“Why won’t they go home?” Pure whiteness surrounded us; Oliver stood on nothing.
“They don’t want to; Akra said we can’t make them.” I reached out to hold him, as though we were children together again and hiding from the gangs patrolling District 9. “It’s not so bad, really—most of us will go! And I will! Two years, nine months, and we’ll see each other again! I love you, Oliver!”“Daddy, why won’t they go home?” My arms dissolved as they touched him; insubstantial mist against solid form. He blinked, his vision passing over and through me. “Sherry?”
Father’s tall shadow fell over us. “Sherry died years ago. You’re imagining things.” He sighed. “We’ll take who we can, and go.”
“Daddy!” I screamed so loud my lungs hurt. “I’m here! We’re waiting for you! The others, they’ve been tricked, but I’ll make them see! We’ll go with you! Daddy!”
Oliver released Father’s hand and stepped towards me. “No, I hear something…” His clicks were quiet, tentative. “Big Sis…aah!” Kurt’s grinning face appeared behind him. Before I could speak Oliver’s blood sprayed onto the featureless white beneath him as four huge drill bits suddenly ripped through his tiny knee and elbow joints, tearing him apart. He fell to the ground in five pieces, like a breathing, bleeding doll dismembered by a careless child. His eyes never left mine as his body fell, slow as a dream or the last moments of life. His eyes showed no anger, or even pain—they were impossibly wide, seeming to silently scream “Why?” Why did the human kill him, why would the others stay behind and die here? Why…
Father’s own eyes gazed off into the distance, as though Oliver had become as ghostlike as I. Yet my hands were solid as I held three fingers in a single hard point and drove it into Kurt’s throat. I ripped into him like a wild beast, chunks of flesh and remnants of his face coming apart in my bloody hands.
“No.” I heard Father’s deep Poleekwan rumble. “Sherry was just an innocent child…and she didn’t survive.”
I stopped. Kurt’s body had become part of the white nothing around us, but I was still coated with his sticky human blood. “I’m alive, really…please, just look at me!” I reached for his hand and this time, finally, gripped it solid and tight.
Father whirled about and yanked his hand from mine, as though I’d burned him. For an instant I saw myself through his eyes—small, yet marked with dozens of repulsive scars, and covered in blood like some horror-movie monster. He staggered back from even the sight of me.
“Father, listen, please! That human killed Oliver, he tortured and murdered eight of our people! Even children. I had to do it!”
He held up his hands as though warding me off. “You can’t be Sherry.” He said the words slowly, as though reassuring himself. “They took her away, and one of the other prisoners killed her. There was nothing I could do…”
“No! Daddy, they lied to you! Those bastards kept me in a lab, like the one you broke into with Wikus. Awful things happened there; things that I could never tell anyone, but I promise I never cried out! I survived! I was strong, like you are!”
“Sherry…” Father looked down at me, his yellow-gold eyes seeming to brim with bottomless grief. “You are Sherry. But look at you…you’re not my child.”
“What? No…”He turned away, his back to me. “This Earth, this world has ruined you. Just like the others. My Sherry is gone.”
“Daddy!” I screamed the word over and over again as he disappeared, and the world around me became a featureless nothing. I was shouting, drenched in gore, contaminated and alone. Forever.
“Aw, shit!” A human cry awoke me.
The white dreamscape vanished as I bolted from my cot, down the tunnels and towards that familiar voice. “Ryan!” I knelt beside him, my hands trembling. “Are you okay?”
He lay on his back in the dirt, right leg half-buried by rocks. “You get this scared over a sprain?” Ryan adjusted his hat and grinned. “And a…digging malfunction. I’ve been in worse situations, don't worry.” He pointed to an alcove filled up by the cave-in. “I just want to get into that storage room.”I brushed the dry soil and sharp rocks aside to reveal his bruised knee. “Worse, yeah, but...this looks painful.” I shook my head, clearing away the last wisps of sleep. How could I waste time with pointless nightmares, when my friend was hurt?
He tried to shift his leg and winced. “Well, it's not exactly ideal. But, guess where most of the medical supplies are?” He cocked his head towards the filled-in alcove, where a small avalanche of soil was still tumbling down. “That's what I call poetic irony.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, great. Here, I can get to them…” I picked up the shovel he’d dropped.
“Hey! Don't leave me…I can't walk.”
“Sorry!” I gripped his shoulders and pulled; trying to drag him to the nearest cot. He didn’t budge, of course, and my mouth-tentacles twitched in embarrassment. “Umm...I think I should get Eric.”
“Just get him to bring me over there. I still have my hands, so I can work on digging.” He said the words to my back as I ran to wake Eric. It wasn’t until we knelt beside Ryan that I realized I’d actually ran—my long-atrophied muscles had only whispered in protest. I grinned, trying only to focus on Ryan though I had a childlike urge to run and leap around him; to test the limits of my healing body. “You're worse than I am!”
The strong Poleepkwa slung an arm around him and lifted him to his feet. “I know,” Ryan sighed. “I'm gonna go dig in the spot where I got hurt. Not humanity's stubbornness at its best.”
Eric winked at his friend—another human mannerism that I’d never seen from one of us. "Maybe another one will hit you on the head, and you'll get some proper rest."
“I don't think you can blame that stubbornness on being human, Ryan.” I threw a blanket over him as Eric laid him down on the cot next to mine.
“What is this nonsense?” He adjusted the brim of his hat and furrowed his brow, narrowing his eyes theatrically. “Don't make me order you to let me dig. I have friends in...higher than us, places!”
Eric handed me a medical kit and silently examined Ryan’s injured knee. “Order me? Hmm…” I mimicked his expression. “I don't recall signing up for the ARFA chain of command. Just for a human and a Poleepkwa, in a tunnel, who seemed to love me for some strange reason.” I swabbed the dirt from a few of the scrapes on his soft skin.
He sighed. “You're not going to let me dig, are you?”
Eric rested a large hand on Ryan’s prone shoulder. “Well, it's not broken, just sprained I think.” He turned to me. “It'll swell up this big, but get better. Fragile humans.” He poked him playfully with a lower sub-arm.
“Yes yes, I know. I’m a pathetic meatbag, woe is me.” He tried to climb to his feet. “Life doesn’t stop for a sprain, why should I?”
I shook my head and gently pushed him back down. “Rest for a little while. Then you can go back to proving how tough you are. Besides, we’re almost done. We should break the surface soon.”
“If you weren't so damned wonderful, I'd start making vain threats. But I don't think I could bear the look on your face if I did.”
I grinned and gave him a brief hug, resting my tiny head on his soft, warm human chest. His voice seemed to drown out the lingering shreds of my nightmare. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you company.”
He patted my head gently. “Oh, Dayna came back from Joburg late last night. The transmitters, the computers you wanted—they’re all set up in Akra’s quarters.”
I threw my small arms around him. “Hey, she’s the one who got everything, go hug her! She’s with Akra now—“
“Okay, I’ll hug her later. But I have to keep you company, right?” I went back to cleaning the dirt from the last of his cuts and glanced at the kit’s instruction booklet—it recommended “rest, ice, compression, and elevation.” With an odd-looking blue “instant ice pack” and an armload of dirty blankets, I followed the directions as best I could.
When his knee was elevated and wrapped, Ryan sighed. “As long as I’m stuck here, I should help you get ready for the interview.”
“Umm…okay. What do I need to do?”
He gave me a wry smile. “I looked over your blog—you really didn’t know about ARFA, or the new CEO. I mean, I can understand why, but the journalist might ask you about these things. Why don’t you get your computer, and let this,” he poked my side playfully. “Weak human fill you in?”
“You’re a wounded knight, remember?” I called the words over my shoulder as I ran to where the small computer was stashed beneath my cot. I raced back—and stopped, wincing, as my muscles spasmed and clenched in protest. Okay, so my legs weren’t quite healed yet. I’d keep working, keep exercising to strengthen them.
Ryan scooted over to let me sit beside him, and powered up my computer with the hand crank. “Here,” He typed in a web address and clicked on a video link that bore the headline, MNU Makes History with First Female CEO. “This is Grace Allen, the new face of MNU.”
The image on the screen seemed to be smiling down at the reporter, speaking to the camera almost condescendingly. “Multi-National United is a progressive, forward-thinking company. We believe in corporate responsibility and accountability. I would like to take this opportunity to reassure our stakeholders, the media, and the community at large that the few irresponsible individuals involved with unlicensed genetic research have been dealt with appropriately. Also, our former CEO has stepped down, and I have been appointed to lead this company in a bold new direction.”“Unlicensed?” I muffled a bitter laugh. “You mean illegal! You can’t get a license for…as Christian would say, that shit.”
She continued. “We will execute our business plans to create sustainable growth and generate substantial return for shareholders. However, this has not prevented us from treating the Non-Humans under our care in District 10 Sanctuary Park with the utmost dignity and respect. They are given adequate work, schooling, and housing. The problems which plagued District 9—such as involvement with outside gangs and massive unemployment—have been eliminated.”
I narrowed my eyes at the oblivious woman on the screen. No point in saying that the last claim was brutally true; and as for the others…I’d like to see her trade places with any of us. Just for a day. I didn’t hear the reporter’s muffled question, but her aristocratic, slightly-accented Afrikaner voice seemed to silence the crowd before her. She frowned, but her tone did not waver.
“That documentary only told one side of the story, and our world has changed since then. In any case, whatever claims Tanukashi’s representatives have made simply aren’t supported by the facts. We have complied fully with UIO protocol, but cannot allow inspections at this point in time. It would be too great of a security risk.”
I paused the video feed. “Okay, I remember the UIO from the documentary. United International Organization, right? Tanukashi sounds a little familiar…”He nodded. “They’ve tried to outbid MNU a couple of times. Your father mentioned them on his blog, actually.” Ryan’s shoulders slumped. He spoke evenly, as though in a mentally prepared speech. “So that’s where we’re at. Some of us ‘Alien Rights and Freedom’ members thought that once the documentary came out, MNU would be toast. That people would see what they were really up to, and they’d be hauled in front of the UIO immediately. We hoped Tanukashi would be able to take over. But Dirk Michels took most of the blame, they paid off the Van de Merwe family, brought in a new face, and bam.” He grimaced as he snapped his fingers. “Their stock went right back up. I mean, practically no one back home likes MNU, but they don’t seem to hate them enough to boycott their products or to really join in on the protests. I’ve heard it’s kind of like what happened with Exxon a couple decades ago. That spill cost them billions, but they just keep reporting record profits. And the same damned ship still makes runs across the Atlantic. They just renamed it.” He finished in practically a single breath. I wondered if these were his words, or the monologue of another resistance worker. He seemed to believe what he said but not completely understand it.
“What’s Exxon? Protests?”
He shook his head. “It’s an oil company, but never mind. And yes ma’am, protests.” He tipped his hat slightly and grinned at my blank expression. “That’s the bulk of what ARFA does, actually. You know, rallying outside of MNU headquarters, holding signs—‘Hey hey! Yo ho! MNU has got to go! What do we want? Non-Human rights! When do we want it? Now!’”
My antennae twitched in confusion. “You mean, humans say that?”
“Here, see it for yourself." He opened up another window on the screen. "This is an old protest, from about a year ago—but they’re happening everywhere. There was a huge one in LA last week. Me, Dayna, the other human resistance workers…that’s how we first got started.”
He tipped my chin up gently, so that our eyes met. “I told you, I’m not special like you think I am. Not one in six billion. You can’t really see it from in here, but out there, your people have a lot of support.” He made a vague gesture down the tunnels, towards the outside world—to me, it was the great unknown beyond District 10. “And we’re always trying to get more. That’s why this interview will be so important…”
I nodded. I didn’t expect anything too impressive, but if the video of Kurt torturing the refugees actually did wind up on the news, it would be something. Something else to further our cause. The exposure of MNU’s illegal research program had hardly brought down the company, but if it hadn’t been exposed I would still be in that tiny box. I shuddered, pushing the thought away.
“Actually,” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.” He settled back into the cot and propped his head up with a folded blanket.
“In three years...” I reached out, almost unconsciously, to brush a bit of dirt from his face. “I always assumed you'd go back to the States. You know, get married and have a family. I never thought there would still be Poleepkwa here then. But if there are, what will you do? If District 10 is full of obedient Poleepkwa, and I'm gone along with most of us...what do you think you'll do?”
“I will be here until District 10 no longer exists.”
“Really? You're very brave, big brother.” I looked into his bright green eyes, almost silently begging for his understanding. “I wasn’t…I was stupid. I thought that I, and my people, could leave Earth and never look back. But if there are half a million of us still stuck here, in spite of Father, then that just won't be an option. Not for me, at least. I don’t really know what my people will do. I suppose decades from now, if he survives, Christian will have to be a kind of slave diplomat. Working for the equality of those who don’t even know what equality is. And you'll be working to free them, for as long as it takes?”
“Yes, as long as it takes. I see those who are lost, and need to be found.”
I took his hand in my own. “I want them all to be ‘found’ in the next three years. But if that doesn't happen—“ I stopped when he began to chuckle softly. “Wait…why are you laughing?”
He smoothed back my antennae playfully, as though ruffling a human child’s hair. “It's funny, because you seem to think of only the worst things.”“Do I? I'm sorry. I don't mean to.”
“Everything was going to be perfect when your father came back. Now, it's like your world is ending. Can you just take things as they are, as they come to you?”
I grabbed the wide-brimmed hat that he still wore—even underground, even laying down with a sprained knee. His “Indiana Jones hat,” he’d called it, apparently after some movie I’d never heard of.
“Hey! Don’t mess with the hat!” I jumped up, holding it out of his reach.
“Oh?” I clicked mischievously. “You had this, now you don’t… but can’t you just take things as they come to you?” I lowered it almost to his grasp, and then yanked it back again.“That’s not fair, but I get the point.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. I plopped back down next to him and let his dirt-covered human hands reclaim their prize. “It’s not nice to take advantage of the injured, you know.” He shook his head. "Anyway, there's another letter from Christian--Eric left it over there. Along with the last one you wrote to him...I guess he didn't want to carry it around, in case he was searched."
I skimmed over the message I'd written to him a few days ago. My own words seemed inadequate, compared to the thought of what he faced in that factory above ground.
Dear Christian,
I’d forgotten about the first time we communicated. I didn’t know it, but you were at the Texas base at the time. I was crouched beneath a pile of garbage in the late hours of the night here when I read your message: “I am very glad that you are alright. It pains me to see what MNU has done, and continues to do to our species. There may not be enough time between when Christopher, your father, returns, but we in the resistance will attempt to correct humanity’s mistakes. I have seen many good people, human and Poleepkwa alike, fight, and die, for our cause. You are not alone out there. We are with you, and will support you through everything we can. If you are ever in need of help, let us know.”I had no idea where you were, who you were, or even if you were real then. It’s beyond ironic that our roles have been reversed, with you in danger up there and me secure underground. And now it truly is the other way around—it pains me to see, behind your fancy words, that you’ve been hurt and face more abuse in the days ahead. I have no doubt that your courage will see you safely back to us, just as the knowledge of Father’s own strength enabled me to survive a year of MNU torture and somehow become a symbol of hope for my people.
As for our own struggle here, there is not much to tell. We’re slowly digging a new entrance. Kurt attempted to scare us with a lie about capturing you, but I have no doubt that his intelligence is no match for yours.
It’s useless to say it, yet I wish we could switch the mirror around and change places once more…the blows you’ve been dealt, I would take for you. Your work is beyond valuable to the resistance, and the fact that you’ve been able to continue it in spite of these trials amazes me again. I look forward to hearing about your further progress with the schools; since you have already far exceeded any “precedent” I may have held for you before.
Until Next Time,Sherry Johnson
Dear Sherry,
Working at the factory has not been a pleasant experience by any means, but if you keep your head down and finish the work on time the guards will leave you alone. They do not wish to be in the factory any more than we do. The conditions are as hazardous as reported, and we, the workers, must be exceedingly careful at every step of the fabrication process. One false move and you could well end up lubricating one of the machines, or supplying more tender for the furnace.
Over the course of these past few days, I have built up a reputation as an able bodied worker, and have been promoted to a form of supervisor. It does not allow me to work less, but only means that now I must supply assistance to those around me as well as complete my own work. In exchange, I am given a ration of cat food in addition to my meager pay. This had the unintended side effect of making me quite popular with the other workers in my section.
As I do not wish to tarnish my mind with such substances, I have been splitting it up with a select few among my work force. I guess they could fall under the label of friends, but as of right now, the only thing tying us together is our species, job, and their need of cat food. There is only one that I feel has any semblance of a friendship with me.
His name is Sue, and though he is younger than most of the other workers, he is of like mind to myself. When offered cat food he steadfastly refuses, and is one of the brighter workers among the group. I have met up with him and a few of the other workers in our off hours, and thoroughly enjoy his company. I do not know how much I should reveal to him of my own actions, but he may be sympathetic to our cause. If he proves trustworthy, I will not hesitate to enlist his assistance.
The school continues to grow, though the lessons have been shorter as of late. I am finding it difficult to balance my work schedule alongside my nocturnal activities. I may have to adjust the time of class or split the class into multiple sessions to best accommodate the students. Perhaps Sue may be able to act as a teacher's aid in the near future. Though that is more wishful thinking at the moment than a possibility.
I hope you are well, and wish that you may breach the surface soon enough.
Until next time,
Christian Heffner
My jaws were clenched tight as I searched for a pen and made a quick reply in our native script. Enough talking; enough with this being underground and safe while he stoically suffered along with the rest of my people. Kurt's words flashed through my mind, Can't get cat food in space, now can you sweetie? I pushed all thoughts of Kurt and nightmares from my mind. Father would be proud of me, someday, because I would save my people from this horrible existence. All of them...somehow.
Dear Christian,
You have seen our world from a new angle, but it is one which you should never have been made to view. Before, I wanted to make you understand my perspective--but never at this cost. For what it's worth, I promise that you'll recognize yourself in the future...just as a wounded, wiser Poleepkwa.
In any case, it seems that both our mirrors are shifting. I honestly don't know what to think about the humans right now...besides the kindness of Ryan and Dayna, I've been given a brief glimpse of the world you're more familiar with. I still have no wish to be owned by their kind, or become one of them! But I have learned that humans are complicated beings, and capable of great empathy.
Not all humans, of course. I was surprised to read about the cat food, though I shouldn't have been.Those MNU pigs seem so determined to intoxicate and poison us...I'm glad, at least, that you haven't tried that foul stuff.
You wrote once about "no longer sitting back and reading about my trials and tribulations." Now that the mirror has reversed, so to speak, rest assured that I won't be hearing about yours this way for much longer. Only a few more layers of earth remain, and though it will probably seem like a lifetime to you, we will break through to the surface in three days at the most. If have to dig through the rest of the way myself with my bare hands, I will. I promise.
See You Soon,
Sherry Johnson
