Fires of disbelief

Gida lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, tracing her eyes from one panel to the next, back and forth, up and down. She knew the ceiling had 17 panels across and estimated it’s length to be about double it’s width. She studied this vision daily. The hands of a clock moved with each moment that passed, echoing dimly from the kitchen through the bedroom door. Gida shared a queen sized bed with her eldest daughter, and her son slept at the end of their bed on a blow up mattress. Between the tick of the clock and the ceiling above, Gida had more than enough to keep her occupied for the night. She rarely slept well these days, however she was convinced that a generous variety of supplements ought to successfully counterbalance the sleep deprivation.

Eventually the morning arrived. Alerted by the stirring of Bips, the cat, with a meow and a scratch at the door. Gida often felt great relief when the signs of morning came around, since she was occasionally brought to panic that the night would never end. As always, she rose immediately to commence her day. There wasn't a great deal to do this day, a short list of groceries on a sticky awaited her on the dining table. As the children continued to sleep, Gida left for the grocery store. Up and down the aisles, cart clasped firmly in hand. Gida scanned the shelves, she didn't need tea, she didn't need Asian spices, she didn't need sugar, yet she investigated them all. All senses engaged. After reading the jingle on her third box of cereal, Gida’s eyes met a woman who was stopped right in front of her, also with a cart clasped firmly in hand. 

“Oh, hi Lea, I didn't recognise you at first!” Gida blurted, after reading her brain’s ‘familiar face’ alert. 

“I didn't mean to scare you Gida!” Lea chuckled. Gida smiled and asked Lea about the kids, and the job, and the house, and the dog, and all of that. Gida noticed Lea’s cart to be empty, strange she noted. With a polite smile they parted ways, both pushing their carts to opposite ends of the aisle.

At home the groceries were unpacked by her daughter, her son had turned on the television to play games. Before he could even begin, he was interrupted by Gida asking him to help his sister. The television was left to it’s own devices, a popular news channel began, bright and dramatic titles zoomed across the screen, where a very well done up woman stood front and centre, talking, talking, talking, with a concerned dent in her brow. Gida doesn't appreciate the news channel being on, she often says, “The only news I care about, is the news in my own street” The news channel is particularly overstimulating. Gida found this news anchor, Mildred Meeth, especially disturbing. Her aggressively muscular build and heavy makeup, Gida found intimidating, she saw her as unwomanly and strange looking. Gida gestured to her son, to turn down the television so that she could continue pottering in the kitchen in peace. 

Gida preferred to receive her news straight from the source, and have it emailed, so that she may view it in her own time, when she was feeling up to it. She had been following a Mr Klein Black, a journalist, with a blog, who regularly posts updates on politics, the world, and the economy. Gida appreciates him for his sincerity and willingness to look outside the box, his political reporting wasn't contaminated by his own agenda, but rather had a broad perspective. When attempting to introduce Mr Klein Black’s platform to someone new, Gida often used the same spiel, “He just isn't afraid to say the truth, the truth you won’t get from other places” It’s an incredibly tempting selling point, we all want the truth, don't we? 

“Children, come and sit down for dinner”, Gida alerted, her voice chirpy and proud.

“One minute!” Both children echoed back.

Gida was a proud cook, especially when it was something new and extra nutritious to feed her growing children, Alexandra and Peter. Two very bright youngsters, both extremely independent. They needed to be. These lovely meals, filled with sustenance were one of the few ways Gida reminded herself she was a good mother. At times guilt caught her, the guilt that their father wasn't around so much anymore. He drank a bit too much, and Gida thought she was doing the right thing by setting a boundary. She had had enough, she thought this ultimatum would be the fork in the road, the thing that turned him back to health. Instead he disappeared, occasionally showing his face for a birthday or christmas. 

“Thanks Mum, this smells good”, Peter assured his mother.

“Yeah Mum, thanks for this”, Alexandra added.

“Look, Mum I need your help this week. One of my friends doesn't have a ride to school. Can you take the both of us?” Alexandra posed.

Gida’s face tightened and her eyes drew down, “Well yes, I guess”

“Is it not okay?” Alexandra pushed. “Surely you can do this one thing for me, I’ve been doing everything for you! Laundry and cleaning all week, and paying all those bills for you!”

“Yes! Yes it’s fine, relax Alex, no need to remind me of all you do” Gida was feeling defensive. 

“Well thanks” Alex settled.

“Son, what does your week look like?” Gida turned her attention toward her son.

“Quite normal Mum, I have that extra curricular activity at school this week, we go away for Wednesday and Thursday night, to that science museum down near the border” Peter said, loading up a forkful of peas and potato.

“What activity? You didn't tell me about this Peter” Gida inquired.

“I guess I didn’t. Does that matter?”

Gida was proud of her children but was equally offended by their independence at times, it triggered within her a fear that she hadn’t been enough for them.

Monday rolled around. Alexandra was up and ready, lunch packed, hair braided, shoes on, ready to be driven to school by her mother. Gida had been awake for as long as her daughter, making coffee and fussing over Bips. Gida drove slowly with her daughter and friend sitting on the back seat. Both hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, scanning the road and each car that passed by. Upon arriving at school, the girls hopped out, slamming the door behind them and wishing Gida a nice day. Gida took a moment for herself, breathing deeply, observing the other cars pulling up to the curb to drop off their children. A car pulled up in front, a red Ford, with a slightly faded paint job, it was a tidy but well-used car. Little Sara Rozefelt hopped out, or what used to be little Sara, now a 16 year old young woman, just like her daughter. Gida investigated the rearview mirror of the Ford, squinting her eyes, hoping they'd zoom like a camera. She wondered if it was Mr or Mrs Rozefelt aboard. Eyes. She met eyes in the rearview mirror. Were they the eyes of a man or a woman? It was hard to tell. She held eye contact, until a shiver was sent down her spine. The eyes blinked, but they blinked across, not up and down, but across, like a window sliding shut. Gida drove home, tired, deciding what she had seen was nothing more than a reminder to go and catch up on some sleep!

She curled up on the couch, with every intention of napping, but decided it would be best to catch up on some news first. So out came the most recent blog post by Mr Klein Black. Today he spoke about the economy, stating that it was considerably more unstable than what we've been led to believe. Gida didn't feel so tired anymore, she scrolled back, back, back, into the last week or two of Mr Klein Black’s posts. When she came across something interesting… “How can these people be human?!” As Gida read this headline it sparked her memory of reading it when it was initially posted. Mr Klein Black spoke of a plethora of outrageous political decisions that had been made. He posed the question, “How could any person with any level of moral integrity make such a decision?… How could any human make such a decision?” He named these acts “a violation against people”. Whether Gida been looking for this title subconsciously or not was not something that she was ready to look at. Feeling a little overwhelmed by the inner thoughts of Mr Klein Black, she decided to shut down her computer to take that nap after all.

She drifted off into a blissful slumber, often sleeping better in an empty house, believing that an empty house gives true space to process and rest. In her sleep she began falling, deeper and deeper. This was the kind of sleep she had been needing on every level of her being. She snored softly for many hours, until she was awoken by what could be the greatest panic she’d ever felt. Propped up by her elbows and covered in sweat, trying to catch her breath, Gida tried to reorient herself. The details were a blur, it was a dream, thank god. The feeling was more clear than the content, the only image that remained was seeing herself, surrounded and alone.

Days passed, and the sleep deprivation continued, with nightly rest totalling 4-5 hours on a good day. Gida was now used to this way of functioning. By no means was she thriving but she was surviving, and in a rhythm that she could cope with. On this particular day Gida was set to visit the town center, she had paperwork to submit and needed to attend the post office in person. Standing in the line outside the post office, all she could do was watch the movement of the world. People walking, talking, zipping across the main street, all of whom seemed to be in a great rush, on a mission with great urgency. Gida’s attention landed on one particular gentleman. He was older and seemed to be taking more time than the others. He wore a cream coloured coat, with a matching hat, wires of grey wispy hair sneaking out from the brim, and circular glasses resting upon a long bony nose. He sat on a bench that lined the roadside, one leg over the other, while flicking a news paper. Gida watched how with each page turn he would jiggle the newspaper, ruffling it out smooth again. On his fourth page turn Gida noticed something strange. His hand, something was wrong. Small razor sharp grey tips topped the end of his fingers, ripping through the edge of the newspaper as he ruffled the paper. His knuckles were horrifyingly hard looking, almost resembling leather, or snake skin. Gida continued to watch for a few minutes, confirming to herself that indeed what she was seeing was real. The man rose, and walked by her on his way, his hands covered by the cuffs of his coat, all that was visible was a newspaper, hanging out the end of his sleeve, as if it were hanging by a hook.

Gida dreamt again, waking up and diving back into the findings of Mr Klein Black. Two years ago he interviewed a man named Piere Hund, a notorious conspiracy theorist. Piere spoke of an otherworldly infiltration into the realm of politics, even Piere was a little out there for Mr Klein Black. Piere rambled on about the likelihood that, we, here on earth, have been infiltrated by extraterrestrials. These extraterrestrials are said to hide as humans, supposedly mimicking our looks and behaviours. To the untrained eye, they are allegedly almost completely indistinguishable from humans. Gida kept reading, paragraph after paragraph. Mr Klein Black was no doubt a talented interviewer, he took the ‘sane’ parts of Mr Hund’s belief system and twisted them into believable points. As Gida read, she began walking the tightrope of deciding whether Piere is a genius or a complete maniac. The tightrope of acceptance and rejection, where eventually the moment comes; when you must decide whether the eyes through which you see the world will adopt a new lens or not. Gida walked the tightrope, until she remembered all she had seen. That man! The other day in the street, with the claws. Those eyes! In the rearview mirror, that blinked across. This could be true. Her toes crossed the line. She read on. “These beings pretend to do normal things like the rest of us. They eat and go shopping, but it is all an act. They hide among us” Gida remembered, LEA! In the supermarket, no food in her cart at all. Could it be? Gida stood with a full foot across the line, she had made her choice on this tightrope. Her lips quivered, her heart pounded. “Don’t try calling these creatures out! They’ll never admit to it” Gida closed her laptop, and darted outdoors for some fresh air. Panting, staring into the street, Gida had chosen a new lens. 

Gida tried her best to deny how she was now seeing the world. The urge for something comforting and normal arose, so she invited her oldest friend, Harriet, over for tea. The conversation felt awkward at first, with Gida feeling like there was an elephant in the room, yet she danced around it. ‘I think we've been invaded by extraterrestrials’, doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue naturally. 

Until it did, “Hari, there’s something really strange happening, basically… well, there’s otherworldly creatures living here, kind of, in disguise”.

Harriet stared at the words that had just spilled out of Gida’s mouth, a tiny smirk starting at the corner of her mouth. 

“No, no, Hari, I’m serious. I know it sounds crazy but I've seen them, more than once. They look like ordinary people!” Gida blurted, a swirl of desperation in her stomach.

“Gida, I know it’s fun to read those silly theories but you can’t seriously believe any of that”.

“Hari, I know how this must sound. Yet I have seen them with my own eyes!!” Gida’s heart was beginning to drop.

“Gida, I don’t know what to say. These things you read online are bullshit” 

Gida sat there, engulfed in panic, mind racing, fingers tapping, throat tightening. The words of Piere Hunds bounced around the four walls of her skull. There was now an even bigger elephant in the room. ‘We’ve been invaded by extraterrestrials and I think you're one of them’

“You’re… you’re, you're one of them, aren't you?” Gida pleaded.

“Gida, what on earth?” Harriet scoffed.

With no breath left nor reason to grab onto, Gida fled out the front door, slamming it behind her.

As she returned later that evening, Gida was met with what appeared to be an intervention. Harriet, her children and her ex-husband all seated around the dining table. “Gida, it’s okay, we’re just here to talk, everyone is concerned” her ex-husbands voice soft with worry. The children stared at their mother as if she were an extraterrestrial herself. 

A great reaction had already commenced inside Gida’s body. The floods of shame tore down everything in its path, the fires of disbelief burned mercilessly, the storms of betrayal cracked lightning through each vein. Her thoughts were few. ‘It couldn't be, no, not my own children, it couldn't be’.

Now, Gida was a person who believed she was the only human left on earth.