be out here monitoring the both of you and making sure everything is going as it should. For you, it'll be like falling asleep and waking up again except, when you wake, you'll be in our synthetic humanoid vessel on earth, so that you can begin your mission undetected. It's a consciousness shift. Once the mission is complete, you’ll come back in a deployment pod and be quarantined before transferring back to your original body at which time you will give your report to the council. Your SHV will be stored until your next mission on earth.”

“Wow.” is all I can manage to blurt out. It's been eons since we've taken actual humans as vessels. The ethics around that was so backwards that we decided to focus time and energy on mastering the science to create the machinery to make this happen.

“It’s time Morana #4224. Are you ready?”

CHAPTER 4.

After the first couple of days on earth the overwhelmingness of it all subsided and I started to see all the beauty that Ziba #2621 gushed about throughout the weeks of training. The way the sky turns into different shades of the same colour, melting together to create a unique concoction of clouds and rays that takes my breath away. The cherry blossom trees that bloom in spring send their petals scurrying through the breeze creating an epic storm as they dance together intertwined. I’ve visited many shopping locations situated around the infamous ‘strat-ford-cen-ter’ to people watch, however, I was stumped by how much emptier it was. In the simulations there were earthlings on wheels whizzing through followed by more earthlings on hoverboards of some kind, but now, it’s practically empty. The ‘land of ice’ no longer showed a buzzing atmosphere but the rampant, savage, primitive nature of the humans as they brawled over food and packages of paper that I think are relevant to the earthling’s hygiene routine. There seems to be no communication skills amongst these people, no understanding or concept of sharing and reproducing for the greater good. Everyone here is out for themselves and it shows. I counted sixty-four individuals bundled in blankets and cardboard all bunched up together outside the centre. When I enquired about this, I was told that these people had no home, and were left to sleep and fend for themselves. They used to be allowed to sleep in the centre until the government issued warnings threatening fines to whomever tried to enter for anything other than shopping. I never knew that humans could be so selfish and abhorrent. To leave one’s own species for death with complete disregard left me feeling utterly disgusted.

There was another thing that started to bother me as the days went on. Of course, I know that the simulation training was only modelled on the human race, but what I was unprepared for was their reactions to me wherever I went. Sometimes, when I entered a communal space, I could feel the tension rise in the air. The earthlings would stare at me with faces of discomfort and anguish, so much so that I had to check the reflective surfaces to ensure my disguise was still intact. Conversations weren’t as full length with most interactions leaving me feeling more bewildered than before. Nobody wanted to talk to me nor be near me, no one even wanted to make eye contact with me, which I’m sure is incredibly important when interacting with humans. It didn’t make sense to me… until it did.

CHAPTER 5.

Feeling that my research was inconclusive, I decided to try to do some interwebbing on platforms most common to humans; ingram, face-book, and twitt-ers seemed to be the most popular. I found that most humans express themselves through overused picture messages saying a lot of the same thing or through miniature versions of everyday animals. I found the whole thing quite addictive if I’m honest, until I came across a video that seemed quite puzzling. At first, I didn’t understand. There was a ‘police’ vehicle parked with its lights flashing and at first I thought nothing was happening, until I heard the wails of a grown earthling pleading: “Please, I can’t breathe… please… I can’t breathe… you’re kneeling on my neck…” behind the police van was a black earthling splayed on the floor, with an officer pushing his knee into the man’s neck pinning him to the ground. I could see as the officer’s knee dug in more and more, while his partner just stood and watched. “Mama…mama…” the man cried out before it cut to black.

I sat there for a few minutes, my heartbeat drumming in my ears as sickening rage climbed up my chest and manifested into tears as I began sobbing for the first time in my life. I started diving deeper, finding what I now know are hashtags: #BLM #JUSTICEFORGEORGEFLOYD #ICANTBREATH.

I discovered that this was not the first time as I realised the history of this planet stemmed from oppression and belittlement from a race war that started generations before anyone from Geerindatream had ever started visiting. Racism - That’s what it’s called. And as I caught sight of my self in my reflective surface, it had all started to make sense – the whispers, the stares, the cold-like reaction towards me everywhere I go. They were treating me like an alien, despite appearing to be from their own planet, because the colour of my humanoid was black, like the colour of George Floyd’s skin was too. It made no sense and yet did all at the same time and as my week on earth was coming to an end, I had found that my mission was not as simple as it seemed. No training simulation could have prepared me for such an ingrained hatred against one’s own. On my planet, we work together to stay alive, we divide up our resources and learn to live off of the land, if one of us is down then we are all seen to be down, for it is every one of us that makes the tribe not just the privileged few. Yet here, on earth, the coronavirus threatening large numbers of the population was not as big of a threat as perceived, for the humans were already turning on themselves.

CHAPTER 6.

How naïve I was to believe one earth week wouldn’t change me. As I soared through the cosmos back to Geerindatream, I found my heart and soul troubled by what I had experienced. After transferring back to my own body, I barely spoke a word until I was stood in front of the council ready to give my report. “Morana #4224, please give us your report. Are the humans ready?”

“Arriving on earth, I was optimistic. The nature that grows there is incomparable and the life that the earth breeds is extraordinary. But there is far worse happening on that planet than the coronavirus. The humans are at war with themselves, and most of them don’t know why. They try to one up each other every day in the simplest of situations whether it’s cutting in front of someone in line or getting the last item of stock before anyone else. But the human’s self-hatred digs even deeper. One half has been hating the other for generations, there is oppression on this planet, the likes I have never seen before anywhere in the cosmos. The simulation training that I received doesn’t prepare one at all for the hatred and abuse that I received, all because I was seen to be the wrong skin colour. And no, that’s not our mistake, that’s theirs. The whiter appearing humans have chosen to suffocate the voices of the black community, in most cases, quite literally. The human race is no where near ready for spiritual evolution, for how could they handle that, they can’t even handle the pandemic they’re enduring now and that’s because they are hung up on trivial notions of betterment due to position or aesthetics.” And with that I paused, to deliver my final statement: “The human race is far more severely lost than we feared.”