Invaded
by Beau Cameron
When the aliens came, two things happened.
First, all of the world’s leading scientists freaked out. The Pentagon’s emergency meeting was packed full of panicking physicists, astronomers, and biologists tossing papers around and screaming at each other. The obscene amount of flashing red lights was enough to give anyone a migraine. They were terrified, and it showed.
Second, just about everyone posted about it on social media.
“President Rodriguez, hashtag ‘invasion’ is trending on Twitter.” A thin woman who was constantly pushing her glasses up reported. She was one of many staticians present in the Oval Office.
Maes Rodriguez sighed, rubbing her temples. “What do you expect, a cover-up? There’s a massive alien warship floating above the White House.”
Vice President Jacobs leaned over, covering the phone’s receiver. “So is that a no on the media blackout?”
“Then people will just panic-- Wait.” Her nose scrunched in confusion. “Isn’t that violating the second amendment?”
He shrugged.
“You know what? No. Just...no.” Politicians. “Have we managed to make contact with the alien ship yet?”
One of the NASA nerds looked up from their screen. “We’re working on a translator now, Madame President. We’ll connect you in a moment.”
The screen filled with static as the transmission patched through. Straightening the lapels of her suit jacket, Maes faced the camera with a forced calm. Jacobs stood behind her, nervous, but steady in his support.
She took a deep breath before addressing the room. “No matter who these people are, or what they’re doing threatening our great nation, we will not let them harm our people. We will defend our country, so help me God.”
A chorus of “Yes ma’am”s and whistles met her statement. Maes straightened: It was showtime. A communications officer gave her the signal, and the video patched through. The room was still, a hushed dread at what was to come. The static faded, projecting the inside of the alien ship.
The alien was thin and tall, the top of its head cut off by the screen. Its body was a pale, almost sickly color with a malleable quality. Two antennae protruded from the top of its head, bending down to look into the camera.
It also wore a bright pink hawaiian shirt.
A stream of garbled vowels and squelches boomed across the room, crackling as the translator worked. It said, after a moment’s pause, “Is this the…” The alien conferred with an ancient looking map, “Los Angles be-och?”
The President suppressed a groan. Tourists.
First, all of the world’s leading scientists freaked out. The Pentagon’s emergency meeting was packed full of panicking physicists, astronomers, and biologists tossing papers around and screaming at each other. The obscene amount of flashing red lights was enough to give anyone a migraine. They were terrified, and it showed.
Second, just about everyone posted about it on social media.
“President Rodriguez, hashtag ‘invasion’ is trending on Twitter.” A thin woman who was constantly pushing her glasses up reported. She was one of many staticians present in the Oval Office.
Maes Rodriguez sighed, rubbing her temples. “What do you expect, a cover-up? There’s a massive alien warship floating above the White House.”
Vice President Jacobs leaned over, covering the phone’s receiver. “So is that a no on the media blackout?”
“Then people will just panic-- Wait.” Her nose scrunched in confusion. “Isn’t that violating the second amendment?”
He shrugged.
“You know what? No. Just...no.” Politicians. “Have we managed to make contact with the alien ship yet?”
One of the NASA nerds looked up from their screen. “We’re working on a translator now, Madame President. We’ll connect you in a moment.”
The screen filled with static as the transmission patched through. Straightening the lapels of her suit jacket, Maes faced the camera with a forced calm. Jacobs stood behind her, nervous, but steady in his support.
She took a deep breath before addressing the room. “No matter who these people are, or what they’re doing threatening our great nation, we will not let them harm our people. We will defend our country, so help me God.”
A chorus of “Yes ma’am”s and whistles met her statement. Maes straightened: It was showtime. A communications officer gave her the signal, and the video patched through. The room was still, a hushed dread at what was to come. The static faded, projecting the inside of the alien ship.
The alien was thin and tall, the top of its head cut off by the screen. Its body was a pale, almost sickly color with a malleable quality. Two antennae protruded from the top of its head, bending down to look into the camera.
It also wore a bright pink hawaiian shirt.
A stream of garbled vowels and squelches boomed across the room, crackling as the translator worked. It said, after a moment’s pause, “Is this the…” The alien conferred with an ancient looking map, “Los Angles be-och?”
The President suppressed a groan. Tourists.