Chapter Three
Clearly, I’m fucking stupid.
When a parasitic hivemind tells you that you’re the one thing stopping them from taking over the solar system, you don’t agree to go on a date with them. Why did I do this? I kept asking myself that all day and couldn't come up with a single good answer.
They hadn’t left the video call I abandoned when I thought I was just getting mail. When I sat down at my desk, as if going back to work would solve all my problems, I nearly screamed when my former colleague Daniel, now a sunflower-looking person, started speaking to me.
“You don’t need to work on anything you don’t want to, Georgia. Or really buy anything, I guess. But it’s up to you.” He waved his pale orange hands. “We don’t want to control you or anything weird.”
I used to hate Daniel. He was the worst guy to work with. His code was always messy and his documentation even worse. Not to mention he always fucking interrupted me during meetings so I could never get a full thought into discussions.
But now he’s not real anymore.
No one I used to speak with or see is really that person anymore.
Oh my God.
I stop in the middle of the pavement. There isn’t a single soul around.
The high street is never like this. In all my years of living in North London, there has always been at least someone coming or going.
The shops that line up on either side of the street are barely lit.
There are a few with no lights; a couple of restaurants that are normally heaving with people are completely shut now.
The one beacon of light in the distance is the laksa bar I told Not Rose I would go to for a date.
No, Sorscelgra. They have a name. They want me to be happy; I should at least try to be respectful with them as we navigate whatever the hell they think is happening right now.
The spring air is still chilly at night, but I wonder if I should have worn something more…
Sexy?
Is that what I want to be? It’s never bothered me before. My sense of style is masculine but lacking in finesse. Nobody wants to dress the size 24 lesbian like the little nerd her heart and wallet can agree on.
Still, the plain knitted vest I’ve got on is one of my favourites, as is everything I’m wearing. This is my going-to-dinner uniform. Any time I need to look smart, this is the outfit I gravitate towards.
And the laksa bar is always the place I suggest to eat whenever anyone asks me to go out. I know exactly what I’ll have; I know the food and the team that works there. There shouldn’t be any surprises.
Everything about tonight should be familiar, and I should take comfort in that. But I can’t. Because it feels like I’m about to have an interview that decides if I remain human or if I become a part of whatever freaky floral hivemind Sorscelgra is.
Suddenly, a light flicks on from the Buddhist centre.
“You okay?” A short, spindly flower person steps out from the small doorway and waves. Their pale blue skin and petals practically glow in the dark.
“Nervous,” I say quietly.
“Us too.” The thin bits that stick out from the top of their head flick in a way that reminds me of my childhood cat’s tail.
I take a deep breath and nod. This is fine. Everything will be fine. It has to be because I've decided I want to survive.
Outside the restaurant, there is a short queue of people loitering around the entrance. All these flowers are different shapes and sizes, some of them a familiar shape and others so completely alien to me.
“Georgia,” a tall, willowy person calls as she steps away from the queue and…
wow, okay. Sorscelgra does have my type pegged.
This body is dressed like an auntie with too much money: a soft cashmere jumper and white trousers that I would never dare wear.
The picture of refinement for the city. The green skin and deep pink flower head only make her appear more animated and angelic. “Was it okay getting here?”
“Yeah, probably the easiest the walk has ever been,” I say. My fingers curl into the long sleeve of my shirt. “You probably saw.”
“Ah, no,” she says. “We understand that it can be uncomfortable to feel like a partner is hovering, so we tried to clear out mostly.”
“It was a bit weird how quiet it was.”
Sorscelgra does a strange motion with her head, the same fronds that the blue flower had twitching. The sweat that beads along my back becomes embarrassingly obvious to me as we stare at one another.
“Let’s head in.” My voice cracks as nerves begin to twist in my belly. “The food here is my favourite.”
I open the door and let Sorscelgra head in first. One of the other flower people that were lingering around the entrance quickly takes the door and ushers me inside next. Is this chivalry or just something else?
It’s exactly how I remember it. Everything is as expected except for the aliens working in the kitchen. They are dressed in the shop's t-shirt and apron, but there are massive hairnets over the opening of their flowers.
“Food safety is very important,” Sorscelgra says as she sits down at a table near the centre of the room. “We made sure to clean extra well this afternoon since it’s been a little bit since we’ve had to feed anyone here.”
I nod along because I’m not really sure how to voice the barrage of questions that come to my mind. A glass of wine and pitcher of water are quickly placed on the table. A second, empty wineglass is placed for Sorscelgra.
“Do you not like wine?” I ask. As horrible as it sounds, I’m not sure I could date a teetotal person again. I did it once in my early twenties, but years in corporate hell have made me crave a stiff drink every once in a while.
“This vessel used to enjoy gin and tonics, but we don’t have a need for human sustenance. The air is humid enough, and your sun provides so much energy; we’re practically glowing.”
To demonstrate, Sorscelgra extends a long delicate hand across the small table.
I’m not sure I see the glow, but I’m nonetheless mesmerised by how beautiful her skin is.
Under the bright fluorescent lights of the restaurant, the velvet texture of her skin shimmers with a golden undertone.
The softness of her skin is contrasted by her thinness, the bones of her knuckles and wrists forming harsh angles where she is otherwise curved.
I don’t hesitate to place my hand in hers, to feel the warmth and fuzziness. My hands are stubbier and more calloused, and I've spent years chewing my cuticles. The fronds at the top of her floral head flutter at our contact.
“You feel so good,” she murmurs. “We want to touch all of you.”
Butterflies like I haven’t felt in years erupt inside me. This isn’t even a sensual touch, nothing special really, but her words set off a fluttering sensation that makes me squeeze my legs tighter together.
“What would you like to eat?”
As if the world hadn’t been taken over by a hivemind, a waiter comes up to the table just as I’m about to make an attempt at flirting. This is a normal date after all. I order my usual, cutting down the number of starters I would order for a date since there is no one to split them with.
“You’ve mentioned liking human things, but you can’t eat. How do you know what the food tastes like?” I ask, pulling my hand back and taking a sip of my wine.
Her petals curl in slightly. “Well, it’s a part of the process to gain control.
All humans are one squishy organism, surrounded by bones and muscles and goop.
Once we’ve become one with them, we manipulate the bodies on a genetic level to accept us and overtake evolution.
And a part of that is gaining access to their psyche. ”
“Is the original person still there?”
“No.” She leans back as my cucumber and peanut salad is placed on the table. It’s stacked high with extra coconut flakes, just the way I like it. “To put it harshly, all the humans you once knew are gone.”
I take a pair of metal chopsticks from the cutlery bucket on the table and begin to eat. So it is just like I thought.
I’m the final girl in those dystopian horror films my ex loved.
I’m the only person on the planet who isn’t assimilated.
I'm the last human on Earth.
A chilli slice catches in the back of my throat at my first bite, and I start to choke.
My very short life flashes before my eyes as I struggle to breathe.
Average home life, average parents, average dating experiences, average everything.
Nothing about my life up to this point has broken the median of normalcy until this moment, and I’m just sitting here eating the same thing I always get.
Sorscelgra, in the form of another patron from the table behind me, pats me carefully on the back while the one I’m officially on a date with passes me a glass of water. I take small, careful sips until I can take an even breath.
Holy shit.
“Do you want children?” I ask, heart pounding in my ears.
“We can’t reproduce with you, but we could find one of the small versions of us to raise if you’d like.”
“No, no,” I wave my chopsticks around. “That’s perfect. I don’t really like kids or babies.”
“Ah, yes, that was our impression of you as well.”
“Do you know everything about me?”
“Most things, but it’s subjective. We can assume your tastes are the same, but they can change very easily. We also want to learn you for ourselves.”
It’s such a strange way to put it. It’s alien and weird, just like them. And for whatever reason the only thing on my mind right now is whether Sorscelgra can kiss. Her face has the shape of a human’s, but there are no lips or nose.
Does that make me a bad person? I don’t feel remorse or dread when I think about being the last woman on earth. The only emotion pumping through my body right now is a lust so strong I’m worried I might start panting.
“Do you want to have sex with me?”
I don’t know why I’m rushing this. There shouldn’t be any reason for it. We are the only consenting organisms around, but normally I wait until the second date before I get this crazy for someone. I want to know them a little better before I profess my undying devotion to them.
“If it’s for the purpose of mutual pleasure and connection, yes.”
“Let’s order a takeaway.”
I take hold of Sorscelgra's hand and rush out of the restaurant. Just as I’m about to start booking it back to my flat, a cushy, luxury-looking car stops in front of us.
With what little civility and humility I have left, I open the back door, and Sorscelgra slides in as gracefully as I’d expect that body to.
It's like a strange muscle memory that couldn’t be overridden.
The moment I close the door, her hand glides across my cheek to draw me into her. The green fuzzy texture of her face presses against the corner of my mouth. It tickles, catching on the skin where I’ve been biting my lip.
It’s not kissing like I’m used to. It doesn’t send that carnal thrill right through my clit, but it warms my heart.
Clearly, Sorscelgra thinks, or knows, this is something humans do as a part of sex.
I kiss her back just for a moment, half wondering if her face will split open and reveal a barrage of teeth and half to make sure she doesn’t feel embarrassed.
“If it’s not something you’re curious about, we don’t have to do it.” I wrap my hand around the one on my cheek and squeeze.
“This is awkward, isn’t it?” she pouts, shoulders slumping dramatically. “Should we use a different vessel? We’ve got to have one with a more compatible mouth.”
“What?” I blink. What would that even look like? Would it still be all flowers, or would they look more human? Am I committing to only fucking flower heads for the rest of my life?
“When we found you, we did only a small amount of research,” she says as she leans back. The fronds at the top of her head curl almost sheepishly. “Not too much! We want to learn about you from you, but we know you like kissing.”
"Eh", I shrug.
“Georgia.” Her voice, and the voice of the driver, reverberate around the car. “Do not lie to us.”
“It’s an adjustment to preference.” I can’t help the smile curling on my lips. I’ve well and truly lost my mind. “And kissing isn’t the only thing that turns me on.”
“What else?” Sorscelgra asks quickly, eager to learn instead of continuing to scold me.
“Lots of things; the joy of discovery is yours,” I tease, ignoring years of cautious dating and hookups where communicating my needs first felt like an interrogation.
For whatever reason, I don't feel any pressure to explain exactly what I'd like to do with this alien.
I'm not worried about having the perfect first time together.
For once, I just want to have fun without a single worry.
Sorscelgra huffs, making me think she’s much younger than the body she’s using for our date. So many questions wander through my head. Constantly, all the time, my internal monologue fills the silence. All that time working from home has done that to me, I suppose.
But I do find myself thinking, I could love Sorscelgra.