Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
I don’t think people have really thought about what it means for humanity to have been assigned alien nannies to keep us from blowing ourselves up or destroying ourselves and our planet.
Seriously, what do people think a nanny’s job is?
Nannies keep their charges alive, they feed them, they help them with the things they need help with, and they watch over them.
Nannies exist to make sure children reach adulthood relatively unscathed.
The fact that humans keep having their nannies metaphorically smack their hands to keep them from reaching for their weapons to fight against the ParasiticInvasiveBodySnatchers is a prime example of our aliens nannying extra hard.
We are not allowed in this fight because the goal is to keep us alive long enough to get us to adulthood as a species.
We are children fighting against the people charged with our safety and security.
Literally, humanity needs a therapist. We’re so gung-ho about being independent little shits that we’re doing things that endanger us when we don’t have to!
I’m keeping a tally of how many little rebellions the ScaryDarkAlienVampires are quelling while fighting off the invasion of the ParasiticInvasiveBodySnatchers, and it’s embarrassing how many of them are in what was the United States before our alien nannies dismantled every human government.
They are gentle-parenting us, don’t get me wrong, but this isn’t a democracy.
This is an authoritarian regime meant to help us grow up with a moral compass pointed toward egalitarianism.
The TV’s one channel that was hosting the administrator person and that subscript announcement has changed since the battle for Earth started.
The TV now shows the command central war room where Lora is currently working to organize the aliens’ war effort against the body snatchers.
He’s actually the main person on screen most of the time, which is a genuine relief for me.
I get to see him all the time, but the subscript scrolling along is the casualty count for this war effort.
It includes the number of dead and injured on both sides of the war.
Humans are steady at zero deaths, but the rising number of injuries is annoying.
We have over ten thousand injuries. The ScaryDarkAlienVampires have a zero death count and an injury count of literally two.
The body snatchers death count moved from zero to in the tens of millions with the destruction of a single ship, and Lora explained on the TV that the death count is so high because the ship was carrying mature larva ready for implantation.
So why are humans getting injured? Honestly, it’s because it’s like the fourth of July with people fucking around with explosives and finding out that small explosions and large quantities of alcohol are a bad idea.
It’s so stupid. There was a little town in Tennessee that heard it had a body snatcher working at the morgue (it did), and the town mob went to address the issue.
There were fifty burn injuries in that little riot before the ScaryDarkAlienVampires got everyone re-educated and tucked back into their beds at home.
It’s embarrassing how bad we are at staying the fuck out of the way.
Bee plops onto the sofa right next to me, handing me a plate with a deconstructed sandwich on it. Do I know why we’re doing deconstructed sammies today? No. Am I bothered about it? Fuck no. I didn’t have to make this plate of food, why the fuck would I complain about it? I wouldn’t.
“Thanks,” I tell her before biting into the hoagie bread.
“Anything new?” Bee asks, looking at the TV.
I shake my head, throwing her a little smirk.
“The human injury counter ticked up seventy three numbers because of a riot in Florida. A bunch of elderly shitheads decided to take their canes to the streets. The aliens put an end to that in about three seconds, but there’s been a bunch of newly scheduled hip replacements. ”
Bee smacks my chest. “You’re ridiculous. No one told you how many hip replacements their shenanigans resulted in.”
I shrug. “I’m just making a logical deduction,” I deadpan.
Bee laughs, shaking her head. “You’re so full of shit your eyes are brown.”
“Don’t tell Lora that. He might take you literally.” I shudder at the thought of what he might do to get my eyes back to their normal color.
Bee cackles and points to the screen, where Lora appears to be looking directly at me with concern.
“She did not mean that literally!” I exclaim, not sure if he’s actually looking at me, but I’m not taking any chances.
Lora blinks at me through the screen, and redirects his attention back to his work.
I glare at Bee, willing her hair to ignite for a tenth of a millisecond just to worry her. (I wouldn’t want to ruin her beautiful hair for real.) “You’re gonna get yours, you know that, right?”
Bee tosses an olive up and catches it in her mouth. “I believe in karma, but I’m an emergency medical aid worker. My karma is so far into the black, I get to do whatever the hell I want when I’m off work as long as I’m not undoing what I did while working.”
I hate that I agree with her, but I would never tell her that unless I was speaking to someone in defense of her.
We stand united in the face of our antagonists, but when it’s just us alone?
We’re fighting besties. “Karma doesn’t work like that.
You don’t get to claim you’re in the black for doing your literal job.
You get contribution credits for your work. That’s your karma, bitch.”
Bee’s eyes narrow and one of them twitches. “I may just return all my contribution credits. I want the karma points.”
I let out a deep, dark chuckle. “Good luck with that.”
The image on the screen suddenly jogs like the camera projecting the image is being moved, and then there’s a flash that looks like a fiery explosion before the entire screen goes black.
Fear chokes me. Every muscle in my body tenses. My brain goes completely blank except for one word on repeat. Lora, Lora, Lora…
A boom shakes the apartment, and Bee jumps to her feet, tossing her plate onto my coffee table as she dashes for the balcony.
I stare at the TV, willing it to come back online with Lora’s face.
Bee’s voice pierces through the sudden freeze that’s keeping me in place.
It’s a noise, not words. Just a loud, shocked, horrified noise.
Fear tastes coppery in my mouth, and I swallow the excess saliva suddenly choking me.
I turn toward the sound of Bee’s despair, tearing my eyes away from the blank TV screen.
She’s staring up at the dark sky, face alight from what looks like a huge fire.
I scramble to my feet and run out there with her, following her stare up to the sky on fire. One of the alien ships is raining through the upper atmosphere in a billion blazing pieces. That’s the second one they’ve lost. That’s the one Lora was on.
Whatever noise came from Bee, the cry that escapes me is a thousand times worse.
Suddenly I’m jerked off my feet, my life torn away from me as I find myself in the arms of my alien. All the breath escapes me all at once, and then the emotional overwhelm comes out in an angry shout. “What the fuck?!”
Lora nuzzles me. “We are all alive. No deaths. It’s a mirage. No one was on that ship. It is not real. It is just an illusion. I apologize. I could not communicate with you what was about to happen. I must leave again. We are almost done with this campaign.”
Before I can even release a relieved breath, he’s gone again, and it’s me and Bee on the balcony, staring up at the hallucination of an exploded ship.
“What the fuck?” Bee and I repeat in unison.