The Un-Invasion
Sarah Solyali
THE END:
Mother did not believe me when I told her I saw an alien. She posed it as my imaginary friend and laughed about it with my father.
‘Was its skin blue like Ping?’ She teased, referencing an old Chinese cartoon she watched as a child.
My mother is old but still beautiful in her age, even as she gaped up at the hovering UFO quietly buzzing above our house. Her once curved lips, which previously laughed at my statement of aliens, now in a gasp of absolute horror; her kind eyes wide and sweaty, still beautiful even when she was petrified.
THE MIDDLE PT 1
When I was six years old, I ran away from home. My parents were shouting in the kitchen. Nausea from the smell of burnt prawns and toxic words in my secondary language chased me out. I slipped out the window and ran to the park, because where else was a six-year-old to run to? The street I ran along was ankle deep and coated in muddy water, bubbling up from the drains originally tasked with keeping the water down. Nothing could keep the water down now.
The water spilled was carried from Antarctica, sometimes it boiled from the humidity of toxins. The air itself was dangerous to breathe for too long forcing everyone indoors. We all had air-filters providing clean air in every room of our house, but still it was not enough to keep humanity alive.
Outside, toxic ashes coated the once blue sky, painting it a permanent grey. On the outskirts of the flooded park stood an otherworldly creature. He was tall and rounded giving him a youthful look. His name was Hector, an oddly human name for an alien.
Hector had not noticed me creep towards him as he observed both the children and adults socialising at the park. I stood next to him for quite some time, watching, seeing what he was seeing, listening to the rumbling sounds of his brain which mimicked the rumbles of a hungry human stomach. The vibrations made me giggle only then did he look down at me. He did not say anything when he eventually noticed me. Instead, he slowly vanished into thin air, disappearing as if he had never been there.
I went home and told my mother about what I had seen. She was still outraged at my poor father that she took no notice of me. My father died a few years later of emphysema, which was just about how every person died. It was a lung disease from too much time outdoors, without oxygen filters, the air that could be deadly.
The very next morning before mother had even woken, I had run to the park again when the tides were low enough to comfortably walk through. I searched behind every tree but there was no sign of Hector. I went again after dinner when my parents were fighting; perhaps it was their screams which summoned him to the park; but that was not the case.
The air was hot, and I choked on it as I walked. When I returned home my mother told me of a time when she was very young when the wind was bitter like mint and cooled down your skin. But that was long gone before I was born. Mother would tell tales of how you could cook eggs on the pavement outside. Now you could cook them in mid-air, but they would only float away in the water which constantly covered the street.
THE MIDDLE PT 2
It was the day New Zealand sank when I saw him next. I was foraging with my mother, but she still used the term shopping, I'd never known what that word meant.
I noticed Hector standing by the fire exit. He stood in front of a one-way door that I knew would open and crush him into the wall, just as it had once crushed me. I had bruises on my arms for weeks, as a six-year-old this was the most pain I had ever experienced. The wall was made of steel, thick and heavy and made a shattering sound every time it swung open. People would slam old trolleys into it and fill it full hoping they would have enough food for the month.
I watched him as he watched others. His eyes followed the items being scanned by the registers and his ears twitched inhumanly at every stolen sound.
The low rumble of a trolly vibrating spawned goosebumps along my skin. My palms grew sweaty as the metal door began chattering fearing the ferocious slam itself. Hector remained oblivious to the torture he was about to endure. The weeks of numbness spend in bed, the purple scars I carried for months, and the absolute helplessness of not being able to move your own body sent my feet moving, rushing to save this unfamiliar yet intriguing creature from the bling pain the steel door could cause. Hector was distracted by a child which had begun screaming and splashing on the floor. The churning sounds of his brains as he processed the scene made my heart race faster. His skin was cool to touch like a crystal and left a blue mark on my hand. I welcome the coolness of his skin despite only our moment of contact as I shoved him out of the path of the dangerous door.
We had both fallen over, splashing in the water, but I had saved him. I took him in, his eyes were like an owl’s, too large for his head and a blinding bright yellow, they twitched in recognition and my cheeks warmed. Beneath his skin were strange textures which seemed to bubble under a mask of human flesh. It was patchy to a point where it was almost scaly, discoloured shades of grey peeked out like explosions between the stretches of leather posing as human skin. He was quite horrifying at first, but that was not the reason my heartbeat so fiercely. I'll learn later that aliens have soulmates; Soulmates are often chosen and secured by sharing a first physical contact. Physical touch is forbidden until a soulmate was chosen. Unknowingly, I had awoken this connection within Hector and forced ourselves together.
Hector didn’t take long to show up after that. The next time I saw Hector he was outside my window. I wasn’t frightened by the oddly large head and scaly skin or his bug-like eyes. I opened the window, and he handed me a chocolate bar he had bought. I learnt later he did not successfully buy the chocolate; he had tried of course by exchanging leaves for the chocolate then vanishing quickly just as he had on me the first time we met. I laughed at his innocence; Despite his incredible knowledge he still could not grasp the concept of money.
Over the years Hector paid me many visits. Hector learnt English and I learnt Xxreeie. At first, we strictly communicated via a little vibrating orb that translated our words into the other language. Hector learnt more about humanity, and I learnt more about aliens. There were many different species of aliens across the galaxies, much more advanced than humanity. Hector's race was here to determine whether humanity was worth saving. Many different individuals were placed on earth, in different parts of the world, observing the actions we took both independently and as a whole. Hector's race could have saved the humanity many years ago but why would they when we were only destroying ourselves? Hectors race believed things are not worth saying if they have not attempted to save themselves. Humanity had much notice of the earths decay, despite the ban on plastic straws and cutlery, billion-dollar companies continued making only themselves rich.
When the streets started properly flooding in Penrith, we knew our time had come. Australia was one of the last places to flood; Australia and Ireland as predicted, because of the country's high walls it was harder for ocean levels to creep in. There were only a handful of people left, many choosing the easy way out, others drowning. The rich were here in Australia, holding on to the last bits of fake filtered air. Food was scarce, the water filled the streets and families wrote messages of hope of future generations. There would be no future generation of humanity though.
THE BEGINNING:
Hector's ship hovered over my house with a light rumble of electricity more advanced than the movies had predicted. People came out of their houses, despite the charcoal air, to see our rescues, hoping they too would be rescued. Hector hovered down on a floating platform- he did not bother with the fake human appearance this time. His skin was a collage of patchwork and warts, some places were covered in fur and others were scales, his yellow eyes like beacons and his boneless ears sagged under his chin. My mother screamed when she saw him, screamed when she saw me with him, her face pale. But she boarded the floating panel that carried her up to their mother ship. Quiet and in shock I could not blame her.
People cried out far below us, first their screams echoed through the waist deep water, then their voices rose to a begging, to come back and save them too. But the aliens did not. In the ship ride to a planet called Xaiya, mother and I gazed back at our blue earth, where land and trees once grew, waves now lapped in the endless sea. We would soon be the last of humanity left.
In Xaiya, the air is clean enough to breathe without the need for any sort of filter. Everyone spends a mass amount of time outdoors and the sun paints everything in a love glass hue, brighter than any sun I’ve seen on earth. And often enough Hector flies me past Earth to watch the last bits of Australia drown.
Sarah Sol is an editor, writer, and artist of all talents. While currently studying a Double Degree in Law and Art she dreams of becoming a full-time chicken carer. Her inspiration draws from unconventional fairytales and eerie legends and mother earth herself.
