Human

|| one ||

Day One

Mornings. The time of day when the sun would rise in the sky and grace the planet with rays of light. When I was a kid, the Elders would tell all of us how important mornings were. How waking and seeing the sun was the highlight of one's day. It meant we were alive; we were breathing.

As a kid, back within the child ranks, speaking with the Elders was my highlight. Listening to them tell me stories of days they couldn't remember. Educating me on aspects of the Earth I never saw, never touched. With every detail they shared, I could create images in my head and replayed them in my dreams. A hope I latched on to, hugged in my sleep.

And it was those moments I'd wake and wished I could return to when I reached adulthood. Just to hurry down the halls I shared with the Elders I didn't belong to, a pretend family who tried to fill the roles of aunts and uncles because I had none, and listen to their stories. To their lies.

Bullshit slipped past through their lips like air, and I, a starry-eyed child, sucked it all in as though it were oxygen. I was wrapped around their fingers, suckling on their hope like a babe. But for what?

According to the Elders, humans had put up the biggest fight in history. We called every tank, released every missile. We fought until the moon fell below the horizon and mornings blessed us with the morning light. And yet, at the end of it all, the Astorians won. They descended from their ships and enslaved us all, one by one.

But the part where we fought and tried our best?

That was a lie.

All one big fucking lie.

I knew the truth because the evidence was all around me. The facts were the tiny, minor details in the stories I heard as a kid, hidden between the lines. I was just the only smart one to catch on and listen.

We hadn't fought back. We couldn't. The day aliens had broken through our atmosphere was the day every electronic item we owned died. Vehicles wouldn't start. Alarms never sounded. There were no planes, no tanks. We were quiet during the invasion. And if you had heard a sound, it was from the neighbor dying in the house next to yours.

The Elders never told us the other stories, the ones Astorians told the children after morning meals. About the truth of our enslavement, the reasons behind our treatment. Humans hadn't cooperated and wouldn't allow the aliens to come and restore our planet. And with Earth and its creatures on the brink of extinction, Astorians had taken matters into their own hands. It was a tough pill to swallow, yeah, but it was all necessary.

I saw it. I knew it. I heard them well.

But that never changed the fact when mornings arrived and I opened my eyes, listening to the sounds of my Colony's waking alarms, I wanted to go back to those days when I was a kid. To sit in front of those men and women and just listen to their bullshit. Gobble it up like cake. Because at least then I'd have a smile on my face. And a purpose.

I could believe then humans were a strong, superior species. That our resilience was boundless, and one day, we would bounce right back and march through the metal walls of our Colony prisons, victorious with guns blazing. We could reclaim what was rightfully ours.

Yet, that never happened. And every morning a voice pulled me away from my thoughts and dreams, reminding me of my place within society.

"0003, you're to report for morning meals. After, you're to take your place in line seven. Assembly of Million's bike is to be completed today, or else rations will be cut short for the next three days."