Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Alien invasion aside—no wait. Let me restart that sentence.
Because of the alien invasion, this has been the best summer of my post-college adult life. Let me count the ways my life has improved because of the ScaryDarkAlienVampires taking over:
No bills
No shitty boss named Chad
My cousin lives next door
I have a luxury apartment with more amenities than I ever thought I’d have
Free groceries
Free medical
And on top of all that, I made a new friend.
Usually I can’t really count people among the blessings, but I’m really enjoying Lora as a person, and yes, that is colored by the stupid crush I have on him, but I think we can all agree that if humans had gone out into space first and found the alien empires, we would have figured out two things right away: how to kill it and how to fuck it.
We’re just violent, little, horny beasts, and we can admit that. Or I can admit that for all of us. Either way, we all know it’s true.
For the most part, the apartment building, which is massive by the way, is filled with the humans who’ll be living here for now.
I live on level seventy nine because Lora thought the view from that level was better than any other level, and isn’t that the sweetest thing you ever heard?
He said he thought I should have the best view because I’ve been actively helping them since we met.
I guess even aliens understand the concept of positive reinforcement.
So, as I sit on the balcony outside my apartment (it’s a front door balcony that anyone can walk by on their way to their apartment from the high speed elevator), sipping wine and eating off a charcuterie board that I made for myself, I’m completely unworried about the future.
Lora says that now that all the humans have been resettled, they’re going to start reassigning people to contributive labor options.
Bee already has her new job lined up. She’s working in the rapid response medical center, and has already been educated about how to work the almost autonomous medical systems.
That’s right. Bee has been reeducated. Voluntarily.
I actually watched it happen since Lora is one of the reeducators, and he’s the one who delivered her education package, for lack of a better description.
He pointed a device at her head, pulled the trigger, so to speak, and Bee froze for about ten minutes before coming back online with all the knowledge she would need to be a technician in what qualified as an emergency room in the new infrastructure.
What was weird was that Bee said it felt like she’d gone through months of intensive studying as if, while she stood frozen, she actually went through the time to train on the machines. She said that the last training course she took prepared her for rejoining me in the same moment she left.
“It was all very… sanitized for human brains,” she explained a little hesitantly. “I don’t know how else to describe it.”
I’d been curious, of course, but there was no reason to reeducate me, so I remain curious.
My phone rings as I’m staring at the spaceship hanging in our mesosphere.
(That’s the part that’s above the stratosphere.) I only get calls from Bee and Lora usually, so I answer without checking the caller ID.
“When will you be here so I can make sure I’m decent?
” I ask by way of greeting. Both my cousin and my alien usually end up at my place, so it works for either of them.
“You are sitting on your balcony,” Lora states with very little confusion. Over the last weeks we’ve gotten to know each other fairly well, and he knows when I’m teasing even if he isn’t in the same room.
“I could be sunbathing in the nude.” I couldn’t be. There are a lot of things I will do nude, but exposing myself to others without their consent isn’t one of them, and my balcony isn’t private.
“Do humans use Sol to decontaminate their bodies?” Lora questions, and this time he is a little confused.
Sunbathing. Huh. I never actually thought about the etymology of the word, but I bet my bottom dollar that it originated in some sort of health spa treating tuberculosis or something like that. Hey Google…
Huh. Well, it wasn’t to combat tuberculosis, but if we’re honest it could be traced back to that.
(Thanks John Green for your hyperfixation.) Coco Chanel apparently influenced the invention of sunbathing by coming back from a cruise with a tan in the 1920s.
Before that, pale complexions were popular. (Thanks, Tuberculosis.)
“So, no. It’s not to decontaminate the body. It was for health, because tan people look healthier than pale people—no offense—but it is not for cleaning oneself,” I explain.
Lora’s rattles don’t always travel well over the phone.
I hear them, but some of the more complex ones aren’t as decipherable because they lose something in transit.
I assume this rattle is more of an acknowledgement than anything else, because he answers my first question next.
“I will be there in seventy two Earth standard minutes. What you wear is inconsequential.”
I look down at the fluffy pink robe that might be a little too short for a man of my size, the matching bunny slippers, and the clashing lime green cotton shorts I’m wearing.
I never claimed to be a fashion gay. I’m past the give-a-fucks part of life and well into the this-feels-nice-on-my-skin part of aging, so yeah, my fluffy pink robe is super soft and my shorts feel really nice on my balls when I shave them.
“Ok, but don’t blame me for the trailer park vibe when you get here,” I warn him, winking at a passerby who clearly thinks my outfit is too “out” and not enough “fit.”
There’s a moment where Lora consults his internal translator, and then he chuckles softly and my insides melt. Gah, I love the sound of that laugh.
“I anticipate enjoying the sight of whatever you wear. I find it hard to believe anything you put on your body would make you less adorable. I am ending the call now.”
And he does.
I haven’t explained the use of “goodbye” to end calls. I think it would be too abrupt for me if he said, “You’re adorable. Goodbye.” I like the warning he gives even though he doesn’t wait for my response.
A happy little thrill runs through me in anticipation of his visit.
Since that night he put me to bed, we’ve spent time together doing a lot of humans-are-weird conference calls like the first one, and whenever he comes for that, he usually stays for a while after the call.
He’s watched the first season of The Chronicles of Shannara with me, and we’re still picking the next thing we’re going to watch.
I’ll eventually get to the second season, but I’m not an all-the-available-seasons binge watcher. I get bored.
My favorite thing so far is that he insists on cuddling me when we watch together. He says humans need physical touch to encourage the hormones that help with social bonding, and that is the excuse he uses to pull me into his lap and cuddle me at every opportunity.
Lol.
Life is really good right now.
My phone buzzes in my hand, alerting me of a new text message or notification from the empire. I can’t turn off the notification alert from the messages from the empire, and the alert is exactly like the buzz for text messages.
It’s from a five digit number, and I audibly groan as the message opens in my messaging app.
DON’T BE SEDUCED BY THE COMFORTS THE ALIENS OFFER YOU. THEY COME AT THE COST OF YOUR FREEDOM.
Yada yada yada. Blah blah blah. The “resistance” fighters keep sending world wide text messages piggybacking the system the ScaryDarkAlienVampires use to send out their notifications.
Lora said the imperial technicians weren’t prioritizing security against the hack because it is benign and they have better things to do.
I laugh as I roll my eyes. Imagine being so insignificant that the aliens don’t even bother to stop you. They’re not even swatting the fly buzzing around their heads. It’s kind of hilarious.
But it’s also annoying, which is why I send back a response.
Me: Why don’t you bend over, push your head up the nearest rectum, and keep pushing until you disappear? No one wants what you're selling, asshole.
Because everyone who makes a fuss gets reeducated, and it’s a better response than violence.
Literally zero humans have been killed by the aliens since their arrival and so many have been saved.
Mortality rates due to disease have dropped to nothing.
The only things killing humans are other humans, old age, and Murphy's Law.
And all those mortality causes have dropped significantly since the aliens confiscated all our cars and turned them into public transit.
Right now I could take the high speed elevator down to the sublevel, walk thirty feet, and enter a high speed subway that will drop me off thirty yards from the grocery store.
Is it even a store if I don’t have to pay?
Money isn’t a thing anymore. Well, it is a thing, but it’s as useful for toilet paper as it is for commerce.
No more billionaires.
Woot.
Lora appears in front of me, and I crane my neck to smile up at him. “Hello, tiny Ollie.”
I wave at my outfit. “What do you think? Still adorable?”
He crouches in front of me and reaches out to finger the robe. “Still adorable.” He confirms. “This is quite soft, and you like very soft things.”
Never one to pass up such a stellar opening, I reply, “So do you.” I give him a wink, and grab my belly, jiggling it at him.
I’m what you might call furry if you like body hair on men, and hairy if you weren’t that into it.
Not blanketed in body hair, but it isn’t exactly sparse either.
Lora seems to find the fur on me appealing, because any time he has the opportunity, he caresses me, and he doesn’t disappoint this time, either.
“I do enjoy some soft things,” he agrees, splaying his hand over my belly and giving it a gentle squeeze before rubbing my tummy.
Although the balcony isn’t always busy, it is the time of day that usually sees more activity, and a passerby stops in her tracks, staring at Lora in shock as he runs his hand up my chest to my neck. It would be such a pleasant sensation without the gawker.
“Girl, they’ve been on Earth for a month, and this one visits me all the time. Get over it,” I sass, pushing up and letting Lora lift me out of my chair.
I grab his hand and drape it over my shoulder, backing up to lean against him. I look ridiculous, but with Lora backing me up, I really don’t care how I look.
“Greetings, Amberlee,” Lora states more formally than I think I’ve ever heard him. “Was your contribution today fulfilling?”
Amberlee’s eyes widen, and she slowly nods. “Uh, yeah. It was great. Thanks.”
“Lovely,” I tell her. “Nice to meet you Amberlee, but I’ve got a date with destiny, so see ya,” I announce and pull Lora into my apartment.
Lora follows willingly since there’s no way I could move him if he didn’t want to be moved, and once the door is closed, he crouches down to my height (ish) and cocks his head at me, rattling thoughtfully. “You do not like other humans.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’ve not been all that impressed by them, no. I prefer a select few and the rest can fuck right off.”
His smile makes my heart flutter a little. I really fucking like him. “I have considered what contribution you might find fulfilling. Doctor Randy made a suggestion that I agree may suit you.”
Ooooh. I’ve been waiting for this. I thought I would be amongst the first humans assigned to a job, but Lora told me that I was lower on the list than that. “What is it?”
My expertise is in nerd shit. I spent my twenties in tech startups doing hardware engineering, and then my early thirties was in software engineering, and we all know what I’ve been doing lately. Tech support is a step down but way less stressful than creating the tech that needs support.
Lora’s rattle becomes pensive before he admits, “I believe humans would call the job ‘janitorial staff.’”