by D.C. Clemens
Chapter Six
Emergence
There was a brief inclination to run to the nearest corner of the room, but before I could wholly dismiss the notion, I heard a familiar voice through the locked entrance.
“Roym! Something is happening to the ship! Get up and come quick!”
The ordinary voice of my mother subsided my rattled nerves to some extent, despite her troubled tone. My torpid gaze met the clock on the nightstand, informing me it was still two hours before dawn’s advent. Pure darkness lounged behind the window curtains, not even the cold gleam of the moons and far-flung stars were hanging in their customary slots. My mother persisted to knock on the door, but did not add more than what was already expressed. She did finally stop when she heard me say, “We’ll be right out!”
Liz stirred next to me and mumbled a few words that I didn’t catch. Once my mind made sure I was in the dimension of the material, I began moving more deliberately. We would have left quicker, but we were by no means ready to show ourselves, since we were completely undressed—a consequence of Liz liking to spite my mother by making love to me almost every night she was in our home. My wife did not waste any time trying to find out what the commotion was all about. The familiar words “Breaking News” emerged before us on the lower end of the screen when she roused our little bedroom television from its respite. Both of us stood almost motionless, rapt by the display. It was a live look at the spacecraft, and its appearance was discernably altered from the last time we beheld it. Bright, sharp blue lines had manifested on its exterior, crisscrossing themselves along all three visible walls and traveling in all directions with no true pattern or design. The only goal they all followed was to gather around the border of the ceiling, where the unnerving light shined at its brightest. The intense light did not seem to lose any dimness to the air, as if some type of invisible force field prohibited any light particle from dispersing freely. The twilight sky was retreating, but even the sun at its most dazzling would have stood no chance to defeat the glow of the alien rays.
According to the telecaster, the blue marks first made their arrival only ten minutes before, with no new activity transpiring since. Liz and I soon joined my mother in the living room to resume our anticipation of the future together. Complete sentences were scarcely spoken between us. There was a peculiar, pervading feeling surrounding us that I sensed was not just confined to our room, but was permeating into the entire waking world. It would also not require a big leap to say that it was interweaving into the domain of our ancestors, who were watching in another not so distant realm. For that tick of the clock, the past, present, and our unforeseen future were all fused to mean one and the same.
Time’s blade sliced off half an hour. I do not believe I moved during the interim. I would have been surprised to learn I had blinked. At any rate, one minute after the elapse of that half hour, change revived itself. The assembled brilliant blue streaks became brighter, which I didn’t think possible an instant before, and they began to move toward the center of the roof lengthwise, dividing it into two equal halves. They next started splitting in opposite directions, unraveling the roof with it. A vague, bluish light, or a color strongly resembling the color blue, gradually came breaching out from the inside, uniting itself with the dimming sky. The roof was completely unsealed in a matter of seconds, a result our finest scientists and engineers would not have accomplished if they were given another century.
When I thought my bewilderment had reached its pinnacle, I was swiftly amended to believe otherwise. I saw, with beads of sweat leaking out my forehead, an object emerge from the depths of the eerie blue light. It was humbled against its keeper, but I knew it could challenge the tallest skyscraper our civilization could offer. The camera faltered as it was struggling to zoom up to the object. As it did, I could see that it was roughly shaped like a screw, though its head was a long crossbar. Other details were difficult to clarify in the fuzzy picture. A teal light was delicately gushing beneath the ends of the farthest points that made its roof, which appeared to be the source of its propulsion, for it was rising gradually under its own influence into the black sky. It was not alone for long. Others identical to the first soon followed behind it.
They all hovered higher and higher in graceful harmony. When their leader reached about a mile above the main vessel, its pace rapidly accelerated. Before I could adjust my eyes to it, it was swallowed by the heavens. Its comrades mimicked their trailblazing leader’s actions when they reached their unseen mark. Before a flash of light expired, they were all gone, leaving behind their progenitor. By my count, twenty-two of the objects appeared and went, which was later confirmed by those counting on television. When her children disappeared from our sights, the mother bade her farewell to us. She closed her roof and her glaring blue lines seemingly vanished into the air itself. She was soundless once again, exactly as she had been when I first laid eyes on her, and yet, now entirely transformed.
We were sitting hushed and inflexible on our red couch, waiting for some signal to stir us again. Liz was to my left and my mother to my right. I had no idea what was dwelling in their minds, but if it was anything resembling mine, I pitied them. I thought we were going to remain in this inert state the rest of the morning, but Liz was strong enough to rebel against the considerable influence.
“Roym, what just happened?”
I was questioning the same matter to myself, without much result, but, for her sake, I could not remain wordless. “Those were clearly other ships,” I began saying, attempting to sound as poised as possible, but I quickly faltered. “I don’t… maybe… maybe they were some type of lifeboats.”
“Do you think they could’ve left?” she asked, showing more optimism than she had ever displayed since the crater was first formed.
“They could have,” I replied, though not sharing in her optimism.
I didn’t wish to spoil her hopeful spirits by dismissing the notion, but through my estimation, that answer seemed too easy. No matter how much I wanted it to be true and how many times I tried to validate the theory, I was always struck with issues that all but destroyed my sanguinities. The shape of the ships were strange and did not give the impression that they were lifeboats. Besides, even if they were some kind of emergency ship, I could not comprehend how they, no matter who they were, would abandon their mothership to simply reside on a planet with a species that could take advantage of the wealth of advanced technology.
About twenty minutes later, our inertia was gone, or as much as it could be, and my mother decided to cook us breakfast. She performed this ritual any time she felt stressed, as she rarely enjoyed fixing meals. My lost appetite returned as soon as the smell and sound of searing bi-bi meat poured into the room. I next saw it in front of me, fresh out of the frying pan. I eagerly gobbled down a bite, tasting its perfect balance of crispness and intertwined moistness. Just as I swallowed its splendor, practically on cue, the stomach churning words “Breaking News” flashed like fire on the screen in front of me. The broadcaster I had come to know so well the last few weeks came into view. His visible weariness did not transpire to his steady voice.
“We are receiving new reports from our various affiliates,” he hurriedly began to say, wanting to skip the formalities and begin the real story, “that the latest ships we just witnessed are appearing in cities all across the world.” While he addressed his audience, the screen directed us to one of the ships we beheld not too far in the past, still floating high in its vertical position. The video appeared to come from a low flying helicopter. “These are live images from Qerth, a city approximately four hundred miles south of Dorvale,” he continued, not even attempting to conceal his restlessness from us anymore.
Next, in one rapid and fluid motion, the enormous craft spun toward the ground. It landed on what appeared to be a park near the downtown area, partially burrowing itself into the soil with most of the structure still protruding well above ground level. I was
finally able to more plainly see the structure that was currently haunting everyone’s thoughts when the camera advanced closer to the recently birthed ship. The freshly embedded stake was essentially in the shape of a huge drill bit. Seconds after it had landed, four supporting legs jutted out from the interior of the drill and managed to settle themselves on the topsoil. The alien Tower was coated in a deep shade of black, closely resembling its keeper. Comparing it to the green and orange flora below only made it appear more terrible. Contrasting the desolate blackness, the curves at the edges of the screw were outlined in a shade of silver, which reflected the surrounding urbanized lights. Its leg supports were a more conventional metallic design and color, making them look as though they belonged in a steel mill instead of extending out from an alien craft. The nearby trees and buildings stood no chance to match the height of their uninvited guest, looking as though they were recoiling at their new neighbor’s greatness. Only the more distant skyscrapers appeared to make any attempt to defend their territory.
Though I was seeing it all happen in front of me, I still could not fully comprehend exactly what was happening. It was as if I was watching a part of someone else’s immoral thoughts I had no business looking into. Before I could begin analyzing those thoughts, I felt an almost indiscernible tremor travel under the house. Despite the quake being no more than a minor tremble, the state I was in made the perception so vivid that an explosion may as well have erupted outside the front door.
“Did you feel that?” my mother asked, more baffled than startled. “What was that?”
Liz and I faced each another. Her eyes were as large as they could be, an appearance I’m sure my own expression closely mirrored, for I saw that our minds shared a common thought.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, leaping off the couch, directed to one purpose.
“Now? Where are you going?” asked my mother in my flight, her bewilderment focused on me.
“The roof.”
“The roof? What for?”
“To check,” I responded right before shutting the door connecting to the garage.
I opened the garage gate, introducing the aroma of the fresh outdoor air I had not enjoyed the company of for some time, and retrieved a ladder stationed against the wall. I could already see our star’s presence fast approaching. Thin streaks of light rose above the horizon and gingerly illuminated the bottom third of the sky. I leaned the ladder alongside the exterior wall and briskly climbed the stairs, skipping a step in each hike. When I reached the end of my ascent, I saw, about three miles to the north, what I anticipated to see. The shudder going over my fleshly frame almost made me regret completing the journey, knowing the stiff morning wind had no part in inducing the convulsion. Flanking the downtown skyscrapers to the west, still chiefly illuminated by lights not yet ready to take leave of their profession, I saw the outline of an alien Tower intruding on the serene assembly.