In the Beginning
Angeles National Forest, California, April 18th, 2011
Special Agent Justin Meyers is a good man. Well-liked by his co-workers and supervisors. A career as an analyst with the FBI isn’t exciting in the Hollywood way but it is satisfying, knowing that the work he does saves lives and protects a nation. This change will be something entirely new for him.
Justin took a deep breath, the smell of fresh cut pine permeated everything. Sunbeams cut through the trees burning off the morning dew, it was going to be a hot day. He looked over at Alexander Eriksson as he held his wife’s hand. Alex nodded his head slightly. Justin turned to the small group gathered directly in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press corps. You have been invited here today for a very special announcement. We apologize for the short notice but the necessity for this will become clear shortly.
“Congress has approved the creation of a new government agency appointed to deal with this new era that we, the human race, finds ourselves in. Since the arrival of a new type of life on Earth, there are many things to consider for both individuals as well as communities. This is a balance we will attempt to maintain.”
Despite their best efforts the government had lost control of the information about what had happened to people that came in contact with the sentient energy form. Many of the identities of those affected had been locked down but then there were others not so-- fortunate. Lucky? Why are there two words for this?
At the back, past the group of reporters, were four teenagers locked arm in arm with each other. All of them dressed in formal clothes and looking uncomfortable at it. Brendan with his arms crossed tightly in front of him and a perpetual scowl every time he made an appearance. Pangs of regret niggled at Justin’s mind. There had to be more the agency could do for the young man, but what? Justin had not been there from the start, he was a late comer to these things. Everything that could be offered to Brendan had been, most of it he refused, until now.
These young people had made first contact and as such were the ones most profoundly impacted. So far. There are others, we haven’t found yet. It would be some time before their neural pathways would be normalized again, if ever.
The runt of the litter, Derek, is how Justin thinks of him, shuffles from foot to foot as he does when he’s nervous. Kristy and Matt are the least influenced by everything the group has been through. Maybe that is because they have each other. Or perhaps a genetic predisposition of some kind. Only time will tell if it is a nature or nurture induced trait. It will be interesting to see if close sibling relationships have any long term or varying effects on how the mind interplays with the different energy signatures.
They tried to move on with their lives as if history had not been changed, but being hounded by alien hunters, conspiracy theorists, and want-to-be hosts constantly prevented this. Matt and Derek had to finish high school from home on independent study. Brendan and Kristy withdrew from their colleges and quit their jobs to avoid the harassment. Working for and living at the Department will give them the protection and peace that has been robbed from them. As public endorsers and participants with this new program, the public will no longer view them as victims of government negligence.
“The name of this new agency is: The Department of Planetary Affairs. It will be supervised by the Department of Defense. Our main objectives will be to monitor the behavior and activity of these energy forms. We will be a resource for those who finds themselves a paired with one, as well anyone interested in knowing more about them. Our goal and hope is that by working with this new energy form we open up a whole new era in the fields of neuroscience and biochemical engineering as well as particle physics. Not long from now the human race will be venturing into the vastness of space, going into the very void where this energy originates. Anything we can learn now will surely benefit those future explorers.
“As a demonstration of our collaboration I, along with Special Agent Eriksson, have agreed to leave our positions with the FBI to lead this organization.” Eriksson moved away from his wife to stand next to Justin. “We will be co-commanders. Equal in our decision making with equal responsibility for the lives under our charge.” He glanced at the four in the back again, none of them would meet his gaze.
Eriksson stands next to him facing the visitors, his feet shoulder length apart and his hands behind his back. The FBI had recruited him from Air Force Special Ops before any of this had happened. The order and efficiency of his military training are built into everything he does. Eriksson could be the perfect host except that he has rejected the notion entirely.
Justin’s heartrate jumps suddenly as he rehearses his next line repeatedly. Now it is about to get uncomfortable. He is hyperaware of the temperature even though the atmospheric level has only changed two degrees since he started speaking.
“In order to fully embrace our mission statement of mutual understanding I have made the choice to become a host.”
Choice. A construct. One worth dying for, as evidenced by thousands of years of civilization. The belief in this construct is a hardwired need even if the concept itself is not.
Justin’s last declaration causes people to stare at each other. Sharp tones amongst the mumbling make it clear that this is a surprise and perhaps shock to everyone, as had been the intention. The reporters had been informed only a few hours before and forced to sign gag orders to prevent fanatics and radicals from finding out about the event. Even now, military personnel patrolled the forest and watched all roads and paths within a ten mile radius creating a protective perimeter to ensure there are no unexpected interruptions.
“With myself as a host and Special Agent Eriksson as a non-host, together we will represent both sides of this issue. And thus the purpose of our dual leadership.”
Two men from the DoD carry a large a silver case up to him. The material of the silver case is of no significance to the contents except that the perception of a silver case in government matters means whatever is inside is extremely valuable and/or classified. It gives weight to the importance of the thing inside but otherwise it is irrelevant.
“In an effort to demonstrate to the American public that there is a future and a hope when we open ourselves up to things we may not understand in the present. I will now become a host. Right here, on site of our future facility.
This moment will be recorded in the history books and so is the most critical. The hysteria around being “contaminated” had reached epic proportions at one point. This public display will show people that they have nothing to fear. That working together has benefits that far outweigh the dangers.
After entering a code only he knows, Justin opens the case. Cradled inside between chunks of black foam is a glass cylinder. Powerful electromagnets on each end create an artificial gravity well.
With both hands he lifts the container up for everyone to see. At the center of the glass column is a single point of light. A blinding white light that makes spots swim in front of most people’s eyes if looked at directly even for just a moment.
“This is the specific energy signature that helped Agents Miranda Grant and Alexander Eriksson apprehend the rogue hosts. Miranda had been the host until her untimely death. Since Miranda is no longer with us, I am honored to take up this charge in her place. She would have been a better leader, but since a part of her resides with this entity she is still with us, after a fashion.”
He smiled bitterly. Sometimes he heard her voice in his head like a guardian angel when talking to people. They had not worked together but her reputation as a person of compassion, integrity, and loyalty was well known.
For the greater good.
A few camera shutters click, he gripped the canister tighter. Justin lowers the glass cylinder, turning it in his hands, aware of the cool glass against his palms. He places his thumb over the power switch, a brief image passes through his mind of the cylinder dropping to the ground and the sharp sound of the glass breaking. Usually they would feel the pull of the electromagnets at each end but not today.
The audience is silent. He presses the power switch. The bright pin point of light inside the glass disappeared instantaneously.
Close eyes, drop chin drop into chest. He hates this. As an analyst he never had to be a keep up any kind of public façade. Tense shoulders. Breathe steady. For the greater good.
“Justin?” He heard Eriksson’s voice nearby.
“Draegg.” Justin gives a sigh of relief. “As co-commander of the DPA I will be known by the name Draegg.”
No applause. Just clicking of camera shutters and avid note taking, video had been prohibited. Dead and dry pine needles crunch underfoot as people shift in discomfort. The reporters do not know how to react. Their faces are hard to interpret. Fear and uncertainty. Concern maybe for how he is feeling. It does seem that they have all moved back from him, but he had not noted the distance between them before so there is no way to know for sure.
Justin shook himself. “This ground here today will be the site our future facility. This new facility will be a place of tolerance,” he looked at the four in the back; still no eye contact, “scientific inquiry, and mutual understanding.
“As a government agency our highest value will be transparency. We, the leadership of the DoD and DPA, know that we have lost the public trust in regards to the events surrounding this phenomenon. It is our promise to the people of the United States that we will disclose any information we can that will benefit the community at large while protecting the individuals involved.”
Justin lifted his hand in the air, waving someone forward. Two men carrying a large, round disc under black cloth came around and waited next to him. To an onlooker it must have looked similar to a kitchen table without the legs.
“At this time we would like to present to you the seal of this new department.”
The two men hoisted the object so that it was perpendicular to the ground. Gravity did the rest with cloth as it slid from the edge and floated to the ground revealing a blue and green emblem with a double headed bird. At the dead center, an image of Earth.
Eriksson stepped forward, hands behind his back, his voice rang out clearly. “The double headed eagle represents the dual nature of being a host. You see in its talons an olive branch to symbolize peace. Around the edge are eighty-nine white dots to represent all the energy signatures in a complete grouping. And finally, the dominant colors of blue and green. Green for Earth and blue for the sky and by proxy, space.” He stepped back to indicate he was finished.
Scattered, polite clapping is swallowed up into the open air. The men carry the seal off to the side where a stand has been brought for it. After securing it into position they move to the back again so the audience will forget they are there.
Draegg looks past the crowd to the four teenagers at the back staring straight back at him. “Together we will understand.”
Special Agent Justin Meyers is a good man so he is uncomfortable with this orchestrated display. The first word that came to his mind, their mind, was fabricated. But he also realizes its importance and changed the way he thought about it. Even after several weeks they are still adjusting to each other.
Commander Draegg examines the empty glass canister in his hand, careful to make sure that his thumb does not hit the power switch. If that were to happen, the faux light would reappear and the whole ruse would be a PR disaster. It had been a fair simulation of what they look like. There has never been a public display of their kind before. The DPA would see to it that there would not be another so it did not matter what it looks like as long as the public believes it.
For the greater good.
Special Agent Justin Meyers is a good man. Well-liked by his co-workers and supervisors. A career as an analyst with the FBI isn’t exciting in the Hollywood way but it is satisfying, knowing that the work he does saves lives and protects a nation. This change will be something entirely new for him.
Justin took a deep breath, the smell of fresh cut pine permeated everything. Sunbeams cut through the trees burning off the morning dew, it was going to be a hot day. He looked over at Alexander Eriksson as he held his wife’s hand. Alex nodded his head slightly. Justin turned to the small group gathered directly in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen of the press corps. You have been invited here today for a very special announcement. We apologize for the short notice but the necessity for this will become clear shortly.
“Congress has approved the creation of a new government agency appointed to deal with this new era that we, the human race, finds ourselves in. Since the arrival of a new type of life on Earth, there are many things to consider for both individuals as well as communities. This is a balance we will attempt to maintain.”
Despite their best efforts the government had lost control of the information about what had happened to people that came in contact with the sentient energy form. Many of the identities of those affected had been locked down but then there were others not so-- fortunate. Lucky? Why are there two words for this?
At the back, past the group of reporters, were four teenagers locked arm in arm with each other. All of them dressed in formal clothes and looking uncomfortable at it. Brendan with his arms crossed tightly in front of him and a perpetual scowl every time he made an appearance. Pangs of regret niggled at Justin’s mind. There had to be more the agency could do for the young man, but what? Justin had not been there from the start, he was a late comer to these things. Everything that could be offered to Brendan had been, most of it he refused, until now.
These young people had made first contact and as such were the ones most profoundly impacted. So far. There are others, we haven’t found yet. It would be some time before their neural pathways would be normalized again, if ever.
The runt of the litter, Derek, is how Justin thinks of him, shuffles from foot to foot as he does when he’s nervous. Kristy and Matt are the least influenced by everything the group has been through. Maybe that is because they have each other. Or perhaps a genetic predisposition of some kind. Only time will tell if it is a nature or nurture induced trait. It will be interesting to see if close sibling relationships have any long term or varying effects on how the mind interplays with the different energy signatures.
They tried to move on with their lives as if history had not been changed, but being hounded by alien hunters, conspiracy theorists, and want-to-be hosts constantly prevented this. Matt and Derek had to finish high school from home on independent study. Brendan and Kristy withdrew from their colleges and quit their jobs to avoid the harassment. Working for and living at the Department will give them the protection and peace that has been robbed from them. As public endorsers and participants with this new program, the public will no longer view them as victims of government negligence.
“The name of this new agency is: The Department of Planetary Affairs. It will be supervised by the Department of Defense. Our main objectives will be to monitor the behavior and activity of these energy forms. We will be a resource for those who finds themselves a paired with one, as well anyone interested in knowing more about them. Our goal and hope is that by working with this new energy form we open up a whole new era in the fields of neuroscience and biochemical engineering as well as particle physics. Not long from now the human race will be venturing into the vastness of space, going into the very void where this energy originates. Anything we can learn now will surely benefit those future explorers.
“As a demonstration of our collaboration I, along with Special Agent Eriksson, have agreed to leave our positions with the FBI to lead this organization.” Eriksson moved away from his wife to stand next to Justin. “We will be co-commanders. Equal in our decision making with equal responsibility for the lives under our charge.” He glanced at the four in the back again, none of them would meet his gaze.
Eriksson stands next to him facing the visitors, his feet shoulder length apart and his hands behind his back. The FBI had recruited him from Air Force Special Ops before any of this had happened. The order and efficiency of his military training are built into everything he does. Eriksson could be the perfect host except that he has rejected the notion entirely.
Justin’s heartrate jumps suddenly as he rehearses his next line repeatedly. Now it is about to get uncomfortable. He is hyperaware of the temperature even though the atmospheric level has only changed two degrees since he started speaking.
“In order to fully embrace our mission statement of mutual understanding I have made the choice to become a host.”
Choice. A construct. One worth dying for, as evidenced by thousands of years of civilization. The belief in this construct is a hardwired need even if the concept itself is not.
Justin’s last declaration causes people to stare at each other. Sharp tones amongst the mumbling make it clear that this is a surprise and perhaps shock to everyone, as had been the intention. The reporters had been informed only a few hours before and forced to sign gag orders to prevent fanatics and radicals from finding out about the event. Even now, military personnel patrolled the forest and watched all roads and paths within a ten mile radius creating a protective perimeter to ensure there are no unexpected interruptions.
“With myself as a host and Special Agent Eriksson as a non-host, together we will represent both sides of this issue. And thus the purpose of our dual leadership.”
Two men from the DoD carry a large a silver case up to him. The material of the silver case is of no significance to the contents except that the perception of a silver case in government matters means whatever is inside is extremely valuable and/or classified. It gives weight to the importance of the thing inside but otherwise it is irrelevant.
“In an effort to demonstrate to the American public that there is a future and a hope when we open ourselves up to things we may not understand in the present. I will now become a host. Right here, on site of our future facility.
This moment will be recorded in the history books and so is the most critical. The hysteria around being “contaminated” had reached epic proportions at one point. This public display will show people that they have nothing to fear. That working together has benefits that far outweigh the dangers.
After entering a code only he knows, Justin opens the case. Cradled inside between chunks of black foam is a glass cylinder. Powerful electromagnets on each end create an artificial gravity well.
With both hands he lifts the container up for everyone to see. At the center of the glass column is a single point of light. A blinding white light that makes spots swim in front of most people’s eyes if looked at directly even for just a moment.
“This is the specific energy signature that helped Agents Miranda Grant and Alexander Eriksson apprehend the rogue hosts. Miranda had been the host until her untimely death. Since Miranda is no longer with us, I am honored to take up this charge in her place. She would have been a better leader, but since a part of her resides with this entity she is still with us, after a fashion.”
He smiled bitterly. Sometimes he heard her voice in his head like a guardian angel when talking to people. They had not worked together but her reputation as a person of compassion, integrity, and loyalty was well known.
For the greater good.
A few camera shutters click, he gripped the canister tighter. Justin lowers the glass cylinder, turning it in his hands, aware of the cool glass against his palms. He places his thumb over the power switch, a brief image passes through his mind of the cylinder dropping to the ground and the sharp sound of the glass breaking. Usually they would feel the pull of the electromagnets at each end but not today.
The audience is silent. He presses the power switch. The bright pin point of light inside the glass disappeared instantaneously.
Close eyes, drop chin drop into chest. He hates this. As an analyst he never had to be a keep up any kind of public façade. Tense shoulders. Breathe steady. For the greater good.
“Justin?” He heard Eriksson’s voice nearby.
“Draegg.” Justin gives a sigh of relief. “As co-commander of the DPA I will be known by the name Draegg.”
No applause. Just clicking of camera shutters and avid note taking, video had been prohibited. Dead and dry pine needles crunch underfoot as people shift in discomfort. The reporters do not know how to react. Their faces are hard to interpret. Fear and uncertainty. Concern maybe for how he is feeling. It does seem that they have all moved back from him, but he had not noted the distance between them before so there is no way to know for sure.
Justin shook himself. “This ground here today will be the site our future facility. This new facility will be a place of tolerance,” he looked at the four in the back; still no eye contact, “scientific inquiry, and mutual understanding.
“As a government agency our highest value will be transparency. We, the leadership of the DoD and DPA, know that we have lost the public trust in regards to the events surrounding this phenomenon. It is our promise to the people of the United States that we will disclose any information we can that will benefit the community at large while protecting the individuals involved.”
Justin lifted his hand in the air, waving someone forward. Two men carrying a large, round disc under black cloth came around and waited next to him. To an onlooker it must have looked similar to a kitchen table without the legs.
“At this time we would like to present to you the seal of this new department.”
The two men hoisted the object so that it was perpendicular to the ground. Gravity did the rest with cloth as it slid from the edge and floated to the ground revealing a blue and green emblem with a double headed bird. At the dead center, an image of Earth.
Eriksson stepped forward, hands behind his back, his voice rang out clearly. “The double headed eagle represents the dual nature of being a host. You see in its talons an olive branch to symbolize peace. Around the edge are eighty-nine white dots to represent all the energy signatures in a complete grouping. And finally, the dominant colors of blue and green. Green for Earth and blue for the sky and by proxy, space.” He stepped back to indicate he was finished.
Scattered, polite clapping is swallowed up into the open air. The men carry the seal off to the side where a stand has been brought for it. After securing it into position they move to the back again so the audience will forget they are there.
Draegg looks past the crowd to the four teenagers at the back staring straight back at him. “Together we will understand.”
Special Agent Justin Meyers is a good man so he is uncomfortable with this orchestrated display. The first word that came to his mind, their mind, was fabricated. But he also realizes its importance and changed the way he thought about it. Even after several weeks they are still adjusting to each other.
Commander Draegg examines the empty glass canister in his hand, careful to make sure that his thumb does not hit the power switch. If that were to happen, the faux light would reappear and the whole ruse would be a PR disaster. It had been a fair simulation of what they look like. There has never been a public display of their kind before. The DPA would see to it that there would not be another so it did not matter what it looks like as long as the public believes it.
For the greater good.
First Day
Angeles National Forest, 2002
It was no coincidence that this was happening now. If Jessica had known that her 21st birthday extravaganza was also a going away party she would have packed her bags and left before her parents returned home from New York. Even as she daydreamed about a life of cruising the Santa Monica Freeway with the top down on her vintage Mustang and lounging on the beach with her friends she knew that it would be short lived. Her only source of income came from her parents and they would not let her live on their money without set conditions.
She had watched the skyline of her beloved city disappear in the rearview mirror and now all she could see were acres of trees. The black Mercedes careened up the narrow asphalt road deeper into forest and farther away from everything she knew and loved. Dad had already given his speech about how she needed to make her own way in the world. Mom reiterated her top ten life lessons list: you get what you put in, treat other as you wanted to be treated and so on. Dad finished off with another rendition of how special this job was, that he had called in a lot of favors to get it and to uphold the family name by acting in a way worth of it.
After a failed attempt at university and months of quitting internships and jobs in various fields this job had been set as the line in the sand. Her path to be being a responsible adult lay with public relations. She didn’t even know what that meant exactly. What did a PR person do on a day to day basis? Mom said that it meant she had to be the cheerleader for the whole organization. Which didn’t sound too bad but not very practical when there isn’t a team playing a game. Her only consolation was that the organization had a high public profile and the potential for putting her in the spot light if she did a good job.
Going to work, getting a job, working nine to five. Any way you put it she wanted to tear her hair out. It all sounded so incredibly boring. When asked what she wanted to do all she could think about was being with her friends. If there was job where they could all be together then maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. School was a necessary evil and studying has never been her strength. The only good part about going to school was seeing her friends, but you don’t get paid to do that.
The car came to smooth halt. So had her parents but she couldn’t be sure when that happened. Leaning forward between them she could they were stopped at an imposing gate behind another car. A wall stretched out in both directions, the top of it reached beyond the edge of the windshield. On the wall to the right of the gate was a giant seal with a double headed bird that read, Department of Planetary Affairs around the edge.
She had understood this was a government agency. It’s how she got the job in the first place. Her father, as a member of the Senate, pulled some strings to get her the position. As a government job she would have steady pay and benefits and if she made a good impression it was possible she could transfer to other departments in a few years.
The car rolled forward to the gatehouse. A guy in a black uniform asked for ID. After cross checking it with his clipboard they were directed where to park. Dad gave his thanks to the man and they continued on. Jessica looked back as the monstrous gate rolled shut behind them. The man wore cargo pants. She didn’t want to wear cargo pants. Black did nothing for her complexion. Los Angeles might as well have been on another continent.
“Come on.” Dad climbed out of the driver’s side, and ducked his head back inside. “Time to meet your new co-workers.” He knocked on the hood of the car before going to the back for her luggage.
Mom waited for her to exit the car. Jessica smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt and met her mother’s nervous gaze. Mother clasped both of her hands, a gesture that always made her feel like she was a little girl. “Call us in a couple days. Let us know how you are.” She hugged Jessica tightly.
They had done this before, when they dropped her off at college. That time, there had been an anticipation and excitement for both her and her parents. Going to university had been the promise of new and endless possibilities. Now she just felt a rock in the pit of her stomach that came with a last resort. If mom’s grip on her was any indication she felt the same way.
Dad walked up with her roller bags. Being reduced to just two suitcases had been humiliating. She hoped to bring more next time she was let out. He let go of the bags and waited for her to take the handles. “If you need anything you know you can call us.” That would be as emotional as he got. But she also knew that for him to take the time to drive her here was also his way of being supportive. He could have made mom do it by herself or had one of his aides drop her off but he didn’t.
Mom kissed her on both cheeks. “Let’s us know when your first holiday is and we’ll send a car to bring you home.”
“I still might have to work you know.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I know, just whenever your first break is.”
Jessica nodded and tugged on the handles of a bag. “Thanks for the ride.” She thought about her apple red Mustang sitting idle in their garage. “Drive carefully.” She looked back at them one last time as she neared the entrance. Mom waved at her as dad got back into the car. Jessica examined the front façade of the structure, grey and darker grey. Time to get serious.
The doors opened automatically at her approach. Inside the cool lobby three people waited for her. Two were men in the same black uniforms she has seen at the gate. One the size of a linebacker with brown hair and super short haircut. He had a blue stripe running down each arm and a gun strapped to his leg. In the middle was an older man, his hair was a mix of gray and blond. He smiled at her and she looked at each of them. His uniform had green stripes on each arm and no weapon she could see.
“Hi!” The girl to his left waved at Jessica. She looked to be about the same age as Jessica. She wore a long flowing skirt with some sort of geometric pattern and a peach tank top with ivory lace accents. Her hands and forearms were stained with splotches of matte color, purples, blues, greens, and yellows. One of those bohemian types. Jessica never hung out with any one like her. Maybe partners for a class project but not by choice.
“Hello.” Jessica stopped and let go of the bags.
“I’m Kristy.” The girl rushed forward and hugged her. “So glad you’re here.” Kristy moved back in line with the two men.
“Miss Davis.” The oldest one stepped forward to shake her hand. “I am Commander Draegg. Welcome to the DPA.”
“Thank you.” She attempted to sound confident.
“This is Commander Eriksson.” He indicated the big guy.
Commander Eriksson shook her hand. “Miss Davis.” He nodded and stepped back.
Commander Dreagg continued. “We are both in charge of this organization, if you need anything please feel free to approach either of us. Kristy here is going to take you to your quarters and get you settled in.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” As the daughter of a politician she had learned long ago how to interact with people with an air of graciousness even if she could not relate to or understand them.
“Why don’t you meet me in my office at fourteen hundred hours and we will talk about your job.”
“Fourteen?”
Kristy put her hand to one side of her mouth. “He means two o’clock.”
Jessica nodded her thanks. “Yes, of course. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Davis.”
Kristy immediately took a hold of Jessica’s largest suitcase. “Living quarters are this way.” She started walking toward the wall on the left side of room. “After that I’ll show you around and introduce you to the guys.”
“Guys?” Jessica said hopefully, standing a little taller.
Kristy looked back at her and shook her head. “Not like that.”
Jessica’s shoulder slumped again as she dragged the smaller case behind her.
As she moved behind the two commanders a display came into plain view. A black rock suspended above the floor with lights shining up from the floor. She had never seen the rock before but she knew exactly what it was. When it had crashed a few years back it had created quite a stir, being that it had impacted near such a large population center. Shortly after that, a panic of another kind set in.
“This is the place that deals with the aliens?”
Kristy looked back at her as she walked. “Yes.” She half laughed. The wall slid open as they came within a foot of it. “Most people call them Elbie.”
It was no coincidence that this was happening now. If Jessica had known that her 21st birthday extravaganza was also a going away party she would have packed her bags and left before her parents returned home from New York. Even as she daydreamed about a life of cruising the Santa Monica Freeway with the top down on her vintage Mustang and lounging on the beach with her friends she knew that it would be short lived. Her only source of income came from her parents and they would not let her live on their money without set conditions.
She had watched the skyline of her beloved city disappear in the rearview mirror and now all she could see were acres of trees. The black Mercedes careened up the narrow asphalt road deeper into forest and farther away from everything she knew and loved. Dad had already given his speech about how she needed to make her own way in the world. Mom reiterated her top ten life lessons list: you get what you put in, treat other as you wanted to be treated and so on. Dad finished off with another rendition of how special this job was, that he had called in a lot of favors to get it and to uphold the family name by acting in a way worth of it.
After a failed attempt at university and months of quitting internships and jobs in various fields this job had been set as the line in the sand. Her path to be being a responsible adult lay with public relations. She didn’t even know what that meant exactly. What did a PR person do on a day to day basis? Mom said that it meant she had to be the cheerleader for the whole organization. Which didn’t sound too bad but not very practical when there isn’t a team playing a game. Her only consolation was that the organization had a high public profile and the potential for putting her in the spot light if she did a good job.
Going to work, getting a job, working nine to five. Any way you put it she wanted to tear her hair out. It all sounded so incredibly boring. When asked what she wanted to do all she could think about was being with her friends. If there was job where they could all be together then maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. School was a necessary evil and studying has never been her strength. The only good part about going to school was seeing her friends, but you don’t get paid to do that.
The car came to smooth halt. So had her parents but she couldn’t be sure when that happened. Leaning forward between them she could they were stopped at an imposing gate behind another car. A wall stretched out in both directions, the top of it reached beyond the edge of the windshield. On the wall to the right of the gate was a giant seal with a double headed bird that read, Department of Planetary Affairs around the edge.
She had understood this was a government agency. It’s how she got the job in the first place. Her father, as a member of the Senate, pulled some strings to get her the position. As a government job she would have steady pay and benefits and if she made a good impression it was possible she could transfer to other departments in a few years.
The car rolled forward to the gatehouse. A guy in a black uniform asked for ID. After cross checking it with his clipboard they were directed where to park. Dad gave his thanks to the man and they continued on. Jessica looked back as the monstrous gate rolled shut behind them. The man wore cargo pants. She didn’t want to wear cargo pants. Black did nothing for her complexion. Los Angeles might as well have been on another continent.
“Come on.” Dad climbed out of the driver’s side, and ducked his head back inside. “Time to meet your new co-workers.” He knocked on the hood of the car before going to the back for her luggage.
Mom waited for her to exit the car. Jessica smoothed the wrinkles out of her skirt and met her mother’s nervous gaze. Mother clasped both of her hands, a gesture that always made her feel like she was a little girl. “Call us in a couple days. Let us know how you are.” She hugged Jessica tightly.
They had done this before, when they dropped her off at college. That time, there had been an anticipation and excitement for both her and her parents. Going to university had been the promise of new and endless possibilities. Now she just felt a rock in the pit of her stomach that came with a last resort. If mom’s grip on her was any indication she felt the same way.
Dad walked up with her roller bags. Being reduced to just two suitcases had been humiliating. She hoped to bring more next time she was let out. He let go of the bags and waited for her to take the handles. “If you need anything you know you can call us.” That would be as emotional as he got. But she also knew that for him to take the time to drive her here was also his way of being supportive. He could have made mom do it by herself or had one of his aides drop her off but he didn’t.
Mom kissed her on both cheeks. “Let’s us know when your first holiday is and we’ll send a car to bring you home.”
“I still might have to work you know.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.
“I know, just whenever your first break is.”
Jessica nodded and tugged on the handles of a bag. “Thanks for the ride.” She thought about her apple red Mustang sitting idle in their garage. “Drive carefully.” She looked back at them one last time as she neared the entrance. Mom waved at her as dad got back into the car. Jessica examined the front façade of the structure, grey and darker grey. Time to get serious.
The doors opened automatically at her approach. Inside the cool lobby three people waited for her. Two were men in the same black uniforms she has seen at the gate. One the size of a linebacker with brown hair and super short haircut. He had a blue stripe running down each arm and a gun strapped to his leg. In the middle was an older man, his hair was a mix of gray and blond. He smiled at her and she looked at each of them. His uniform had green stripes on each arm and no weapon she could see.
“Hi!” The girl to his left waved at Jessica. She looked to be about the same age as Jessica. She wore a long flowing skirt with some sort of geometric pattern and a peach tank top with ivory lace accents. Her hands and forearms were stained with splotches of matte color, purples, blues, greens, and yellows. One of those bohemian types. Jessica never hung out with any one like her. Maybe partners for a class project but not by choice.
“Hello.” Jessica stopped and let go of the bags.
“I’m Kristy.” The girl rushed forward and hugged her. “So glad you’re here.” Kristy moved back in line with the two men.
“Miss Davis.” The oldest one stepped forward to shake her hand. “I am Commander Draegg. Welcome to the DPA.”
“Thank you.” She attempted to sound confident.
“This is Commander Eriksson.” He indicated the big guy.
Commander Eriksson shook her hand. “Miss Davis.” He nodded and stepped back.
Commander Dreagg continued. “We are both in charge of this organization, if you need anything please feel free to approach either of us. Kristy here is going to take you to your quarters and get you settled in.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.” As the daughter of a politician she had learned long ago how to interact with people with an air of graciousness even if she could not relate to or understand them.
“Why don’t you meet me in my office at fourteen hundred hours and we will talk about your job.”
“Fourteen?”
Kristy put her hand to one side of her mouth. “He means two o’clock.”
Jessica nodded her thanks. “Yes, of course. Thank you for this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Davis.”
Kristy immediately took a hold of Jessica’s largest suitcase. “Living quarters are this way.” She started walking toward the wall on the left side of room. “After that I’ll show you around and introduce you to the guys.”
“Guys?” Jessica said hopefully, standing a little taller.
Kristy looked back at her and shook her head. “Not like that.”
Jessica’s shoulder slumped again as she dragged the smaller case behind her.
As she moved behind the two commanders a display came into plain view. A black rock suspended above the floor with lights shining up from the floor. She had never seen the rock before but she knew exactly what it was. When it had crashed a few years back it had created quite a stir, being that it had impacted near such a large population center. Shortly after that, a panic of another kind set in.
“This is the place that deals with the aliens?”
Kristy looked back at her as she walked. “Yes.” She half laughed. The wall slid open as they came within a foot of it. “Most people call them Elbie.”
Gifted
The innocuous looking box sits on the corner of David’s desk, perfectly aligned to the edges. He likes it when his assistant does that. The shipping label is nondescript and gives no indication of what company it is from or what kind of products they offer. Completely inert and yet he feels his blood pressure rising at the thought of its contents.
David doesn’t believe in destiny. Such mystical notions are childish. Feature articles, podcast interviews, blog posts, and personal appearances all tout his brilliance and his quiet climb to power from a humble patent clerk to the Director of the Unites States Patent and Trademark Office in only a matter of months. The American dream prescribes hard, honest work to be rewarded with a rich and fulfilling life. Whenever someone bestows accolades on him for his forward thinking and innovative genius this is the line he gives them.
When asked, he claims to have done nothing extraordinary. He makes decisions and takes risks that make sense in their context. It’s what anyone would do given the same information and options. It is a source of constant bafflement to him. It’s all so obvious and natural to David. One step leads to the next logical step, then another, and so on. Simple. All the fuss and analysis really is unnecessary.
David had spent years as a clerk, doing the work set before him, never looking for anything more than the next stack of documents to file, his next paycheck, the next government mandated holiday. All “I”s were dotted and all “T”s were crossed. Then one day he took a step back and he could see the whole picture and not just the one square inch allotted to him. And for the first time in his life he had decided to do something about what he saw, to be the agent of change in the world, as suggested by greater men.
But in truth it wasn’t just any day. It had been a succession of days that had changed him. He doesn’t like thinking that this is the case and he tells himself it was just coincidence, but it has never let him go.
* * *
It was the same as any other day because that was how he liked it. Order. Routine. No surprises. At the time he had had the same address for forty years. The same barber for fifteen. The same alarm clock since he was in college. He called his sister every Sunday at 6pm. He wrote his nephew once a month. He paid his bills as soon as they were due and he never answered the door unless the person had called ahead. The postman knew to use a special knock.
Leaves were changing from bright summer green to yellow as autumn settled in. He had his lunch in the usual place, a small park across the street from the office. Right bench, right side, in case someone else wanted to sit on the same bench. But they never did. Turkey, cheddar, mustard, no mayo. When he was feeling adventurous it would be Monterey Jack instead. Otherwise his lunch was as predictable as his schedule.
As he ate his sandwich and thought about the order of actions he would take after lunch, a woman walked into the small park. She wore plain brown flats, a skirt that covered her knees and a cardigan over her button up top. She looked around the parklet uncertainly. Their eyes met. She smiled. David looked away and pretended to be searching for something in his lunch bag.
“Hello.” The girl said to him as she sat down. On his bench. On the far side of it, but there were at least two other benches she could have picked from. She set her thermal bag in her lap and started organizing her food around her. Since it seemed like she did not require a response he kept eating, making sure his interest was on watching the birds in the trees or anything else that would discourage conversation.
After she had laid out her meal, she opened her fruit cup and started eating. Within a few bites she looked at him. “I’m Pandora.” She took another fork full of peaches. “I know, I know. My mom’s name was Cassandra. I guess my parents decided to go with the tragic Greek figure theme. I’ll have to name my daughter Antigone. In a way all Greek figures are tragic, don’t you think?” She looked at him but moved on without him. In this manner she talked the whole time. Including him in her conversation but requiring nothing of him.
On the third day of this she asked for his name.
He already knew that she was a receptionist temp from the building across from his. Her favorite pet growing up was her cat Spotty who was mostly black but had a white spot on his forehead and chest, thus the reason for the name. Her major in college was English and her favorite course was the political satire of the late seventeen hundreds. Mustard was too tart as food but the best color for fall leaves. All of this, and more, had been offered to him, giving his name in return couldn’t hurt.
“David.” He answered after a moment.
“So glad to meet you, David.” She held out her hand.
He had not expected that. He did not want to be rude. He wiped his hands on a napkin, her hand suspended in mid–air waiting for his. He forced a smile and took her hand. Her palm was hot, as if she had just been holding a fresh cup of tea. She released his hand and picked up her fruit cup.
“David is such a great name.” They continued their meal as she went about explaining who her favorite David’s were through history.
So it went for several days, each getting shorter and the sun colder than the last. They both wore additional layers but still ate at the same time and place as they had all the days prior.
“It’s supposed to snow late tonight.” David reported and took a sip from his thermos, letting the steam warm his face.
Pandora looked to the sky and took a deep breath. “Today’s my last day.”
David didn’t know what to say. He had become accustomed to her conversations. Sitting on the park bench alone no longer appealed to him. “Oh.”
“Yeah, I start a new assignment tomorrow.” She set down her fruit cup and looked at him. “Thank you for being my friend.”
He had never been one for words, but now he found he was completely devoid of them. David nodded his head.
She placed her hand on top his wrist. It was hot to the touch, more so than it had been the when they shook hands. He shivered.
“You’re sweet. Good-bye, David Dresher.”
Her hand was still on his wrist. He had never told her his last name.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. His brain failed him, neither flight or fight had kicked in, he was paralyzed, stuck to that park bench like he was a part of it. The world burned white hot as he tried recall how she could know his last name.
He had been kissed once before, by a girl in his music class. They sat next to each other every day, sharing the same music stand as they played clarinet. They had been practicing in one of the sound proof rooms for an upcoming concert. They were the only clarinetists and there was to be a ten bar solo, they both wanted it to be perfect. He was the better player and he had stayed after school to give her pointers. Just before leaving she hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. It was so sudden he didn’t know what to do. She giggled and waved at him as she rushed out the door leaving young David in a daze.
A digital beeping snapped him out of the memory. He looked down at his calculator watch. Lunch was over. He looked around. He was alone. Not only that, he had his sandwich in his hands, paused midway to his mouth. There was no sign of Pandora anywhere. He threw the sandwich in the garbage and rushed back to work.
As usual, he went into the bathroom to wash up before returning to his tasks. As he looked at himself in the mirror he noticed the blush of pink lips on his cheek. A sudden drumming pounded in his ears, he felt light headed. He used extra soap to make sure there was no trace of pigment on his skin. He checked the mirror again, the reflection of the fluorescent bulbs against the black marble walls were brighter than usual. He looked at the vent above the sinks blowing out hot air and pulled his sweater off. He was burning up. He would make an appointment with his doctor right away.
As he returned to work something happened. People looked at him. Some of them even smiled. “Good lunch?” Eric from accounting clapped him on the back as he past him in the hallway. “Beautiful sweater.” Shelly from HR commented as she cruised by his cubicle. Anyone who walked by him said something or did something. Friendly gestures and casual comments had not been part of his prior interactions with his co-workers. Usually they looked past him like he was an apparition that haunted the hallway but now they took notice of him.
He called his doctor. Diagnosis, negative. More than negative. Since his last check up, less than six months ago, his blood pressure was down and his insulin levels had evened out. The friendly gestures and casual comments led to actions. People asked him out to lunch and he accepted, with reluctance at first. Within a few short months he had friends. There were people in his life that wished him happy birthday and asked him to their house for celebrations.
When the snow had thawed and the sun warmed, he returned to the park when he could but Pandora never did.
* * *
Whenever he wonders about how she learned his full name, a sadness comes over him and he misses her quite kindness. Her friendship had done something to him. Thinking back on those days it’s like he is watching another person living that life. He feels no association to the man he had been. What matters is who he was now.
The box waits for his attention. After cutting the tape he peels back the four sides and looks down on a pile of biodegradable foam pellets. Dipping his hands into the pile his fingers find another box within. A smaller silver box shimmers with an electrical current as he brings it closer.
He sits down at his desk and sets the box in front of him. This technology has been available for some time but it was only now that he found the resolve to acquire it. After taking a deep breath he flips up the lid. He feels pressure throbbing in his temples.
A shining silver bracelet gleams under the track lighting. There are no markings of any kind, just a band of black that runs around its center. It is open at the back so it can be put on easily. Once the ends are snapped shut the device will activate. A small card wedged into the lid reads: DPA Certified Technology.
The item is not from the Department of Planetary Affairs directly but it has passed their standards which are the highest in regards to these matters. Certainty is what David wants. The banishment of doubt is what he is looking for.
No matter how many times he thinks it through or the number of possible explanations he can devise for the changes in his life he always comes back to the same conclusion: Elbie.
As beings of pure energy they are easily passed from one person to another. He does not display any of the usual signs of a host; accelerated healing, interference with electronics, or waking visions. No one ever mentions self-confidence or a social life as possible side effects of being a host but there is one way to know for sure.
He is ready for the truth.
He takes his sweater off first. It is always too hot in his office. He will have to tell his assistant to check the thermostat.
Just put the band on. In a few minutes he will know if all he is today is something he had found within the depths of himself or is the result of an outside entity that has been planted there by a friend.
David takes the item out of the box and slips it over his wrist. Blue for Elbie-free, red for not. He snaps the ends shut.
He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Does knowing change anything? What will he do if he has one? Will he register or ask for it be removed? His life has only improved over the years. He is the same person he was ten years ago, just more involved with his world.
His mind fills with burning white heat, like the center of new born star. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He opens his eyes. The silver band is settled in its silver box. David closes the lid. He will have his assistant return it to the company this afternoon. This is who he is and there is no changing that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is an alternate version of this story. To find out more about that, go HERE.