Operation Earth

by Maria Hammarblad

  She clutched her new ID card, afraid to even put it in her purse.

  If I lose this thing, I’m screwed.

  Old-fashioned money had been quickly phased out, and the I.D. card granted access to food and transportation.

  She’d had to stand in line to get the card, and large signs informed anyone interested it was a temporary solution. Once everyone got used to the new situation, they would get implants instead.

  Yay. Who hasn’t dreamed of having a microchip placed in their body? I wish I could run away, but there is nowhere to go.

  Maybe the planet hadn’t been all that great before the newcomers arrived, but it sure wasn’t any better now. To be fair, the aliens had some basic infrastructure up and running with impressive speed after the global EMP. She had expected the crashed plane to burn for days and take most of the city with it, but the aliens had the disaster under control.

  Had they known how many people would die?

  Could they have prevented it?

  With a technology so advanced it often seemed like magic, maybe they could have held the planes up, but there were many planes.

  Maybe they let them fall. All the disasters made people numb and pliable.

  The city was cleaned up, stores had only been closed for a couple of days, and plundering had been minimal. Ryan had been worried of course, and when he came over to suggest they go forage for food she finally folded and invited them in.

  Might not have been one of my best ideas. He looked like he took inventory of my stuff. I guess I’m an easy target.

  At least for now everyone had something to eat and a roof over their heads, and with the newly established alien health centers, it seemed as if no one would ever have to suffer a disease again. There were also armed soldiers in the streets, watching over every aspect of what human life had become.

  At times, she could swear there were more newcomers than people from Earth around. She would bet a hundred now useless dollars that no child in the city, or maybe even the planet, was allowed to play outside anymore.

  A group of aliens stood not far away, and she dared a glance. It was hard of think of them as aliens when they looked so human. Their ears might be a little smaller, their eyes a little bigger and differently colored, and they all seemed taller than the average earthling. Overall, in normal clothes any single one of them could be mistaken for the neighbor next door.

  She forced her eyes away from the strangers and looked at the shelf.

  Dammit, I don’t know what any of this crap is.

  Neither sweets, chips, nor junk food was allowed, and anything unhealthy disappeared from stores with astonishing speed, giving no chance to stockpile. She had a craving for chocolate, but that pleasure was a thing of the past.

  The end result might be good, but something in her soul cringed at being bossed around.

  Toblerone might not be good for me, but I still want it. It’s called free will, Douchebags. I should be able to eat several pounds of it, get fat, and die of a heart attack, or choose to have an apple instead.

  Her gaze fell on a drab box with foreign letters. If the box gave any hint to the contents, it would taste exactly like brown cardboard.

  Everything on the shelf seemed much too wholesome. A package of cookies would have been most excellent. Could she make cookies? She remembered her mom doing it when she was a little girl, from butter, and sugar, and eggs, and stuff. During her adult life, cookies had come neatly packaged in the fridge; pretty little lumps of dough waiting to be put on a cookie sheet and baked.

  Oh, how she wanted a peanut butter chocolate chip cookie. It should be possible to make one from stuff lying around the house, but how?

  Three soldiers came down the aisle, and she forced her feet to move away from the potential threat.

  I don’t want any of these things anyway. Swedish wholegrain rye bread. Do people overseas really eat this?

  What might the intruders’ home be like? Probably boring, but their diet worked for them. The men behind her were built like barn doors.

  Why would anyone go through the trouble of travelling all the way to Earth anyway? It didn’t seem probable they just wanted the planet. They wouldn’t have had any reason to force everyone to be healthy if that was the case. Maybe they sent all this crap from their home world just to get rid of it, and people there lived on doughnuts and cotton candy and hot dogs.

  Natural resources? Same thing. Why not just kill them all and take it?

  The people? Maybe, but she couldn’t figure out for what. She shrugged it off. There must be some other plan in play, but it was too obscure for anyone to understand.

  It was hard not to peek at the men behind her, but curiosity might be dangerous. Besides, being resentful seemed more prudent. She should probably burn with rage and have dreams of defending her world.

  Ryan and Melissa sure did. He knocked on her door a couple of days earlier to ask if she had any weapons. Rachael had said, “No.” The old sword she inherited from a relative was sharp, but didn’t count.

  “You know, our technology might be down and out, but from what I hear, they die just fine if you shoot them.” Ryan seemed proud of his explanation.

  I don’t want to shoot anyone. Moreover, these guys aren’t just huge. They’re armed to the teeth. They probably wear body armor. The very idea of attacking one is... preposterous.

  Minutes later, she gave up and tucked the ID card into her purse. Odds were it would stay in there, unless it grew out tiny legs and arms and set out to climb over all the other junk she carried around, of course.

  Her arms were filled with goods, and she couldn’t balance any more. When a bag of pears almost fell out of her hands, she muttered, “Why don’t I ever learn to take a cart?”

  She usually went to the store intending to grab bare essentials like milk and eggs, so little she wouldn’t even need a basket, and ended up balancing twenty things in her arms.

  Once she had a safe grip on all the groceries again, she remembered she was out of tea and veered across the aisle without looking. She bumped into someone’s back, and dropped everything all over the floor.

  “Dammit!” After the initial curse, apologies came automatically. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know where I have my head today.”

  A friendly male voice said, “It’s my fault. Let me help you with that.”

  She lifted her head and gazed into a pair of warm golden eyes.

  Wow.

  His stare held her captive, and she wanted to step closer. It took an effort to take her eyes away from his, and watching a handsome face crowned by a mop of brown hair barely eased the magnetic tug.

  The newcomer wore a black uniform with some form of insignia on the collar, and he held a large, rifle-like weapon over his chest. Sidearms poked out of holsters on both hips. He could probably shoot half the city to pieces.

  Rachael returned his smile. It wasn’t just the uniform that made his upper arms look like tree trunks. Probably a lot of steroids in there...

  I’m so prejudiced. If they don’t allow chocolate they won’t allow other drugs, and their DNA must be completely different. Looking human doesn’t mean they are.

  Having grown up in a city, she was wary of anyone unknown, especially the big ones that might explode unprovoked at any moment.

  The only time a woman would stand close to a buff unknown man was if someone even bigger and scarier was around. In that case, she hoped Man Number One could provide protection. Everyone knew this. For decades it was how women survived without being raped.

  The stranger scooped up her things from the floor and pressed them into her hands. His eyes glittered.

  “Do you want me to get you a cart?”

  Oooh, not just good looking, but polite too. Hope I’m not blushing.

  “No, I’m good. I thought I could balance some tea too, but that might be overdoing it.”

  He looked like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth again.

  Was tea about to
disappear too? Maybe she should hurry and grab some before it vanished from the shelves along with everything else she liked.

  She stole another glance of the marvelous golden eyes, and he smiled. Then, he gave a little nod.

  “Alright then. You have a good day.”

  For being one of the aliens, invaders even, he wasn’t all that bad.

  Don’t go. She couldn’t say that, but managed to get the words, “You too” over her lips just as he walked away. He looked back over his shoulder and winked, and her heart pounded in her chest.

  Repeating the mantra that she was a silly goose didn’t help at all. Not one little bit.

  *****

  The bus bringing her home smelled like fresh plastic.

  It didn’t have a driver and hovered over the ground without a sound, but she was too distracted by meeting an alien to wonder much about their technology.

  The New Order with all its miracles was becoming the new normal. Strange how quickly everyone adapted. There had been cars with wheels and noisy engines. Now there were hovering buses. Not a big deal, really...

  When at last she reached her yard, she hurried toward the house, relieved the neighbors weren’t out. She’d had enough Ryan and Melissa to last a decade or more.

  She barely had time to put her bags down before someone knocked on the door.

  Now what?

  “Just a minute!”

  I know it can’t be him, but if anyone were to knock on my door and possibly lead me to a grim fate, I wish he would be the one.

  The door opened to show Melissa.

  “Hey, I saw you come home. It’s a pain with no cars working, right. Can you come over to our house for a minute? Ryan would...”

  She trailed off, and Rachael swallowed her instinctive objection of needing to go to work. They didn’t do much these days, and it surprised her she was still getting paid. Another moot point. Money would soon be obsolete.

  “Sure. Hey, do you know how to make cookies?”

  Melissa grimaced.

  “Only if they’re Betty Crocker.”

  This was Rachael’s first visit to the neighbor’s house, and she struggled to conceal her curiosity. The layout was almost the same as hers with a small kitchen to the side of the living room, but any similarities ended there. Her house was bright, filled with light colors and open spaces. Melissa and Ryan had dark and heavy furniture, flowered curtains, paisley tablecloths, and a checkered carpet.

  I feel like a little girl visiting a well-meaning but intimidating grandma.

  Ryan leaned back on a kitchen chair. He weighted it on the back legs, so far she thought he would topple over, and watched her under his lashes. Did he think it made him seem mysterious? In her eyes, he looked like a stubborn eight-year-old.

  “I’m going to be honest with you. We’re joining the resistance, and we think you should come with us. Your family is far away, and there’s no one else to take care of you, right?”

  The words, “I’m twenty-eight years old” balanced on her lips, but she managed to withdraw them. Asserting her independence would only serve to convince him.

  “I was absolutely terrified at first, but once we made it to the first meeting, everyone was so nice. Well-organized too,” Melissa filled in.

  Ryan took over.

  “We should all stand together. Help each other out. Show these mothers you don’t fuck with America.”

  “Ryan, dearest, watch your language. And you mean Earth.”

  The way they bounced the words between them made Rachael feel like a spectator at a tennis match.

  Melissa broke the illusion by bending over the table and putting a hand on hers.

  “What my husband means to say, Dear, is that people on this planet need to unite. We’re taking it back.”

  Rachael wanted to pull her hand away, but forced herself to sit absolutely still. They were probably right, and she should be both willing and able to fight. She just didn’t want to. What if all the newcomers were like the guy in the store. She couldn’t shoot him.

  “I have to think about this...”

  Melissa squeezed her hand.

  “Just don’t think too long, dear. We’re taking the bus at five.”

  She didn’t intend to go with them, but did anyway. There were no valid excuses, no way to get out of it without coming across as a traitor. Ryan made them change buses a couple of times, and she couldn’t figure out the logic behind their zigzag route through the city. It was ridiculous to her.

  Melissa plodded on ahead, looking perky in unusually walking-friendly sneakers, but Rachael dragged her feet.

  I already don’t want to go, and we’re not even there yet. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  “So, where is this place anyway?”

  Ryan shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

  “We have to walk for a bit.”

  “Why?”

  We’re going in the same direction as the bus. Couldn’t we just have stayed on the bus instead of following it?

  Melissa’s glance implied she must be incredibly stupid. Maybe she was.

  “Honey, if everyone took the bus to the same place, it would be really easy for them to figure out where we are and what we’re doing.”

  Yes, because everyone cares so much.

  She forced herself not to make the comment. Their attempt to involve her and care for her was sweet, and it wasn’t their fault she wasn’t interested. It certainly wasn’t their fault she couldn’t stop daydreaming about a tall man with a bright smile and golden eyes...

  Ryan rumbled, “We need to meet in secret. This isn’t a time to be squeamish. Just walk.”

  So she walked, even though her feet already hurt in shoes much too pretty and uncomfortable for the occasion.

  I wish someone told me all this earlier, like before we left. Was I supposed to just figure it out?

  They finally reached a low, gray building and went down a narrow staircase. Old electric organs stood pushed against the walls, leaving a constricted corridor to walk through. A man sat on an old orange plastic chair.

  “C minor,” Ryan said.

  He sounded proud, and the man nodded.

  Melissa whispered, “They change meeting spots and passwords every week. Right now we’re under a music store. They used to have classes down here.”

  Something about the situation was too surreal, and Rachael wanted to laugh.

  Sure, the planet has been taken by alien invaders, and we’re going to reclaim it through early 1980’s Kawai organs. We can’t even play the intruders to death or drive them crazy with elevator music, because nothing works. I think they’re pretty safe.

  Her mood improved when they reached the actual meeting. A poorly-lit room held a circle of hard wooden chairs, and the walls were lined with even more organs. None of these things held any interest to her, but a table over to the side was piled high with thermoses and pastries.

  “They have coffee… and chocolate.”

  “I told you you’d like it.” Melissa giggled. She sounded nervous.

  A man over to the side waved.

  “Melissa, Ryan! Oh, you must be Rachael. It’s good to see you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

  From the look on his face he’d be more interested to see her without clothes than at a meeting, but it was okay. At the moment, anything that didn’t involve attacking people and trying to kill them was okay.

  The man put a hand on her back and pushed her towards the brimming table.

  “We make sure no friends of the rebellion go hungry. Help yourself, Sweetheart.”

  Don’t call me “Sweetheart.”

  The thought in no way prevented her from gulping down a large mug of coffee and refilling it.

  “You have Toblerone.”

  “You should have a big piece.”

  I like this guy better every minute. I mean, if he were to touch me I’d scream, no doubt about it, but he has a good taste in sweets.

  The thought made her
straighten up. All of a sudden, the man reminded her of a pedophile trying to lure in children with candy and ice cream.

  Once the thought took hold it was hard to shake, and she was grateful when the room filled up with people, so she didn’t have to keep the pleasant facade. She made sure to take a seat close to Melissa, far away from the candy man.

  Ryan seemed enthusiastic. “We’re finally doing something.”

  Rachael kept her attention on the meeting for almost two minutes before she zoned out.

  Blah, blah, blah. Lots of talk and anger, no brains, and no tools. What are you going to do? Go out there and bludgeon them to death with tape and old furniture?

  Maybe eating their sweets and having their coffee was wrong when she thought such bad things about them, but she had to blend in, right?

  Oh look, Candy Man is moving. I wonder what he has to say? Come to the dark side, because we have cookies?

  “Today, I’m happy to announce a new member. Beautiful Rachael over there has decided to do the right thing and join us. Rachael, stand up and tell us all about yourself.”

  She almost choked on her coffee.

  *****

  The next morning, Rachael barely had time to get out of bed before Melissa knocked on the door.

  “Come over, we want to talk about yesterday. What did you think?”

  “Uhm... I dunno... Can I put on some clothes first?”

  “Yes, yes, but hurry.”

  Standing in their kitchen once more, she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

  “You know, I don’t think...”

  “It was great, right? Sit down, have some tea.”

  I wish I could share your enthusiasm, but great isn’t the word I would have used.

  “I’ve gotta go to work.”

  “Don’t be silly, you were just there yesterday.”

  “Yes, and most people go every day.”

  The sarcasm was lost on them. Melissa pulled out a cup with big pink roses, and put crackers on a plate.

  Do you guys know it’s seven thirty in the morning?

  “Here you are, Honey.”

  Ryan gestured for his wife to be quiet, and she obeyed a little too quickly.

  “You’ve seen so much now, Rachael. It’s too late to turn back.”