A Discourse on the Aliens

by A. T. Sayre

Part 1 appears
in this issue.

conclusion

I even grew suspicious of my family and oldest friends, the ones that I had known since childhood. After all, wouldn’t it be logical to assume that these aliens would enlist people that I had known all my life? They’d be the last people I would suspect if I wasn’t on to them. But I was now.

I had bought a new home security system for my apartment, and could not feel safe enough to sleep without making certain every opening to my apartment was sealed shut. But even with the airtight certainty of the Homesafe Super Deluxe package, I still woke up every once in a while with memories that I wasn’t at all certain were real or a dream. Most of them were very vague; a bright light, an odd machine-like sound by my temple, hovering lifelessly a few feet above my bed, the standard stuff.

Then there were those rare ones, where I actually saw the aliens standing over me, peering down at me with giant dark eyes. I can’t exactly tell you what they looked like; their images were far too distorted to ever get a clear idea as to their physicality. The only thing that I am certain of are those dark, opal eyes, as large as my fists if not larger, that seemed to shine in the scant light of the room like two polished opals set in their faces. I remember most vividly in those ‘dreams’ that I could not move a finger against them, either out of fear or because of some technology of theirs that prevented me from doing so, I never could tell.

Almost immediately, I suspected the government to be involved, believing that they were merely pawns of the dreaded alien race that was going to attack at any moment. That came quite naturally, distrusting the government. I don’t think I ever really trusted them to begin with.

And the media as well were members of the great conspiracy to hide the truth. How could they not say anything about the aliens if they weren’t? They were definitely hiding something. For years I had always had the slight notion that the media was not as objective and truthful as they claimed to be, maybe even being puppets of the CIA, or corporations, or the Masons. Something like that. But it was never more than a passing notion that, for whatever reason, never really took hold in me. That is, until I could make it part of the alien conspiracy.

And it progressed from there. Soon I was doubting not only all the people I knew, who I was absolutely convinced were involved, but every stranger I saw on the street. They all had to know. How could they not know about this alien conspiracy? To me it was so obvious that it was going on, there were so many clues that I no longer doubted it in any way. The only reason that I could gather for their supposed ignorance of this fact was that they were all in on it. They had to be. It was the only answer that made any sense.

All in all, I was getting more and more crazy by leaps and bounds. By the end of the second year, I was so convinced in the evilness of the aliens that were ready to invade at any time, that there was no amount of proof in the world that could have brought me back to the common reality. I had managed to ditch all of my friends completely and spent most of my time locked in my apartment, scouring the internet and TV for signs of the coming invasion.

I had quit my job because my boss was having us make parts for the alien spaceships. I ventured outside only to cash my unemployment checks. And to get groceries, which consisted solely of cans of beef ravioli; for some reason that I’m still not certain of, it was the only thing I thought was safe to eat.

I was truly enjoying my insanity, no matter how depressing, lonely, and unhealthy it may sound to you. Granted, I did not do too many things with others, or leave my house at all, or do any of the recreational activities that are so common and fun in your reality. I was a complete hermit, I admit, and my appearance and overall health were very poor, to say the least.

But deep down I loved every minute of it. It was exciting to think that aliens were really here. That they were about to take over the world. It was so much better than the constant monotony of normal reality, where nothing new ever really happened, and there was no real sense of direction to things.

It made me feel important to think that they would want to spy on me. As if I held some power over them that they could not defeat. That I, and I alone, held the aliens at bay from the domination of the world, that I was the only one who could save the Earth. I felt like such a... well, I felt like a hero, the greatest hero there ever has been. True, there were times I thought I was going to die of fright, or I was certain that aliens were going to jump out from behind a bush or something and vaporize me on the spot, but that comes with the territory. It was all so wonderfully romantic, just like in the movies. I felt needed, relevant, even if nobody else knew it. It was all going so well.

And that was where I stood with my madness when the aliens landed.

It was quite an unexpected turn, one that I did know was within my potential. It is one thing to imagine near sightings of something into aliens just around the corner, yet it is totally another actually to be insane enough so quickly that you make everyone around you see them as well.

Within mere days of the aliens’ landing in the middle of Pennsylvania and meeting with the world leaders, there was absolutely nothing else anyone could talk about. Every station on the entire planet was showing continuous coverage of them. They had communicated only a few words publicly, which the TV and internet juicily showed over and over again, and brought on experts who would over-analyze what they had meant, and what their intentions would most likely be, and anything else that they could think to talk about concerning the aliens.

These aliens, whom we all call Centaurians, had quickly made a treaty with all the world governments, and had given over the secrets to countless technologies that are improving life on Earth even as we speak. They asked for very little in return. Just information on our race’s history, cultures, political systems. Biological samples of plants, animals, including humans, and other things of a purely educational or intellectual basis. I read in the news today that the aliens had traded a highly advanced form of cold fission to England for the University of Reading’s collected archives of Samuel Beckett.

The Centaurians don’t seem to have any interest in taking over the world in any way. They could have easily defeated all the human armies by now if they had any use for this planet, for food, slaves, resources, whatever, and they have not made the slightest attempt to conquer anything. Overall they seem quite pacifistic. The general consensus of the world about them is they are exactly what they seem, a race that places enormous value in great works of literature, in science, or information about our culture and history, and nothing in dominating our race in a political or authoritarian way. Which is not at all how I had imagined them in my mind.

Why were they following me around so much is a question that I cannot exactly answer. When they first landed, I thought that one of them, or maybe even a whole platoon of them, would be knocking on my door at any moment. But they haven’t. I have yet to even see one of them in person, only the images of them on the television set. And I’ve also noticed regretfully that, ever since they landed, they don’t seem to have any interest in following me around anymore.

It has been almost a year since the aliens first plopped down on this planet, and things have mostly calmed back down to the way the world was before, except for the obvious changes. Here and there when another deal or new extension of the treaty with the Centaurians is either talked about or signed, it does make the news, but not at the same level of wonder that those first few weeks had. Things have gone quietly back down to “business as usual” in everyday life.

You would expect that I would be thrilled that my madness had reached such dizzying heights, that I had been able to completely absorb myself in my delusion. That I had gone, in such a short time, absolutely and completely insane. And I was positive I had. After all, it’s one thing to be a little off the beaten path of standard reality, or even totally delusional, but this... this takes the cake.

However, this reality has turned to be as boring as the original one I escaped. It was better when I was the only one who believed in this world, the only one who had a grasp on this reality. And I was, therefore, the senior authority and the most important person in it. Now that my delusion is so far-reaching and powerful that everyone believes it to be true, I am back down to where I was before, with a life just as boring and pointless and meaningless as it had ever been. This idea of mine, this goal that I have been reaching toward for years, has come full circle and I find myself right back where I started. And that simply won’t do. Not at all.

I am slightly disappointed that this reality turned out to be such a dud. Regrettably, I am inclined to believe that I am going to have start all over again, and go insane in a totally different way.

I think this time I will convince myself that I can talk to inanimate objects. Anything to break the boredom.