THE ARTIFACT

I sat at my weird alien desk twiddling my equivalent of thumbs waiting for Blonkbure to shuffle into my spacious alien office.

Like most genius scientists, Blonkbure was habitually late. And very sloppy.

When it eventually sauntered in, I gritted my proboscis and said in the series of burps, clicks, and hisses that made up my species’ version of speech, “Yo! You’re eighteen boofers late. Eighteen! What do you have to say for yourself, Blonkbure? What gives?”

“I’m sorry, Superior Splankbire,” it said, because that’s my name, “I wanted to clean off my pincers before presenting myself in your office. I meant no disrespect. I’ve not slept in six biffers because I finally developed a primer to understand the monsters’ language.”

I leaned forward in my equivalent of a seat. “Language? The monsters had a language?”

Blonkbure nodded excitedly. “A language, and an entire civilization, Superior! It all came together once I uncovered the purpose of The Artifact.” It was wearing a strap that ended in a locked box containing The Artifact.

The Artifact was a metal string with a strange charm on the end of it, in a shape we’d never seen before. We found The Artifact around the neck of one of the long-dead monsters, in the monster’s tomb. We always capitalized the T in The and the A in Artifact to make sure everyone understood how significant the discovery was.

I steepled my tendrils under my proboscis. If I had eyebrows, I totally would’ve raised one to show how intrigued I was. “I’m listening.”

“While I was attending a symposium on monster anatomy, I saw that the monsters have two fat sacks on their lower backs, which Thunkpore believes may be cushions for resting. I realized that the two curves of the fat sacks resembled the two curves of The Artifact’s charm!

“So, that sent me down a chain of mistakes and discoveries related to the idea that the charm was emblematic of these fat sacks. Eventually, I made the correct connection: it wasn’t the lower-back fat sacks at all, but the monster’s most vital organ that the charm represented.”

I made an alien huh. “I’ve seen that organ, it looks nothing like the charm.”

Blonkbure nodded. “I agree. The monsters must’ve sucked at artwork. Anyway, the idea that this charm represented something inside the monster’s body got me to thinking about the line around the charm. That maybe it wasn’t a decorative line, but rather, a seam. And if I opened it, some stuff would be inside!” It removed The Artifact from the locked container, and very carefully cracked open the charm.

Inside the charm were images of the heads of two smiling young monsters. I scratched my equivalent of a chin thoughtfully.

Blonkbure continued. “A little research uncovered that the images were of the monster in the tomb’s offspring. Once I understood that, I began to look at various iconography in a new light. That’s when I determined that what we believed were textures engraved into structures were actually a primitive language.

“So, it turns out that the monsters referred to themselves as ‘humans.’ And The Artifact is called a ‘locket.’ And the charm shape is called a ‘heart,’ named after the organ. And the offspring are called ‘children.’ Oh, also, the lower-back fat sacks are called ‘butts.’ And when they don’t like doing something, they say it’s ‘a pain in the butt.’ Isn’t that weird?

“Children are not created asexually, the way our species makes them. They make children sexually, and their version of sex is super gross and weird. Dinkmare found a recording. There’s a lot of yelling from both parties, and lots of oozing, and sometimes one of the humans will put on what is known as a rubber dinosaur suit and take a tool called a spatula and—”

I raised a trochanter in protest. “Enough. You’re creeping me out. Stay on topic.”

“Sorry. And, just to be clear, we’re not sure if that’s how all humans procreated. We just have the one recording.

“Anywho, Dinkmare, klutz that it is, knocked the locket off its platform, and one of the images of the human children fell out. And behind the image was a human word: LOVES.

“Removing the other picture, we uncovered another human word: MY.

"MY LOVES.”

I leaned forward in curiosity. “What does it mean, ‘My loves?’”

Blonkbure flashed our version of a smile. “It means that the monster—the human—cared for and supported her offspring.

“It means that we were wrong about the monsters. They aren’t monsters, or savages. They were—are—beings capable of compassion and empathy. They had a society and civilization. They made fascinating inventions like the compass, the printing press, the internal combustion engine, and a hat you could drink beer out of.

“It means we were wrong to wipe out the monsters when we landed here on the planet they called ‘Earth.’ And we’re wrong to enslave the few who survived.”

It very carefully placed The Artifact back in its case, locked it, and placed it on the table beside it. “I will be making a presentation to the Grand Admirals to reveal this discovery and raise a motion to free the remaining mons—uh, humans.

“Of course, Superior, I will only do so with your approval.” Blonkbure placed a trochanter to its thorax in salute.

“Yeah, yeah, uh, that all sounds good to me. Good stuff. Good stuff. So, um, before you go, do me a favor and stand very still. I want to show you the cool new weapon I got.”

“Oooh, exciting… So shiny! What does it do?”

“It vaporizes the target.”

“Nice! No mess at all. I bet it really hur—”

I fired the weapon, and Blonkbure silently turned to odorless vapor.

I hope it didn’t hurt at all, Blonkbure. You were a brilliant scientist and a good friend. I killed you because you uncovered the secret that the Grand Admirals and I have known from the get-go, and I didn’t want you to share that secret with anyone, and making you dead was the most surefire way to accomplish that.

Getting up from my alien desk, I picked up the locked container, removed The Artifact, and dropped it into a CinBin to incinerate it.

Sitting back down at my desk, I pressed the intercom. “Uh, Hankfere.”

“Yes, Superior Splankbire?”

“Sound the alarm. Blonkbure stole The Artifact and ran off with it. I suspect it was headed toward Alien Canada.”

I leaned back in my alien chair, bummed that I had to zap one of my BFFs to keep the subordinates from turning on us.

It was a small price to pay, however, to be able to stay here on this green paradise; Earth plants are super effing delicious.

I pressed the intercom again. “Hankfere.”

“Superior?”

“Get me a large ficus and a side of lilac.”

“You got it, Superior. Extra mulch?”

“You know me well, Hankfere.”

Waiting for my food to come, I got sad again. I realized I’d have to hire a new genius scientist, and I hated sifting through résumés. What a snooze-fest.

This job was a real pain in my abdomen—that’s where my butt would be, if I had one. Which I don’t. Because I’m an alien-bug-thing.

THE END OF THE STORY I WROTE