Born an Alien

  Clover darted between the hovercrafts and swept around the corner market. The lingering calls of “Come get your meat!” rang after her as she hustled past the morning peddlers. The grilling aroma behind her remained in her nostrils, and her empty stomach despised her rush. She brushed between two more commuters, missing the heated exhaust pipes by inches. 

           She couldn’t be late again. How would she explain herself this time? Covington Galaxy demanded strict obedience, but Planet Dax expected total submission. Two marks from her employer would certainly bring scrutiny she could not afford. 

          The winds rolling off the cliffs surrounding the tiny town of Sloan worked against Clover as she fought to move faster. The clocks were against her as well. The digital scroll running along the tops of the markets displayed her disappearing minutes. She had three… no two minutes, before her tardiness would be counted.

         The black door loomed into view, squashed between the hovering air cars. She could reach it with seconds to spare if this street parted like the Red Sea, a tale she had heard as a child around her family’s fireplace. What could do the job? Ah, the Daxians aversion to sickness. She could make use of that. Although, their concern would not be for the infirmed. Empathy was a foreign word which had never developed in their genes. Empathy was another tall tale spoken of around fireplaces. No, they would scatter from her path like leaves in this fierce wind simply so they did not catch what she supposedly had. Clover tried to stuff the voice down which whispered of her forbidden care. She did not want to think about that right now. 

            Instead, she began to yell, “Unclean! Unclean!”

            Sure enough, the hovercrafts drifted to the edges of the road and hugged the store fronts. Looks of distaste were shot her way, and Clover crushed the hurt which attempted to rise. She had known this would happen. Why did it bother her?

            She burst through the door as the 9 o’clock hour began to chime throughout Sloan. Her huffing and puffing could not be silenced, and it told the truth of the nature of her arrival. Luger appeared from some creepy, shadowy corner, seemingly summoned by her obvious predicament. 

           “Clover. My office, now.” 

           His slithering, slimy voice curdled her stomach. Maybe, it had been a good thing she had not had time to eat. Her shoulders wanted to slump in defeat, but she would not show weakness to this man who feasted on such qualities. She raised her chin. She had made it to work when told to do so, and that should be the end of the story. A memory popped into her mind, clear as a painted picture, of the injured puppy she had stopped to assist outside her loft door. Had anyone seen her? Why should that be a problem? Hurt people were tended to, after all. This feeling inside her was no different than that, right?

            The hall to Luger’s office mimicked one of the dark caves dug into the cliffs around Sloan. Did he build it like this on purpose to crush a spirit before even beginning his reprimand? A spiraling shiver of fear raised along Clover’s spine.

            Luger slammed the door behind her as she entered in his wake. The sneer lingering on his face would soon be stuck there permanently if he didn’t let up. She braced herself for the tirade.

            “So…” The quiet tone was almost worse. “Care to explain your hasty entrance?”

           “I was on time, sir. Nothing to explain.”

           “Oh yes, you obeyed the laws, but this does not sit well with me.” Luger rumbled. “I sense a disrespectful tone emanating from you.”

            Clover’s hands began to tremble.

            The boss went from quiet foreboding to demanding aggression in an instant. “Look at me!” 

            The windows shook from the force of his yell.

            She complied instantly. She wasn’t trying to rebel. What was wrong with her? Was she broken? 

             The ranting and raving bowled her over. They had to know. They could see inside her thoughts. Her brain computed the numbers in her bank account. She had enough to skip town, but where to go? All of Covington Galaxy lacked the empathy emotion. If she was truly suffering from these lesser feelings, where could she hide? 

            “Something is off. You can tell me, Clover. Maybe we can help you.” The harsh orders transformed into whispered promises. “You won’t get in trouble. We’ll get you aid.”

           She did the only thing she could. She lied. “Accident in front of my loft slowed me down. That’s all, sir. Nothing else.”

            He growled. Her startled eyes flew to her boss’s. 

           “Fine. Have it your way. You’re being watched, Clover. You make one more misstep, and you’re gonna wish you’d been born in a different galaxy!” 

           Luger’s threat paralleled her thoughts. A different galaxy was exactly where she wanted to be.

           She hastened from the terrifying dungeon and went to work. The repetitive motion of molding the bowls from clay comforted Clover. For a little while. The puppy appeared in full color inside her mind again. Why, oh why, had she stooped to check on him? Had she burst a blood vessel? Why else would it feel like her heart was breaking? She had never heard of anyone else describing a similar event. Was she different? She could not stay here if she was different. Planet Dax ran as a well-oiled machine because there were no differences. There were marriages with care involved. There were jobs to be enjoyed. There was sadness over death, but one did not cross these feelings with the feelings of others. It was what was good for you or bad for you. Simple as that. Was there not more to existence though? 

            The singsong bell proclaimed 5 o’clock, surprising Clover. Had she daydreamed the entire 8 hours? 

            Suddenly, the overwhelming desire to escape these walls swamped her. She sprinted home close to the same speed as at the beginning of the day. She had to make a plan. This was twice now her concern for someone else had impacted her submission to The Schedule. She could not continue here. She tapped her head as if that would produce an idea. The soothing view from her loft of raised canyon walls spoke to her. She could not climb out, but she could fly out. Traders. At the hovercraft docks by the Council Center, many milled around waiting for auctions to commence. Of course, passing by the Council Center posed some danger. If she had one of her “spells” near the Council members, she would have no recourse. Rumors floated around Sloan of people silenced when they did not submit, but she had never heard of someone with an empathy gene. She could not even imagine the discipline administered for that aborrance. Would it just be death? Such a variation from normal society would never be tolerated. Where could she go though? Those stories of earth sounded fantastic, but wasn’t it located in the Milky Way Galaxy? Did traders travel that far? Only one way to find out. 

            More than once, Clover had been thankful their banks remained open 24 hours a day, but never more than right now. She emptied it. This would be a red flag, but she prayed she would be long gone before an inquiry could be made. The docks full of dusty, giant hovercrafts appeared through the end of day gloom. The Council had to have left for their evening meal, she hoped. They would not work past the lower class hours. Could some be socializing still? She would have to take that chance. The rank odor of unwashed bodies reached her first, then the exhaust from the flight crafts next. The raucous laughter and dirty jokes swarmed her as she entered the fray of world travelers. Could she do this? 

           The odious men began to take notice of her. Although her 5’8” height was greater than most females, it paled in comparison to these burly fellows. Her eyes were peeled for the 3 stripes on a shirt sleeve which would indicate a captain. Hands began to reach for her arms, attempting to halt her progress. She held her breath to squeeze smaller and not breathe in the smells surrounding her. Her air gushed from her lungs upon spying what she searched for. The captain she had spotted had different features than her own which screamed off-worlder. He had two eyebrows hovering over two deep blue orbs. A nose in the middle of his face stood stoutly over two lips. The close crop of hair did not dangle in strips around his shoulders as was the custom on Planet Dax but flowed in a honeyed sweep behind thin ears. She could not help her stare as she advanced on him with determined steps. Her gaze was caught by something bright red further down his body. She gasped and increased her speed.

            “You’re hurt!” She did not stop to consider the obvious portrayal of empathy. “Let me bind that arm for you.”

           His brow bunched as he observed her work. “This is above and beyond what I was told to expect here on Dax. It’s just a cut. Don’t bother with it.”

           In an instant, Clover realized the danger she was in if anyone else had witnessed her emotional outburst. Dang, why could she not squash this concern for others? He now knew her secret, a secret which she had not even wanted to admit to herself. He had to help her. “I-I’m Clover. Please, where are you headed next?” 

           “Hey, Clover. I’m Mark. Why are you asking?” His accent tickled her ears. 

          “Uh, look, I need help.” Her eyes misted which shocked her further. What could be next? She had to get out of this galaxy!

          “I can see that. Follow me aboard where it’s quieter.” His gentle nature spoke to her hurting heart.

           “Captain Mark, I can assist you with travel. I can be a backup mechanic. I’ve built my own hovercraft from scratch before. I can repair any utensil and cookware.” Her words tumbled free upon entering his domain. 

           “That sounds good, but I want to know why.” He pried again.

           “I’m… different. You must know how dangerous that can be in Covington Galaxy. Please, tell me you’re leaving this system. Please!” Her plea intensified.

           “I am. Headed for earth, in fact, where you can be yourself. BUT, I must know what the difference is. What makes you an enemy to your own people?”

            Her body shook in anticipation of speaking the dreaded fact aloud. She encouraged herself to just spit it out, but her throat dried beyond reason. She coughed. “It’s… empathy.” Her gaze jerked away from his face, seeking to avoid any disapproval which would surely form in his eyes. The ship was neat and clean, but she attempted to bore a hole in the walls so she could flee. 

             His sucked in breath confused her, and she could not prevent searching his features for a hint of his thoughts. He opened his mouth and spoke a beautiful balm to her spirit. “This is nothing to be ashamed of. This is commendable, in fact. Generations of selfish peoples and rules could not scotch your loving personality. How bold and brave this makes you! Yes, I am headed for earth. You must come along. You must be freed from this destructive civilization. It may work for these who have no care for others, but you cannot thrive in such an environment. I will take you.”

             Clover felt detached from her own body. Was she floating? Was it God who had guided her to Captain Mark? 

             She learned he had finished trading and had been going through his checklist for departure. Men scrambled around the ship, preparing for takeoff. They paid her no mind. The blast into space was nothing she had ever experienced in her little hovercrafts on Dax. The cliffs of Sloan disappeared in the blink of an eye and empty darkness consumed them. The journey at hyper speed would take two weeks, she had been told. How had she never considered this option before? If she had been honest to herself about her emotions, she could have done this eons before the age of 32. The fleeting interactions between her and Captain Mark simply confirmed she had made the right decision.

            The landing on earth dazzled her. The greens and blues burst over her sight in a splendid array. She could get used to this glory. Upon disembarking, dock workers began to help buckle the ship down. As she walked along the gangplank, one man jerked back with a sharp cry. She took in the problem in a moment. One of the landing legs had taken some damage which had chiseled it down to a jagged point, slicing through one of the man’s fingers. Clover leaped the last two feet to the man’s side without thinking. She applied pressure and was about to question him for signs of shock when her actions sank into consciousness. She rubbernecked for signs of anger or reproof. Would her first day on earth end with her being dragged to jail? The only witness stood on the gangplank. 

           Captain Mark shone with compassion. “Welcome to your true home, Clover. You’re finally free.”

           Then the tears she had dreaded on Dax came pouring from her eyes. He was right. She no longer had to hide nor fear her nature. She felt more alive than she ever had before. The man shifted under her tight hold on his wound, and she swiftly cleared her face. Focus on the needy first, then she could celebrate. Although she tended to the cut, inside the joy of survival bloomed. Her second life could begin.