by Y Correa
“Ca-mi-elle...” came an unrecognizable robotic voice. “A-wake-n chil-d. You must come with us.”
Camielle’s eyes flickered open, and, upon adjusting to her surroundings, flew open in surprised. She was slightly startled but mostly flabbergasted. She inherently tucked her feet into herself.
“Chil-d, can you hear us?” asked the seemingly automated voice of the creature that sat in front of her. She nodded, words had been lost.
“Good. Good,” nodded the entity. Its oversized, wobbly head seemed to want to roll off of its ridiculously slender neck as it did. “Now come. Fo-llow us.”
Camielle's view widened, and when it did, she saw four others just like this one. They were the spitting image of the little green and grey aliens one would see in those tacky Sci-Fi movies. Five of them.
Finally finding her words, Camielle asked, “Why?”
“Be-cause, you are one of us. You must come now.” Every word had the emphasis and sound of an android.
It was fascinating how the reply alone made all of the sense in the world to the little girl. Period. It was all of the justification that she needed to believe them and follow their lead. Withal, she never really quite fit in. How could it not make sense? Why would she question it?
The alien stretched out his hand, and she reached for his. He grabbed it and she arose, allowing him to lead the way. Camielle lifted her eyes to the sky to take a quick glance—maybe the lights had gone away. To her surprise, they were still there, however, no longer dancing. They were as still as calm waters. All lined up in a horizontal line with the glowing white orb directly in the center.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Home.”
“Where is home?”
“Far from here.”
“So, if I am not from this planet—not a human; then how did I get here and what am I?”
“You were im-plan-ted here eight years a-go in the womb of your hu-man mo-ther. We put you here. It was an ex-per-i-ment. We are from the pla-net called 2-2-4-Z-F-1.”
“What are we?” Camielle insisted.
“We are the first.”
“The first? What does that mean?”
“We came be-fore hu-mans. We are the first.”
“Then where did humans come from?” By this point, the little alien lifted his hand, stretched out his incredibly long finger and pointed to the white luminescent orb that commanded the lineup. The orb, as if telepathically understanding the aliens command, hovered from its location, fluttering through the air, and finally making its appearance in front of the Greys. It was their starship.
Shortly after landing atop of the building, the orb's glow fizzled away, and from it came a sterling silver grandeur. It was the most beautiful space shuttle anyone had ever seen. The door opened. When the door opened, the alien answered, “They come from us. We made them cen-tur-ies ago. Ev-o-lu-tion took care of the rest.”
“Oh, I see.”
A little over a decade passed. Camielle had made her new home with the Greys. They understood her—comprehended her otherworldly mind. It was a great thing. The things they'd taught her were so mammoth that words were not enough to explain their depth. Things were never what they seemed. Life wasn't what earth had made it out to be. There was so much more. Camielle finally felt accepted and at home with the Greys. They were her new family. More than that, she was finally happy.
“Camielle, honey.” A gentle hand shook her shoulder. “Wake up.”
Camielle's eyes weighed heavy, and she could barely open them.
“Come on sweetie. Wake up.”
With lots of effort, Camielle finally opened her eyes. What an odd thing. What a peculiar sensation. Just a few seconds ago she was all grown up and living with the Greys. Now, she was back on the rooftop of her building, still in the tattered beach chair.
“Come on, baby. It's dinner time.”
“Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
Camielle scratched her throat. “Umm. Nothing.”
“Must've been quite the dream you head. You were talking in your sleep.”
“I was?”
“Yup. What were you dreaming about?”
“Aliens.”
“Wow! Sounds exciting.”
“It was.”
Leading Camielle back to their apartment, her mother prompted Camielle to tell her all about the dream she'd had.
“Ca-mie-lle? Wake up. Wake up.” Came the mechanical voice of her adoptive father, the Grey that took her home with him.
“What?” was Camielle's lethargic reply. She'd not fully awoken just yet. Then with a jump, she was up. “Oh, wow, Poppa Grey, I was dreaming that I was a little girl again. That I was back with my mother. What a crazy dream. It felt so real.”
“Mem-o-ries can be a pow-er-ful thing,” replied Poppa Grey. “It is not of an ab-nor-mal na-ture. It is the hu-man in you.”
Camielle nodded her reply. That made complete sense. What she wouldn't give to be one hundred percent grey. However, in all truth, it was the human in her that made her unique. For that she was grateful.
Taking Poppa Grey's hand, Camielle and he walked off to their day's functions.
Inside of the glass canister that contained the month-old fetus of the unborn child, monitors and wires of all kinds dangled from it—the fetus pulsed with life. It was real. It was alive.
The human woman strapped to the brilliant white gurney had no idea what was going on around her. The anesthetic had her completely unconscious. Never would she know what had happened this very day. As far as she would know, this child would be the product of her marriage.
Connected to one of the monitors on the fetus, was a screen. The screen played with vivid life.
“So, this will be the life of this child?” asked the mechanized voice of Poppa Grey.
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