A Jovian Introduction

Recently, the U.S. Government has been under immense pressure to reveal what they know about alien lifeforms. The demands have been there for decades but things changed after the events of August 10^th, 2025. On that night, unidentified otherworldly craft were seen over most major US cities. 

At 7:45pm EDT, minutes before sunset, an object was seen off the Atlantic coast, moving inexplicably fast toward the city of Boston. Many hundreds of beachgoers in the area witnessed the phenomenon and the best smartphone videos went viral within minutes. 

At 7:53, a ship was seen over Washington D.C.

At 7:56, a ship over Orlando.

At 8:02, Chicago.

Then St. Louis, Missoula, Denver, Los Angeles, and Juneau, to name a few. Just when it seemed to be over, a craft came from the west, for the first time, toward Honolulu, Hawaii.

In all cases, the ships appeared very quickly and spent exactly nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds in the area before disappearing as fast as they had come. They looked like stealth bombers only more rounded and with no clear beak. The single most terrifying thing was not their looks or abrupt arrival and departure but rather what they did while they were there. Regardless of city size, each craft spent the entirety of it’s nine minutes and thirty-seven seconds moving overhead in a zig-zag pattern that could only be described as pre-meditated. Scanning, collecting data, observing; whatever they were doing, it was wildly unsettling. 

Images and mostly videos blew up across social media over the next twenty-four hours and quickly made it obvious that no other country experienced such encounters. Tossing that fact on the growing heap of evidence was like pouring gas on a pile of dry pine needles. The U.S. President tried to calm fears by saying that he had it on good authority that many such crafts were seen over plenty of foreign cities but that was a crock of shit and everyone knew it. It wasn’t even forty-eight hours later when the president of Russia claimed that the U.S. Government was in deep conversation with the extra-terrestrials and that is why they visited U.S. locations only; they had been welcomed. He said the American Government had promised a level of cooperation that all other major countries had so far not agreed to.

I couldn’t have imagined a more divisive topic and it was clear that Russia had seen the same potential. After Russia’s message, the left and right split even more widely with liberals saying we should welcome these beings and get a seat at the galactic table and conservatives straight up declaring war on the alien intruders.

That was a week ago. 

This morning the U.S. President shocked the world. In an unexpected formal response to the Russian President’s accusations, he admitted to ongoing communication with the “Jovians” and promised full transparency of information to the general public, starting the next day. 

Within minutes, various cabinet members and senior senators, escorted by secret service agents, were in the lobbies of most major media outlets across the country.

I don’t know what happened behind all those fancy closed doors but at 9:00am EDT, it was announced that no more than one reporter from one news organization would be granted full access to a triangular craft and the Jovians within. The New York Times was identified as having accepted the offer and had three hours to determine which journalist would be sent to Nevada. 

At 11:00am and just under five weeks of employment, the CEO of The New York Times summoned me to his office. I didn’t really think he was the guy doing the firing but I could imagine no other outcome. 

My name is Garrett Price, reporter for the New York Times, and tomorrow I will board an alien spacecraft. 

-

After a rigorous security check, I was led through a set of double doors and into a short hallway leading into a massive hangar. Along the way, my escort, who just happened to be Chief of Staff for the U.S. Secretary of State, reiterated that for the first stage of the tour, both audio and video recordings were permitted but that I should touch nothing. When we reached the final set of doors, he stopped and turned to me.

“Congratulations, Mr. Price. You are about to become the first private citizen to meet the Jovians. It is a privilege above all others that you are the man to introduce them to the world.”

With that, he swung the doors open and my breath flew outwards with them. Before us sat one of the bulbous triangular ships that had recently visited so many U.S. cities. I was not prepared for the feeling of personal insignificance that accompanied seeing one of them up close. The surface was smooth and mostly unbroken. It had a dark sheen, like metal coated with a thin layer of oil. As we drew closer I realized it was actually a very dark brown, almost like a tree wound covered in sap.

As my brain came to terms with what it was seeing, I began to notice more. All around the glossy surface of the ship, there were things like tubes shooting outwards and connecting to a spherical, slightly pulsing section of what I assumed was the rear of the ship. Questions leaped to my lips as I quickly pulled out my phone and began to video.

I narrated, “This is Garrett Price, reporter for The New York Times, bringing you your first up-close look at what we now know to be a Jovian craft from Ganymede, moon of Jupiter. With me, I have the Chief of Staff to the U.S. Secretary of State. Sir, do you know the purpose of these tubes leading from across the surface of the ship to that section in the rear?”

He looked at the camera and said, “It’s really quite amazing.” Turning to gesture towards the ship, he continued, “The craft is more akin to our trees than to anything else, really. It actually produces its own fuel when idle. Right now it’s secreting a liquid similar to the sap our maples create that we turn into syrup.”

I interjected, “That’s exactly what I thought it looked like!” I was getting excited at this point.

“Isn’t it fascinating? So familiar yet… so foreign. In this case, the sap is transported to that holding tank which converts it into usable fuel. When it’s full, the tubes will detach and retreat back into the tank.” 

Almost on cue, a tube near us came loose with a gelatinous pop and crept upward several yards before latching on again. Then, backlit by the floodlights above, I noticed the tube was slightly transparent and I could see the liquid as it started to flow back to the holding tank.

I was in a trance when he broke the relative silence and asked if I was ready to go inside. I nodded and continued to video the craft up close as we walked around to the back. It was only then that I realized it was sitting flat on the ground, with no landing gear or anything similar. We rounded the back and I could see no discernible engines or propulsion mechanisms. I opened my mouth to ask about this but hesitated. It wasn’t important because right then, the back of the craft split open vertically. I could think of no other way to describe the way it looked other than to say it was unmistakably vaginal. When the sequence was completed, the door was wide enough for two humans to walk through, closely. A warm amber glow emanated outwards. My guide stopped and turned to me, gesturing forward with his hand. I nodded slightly and stepped into the ship. 

As the warm light washed over me, the thing that surprised me most was that the interior of the just recently identified flying object wasn’t a mess of screens, holograms, and buttons. Neither was it amorphous, fleshy, and grossly biological. It was a veritable garden of flowers, moss, exposed roots, and giant leaves.

Everywhere, beetle-shaped denizens the size of hobbits buzzed two and fro. Their big, reddish-brown, chitinous shells split from their oval shape to emit giant pearlescent wings that carried them from one plant to the next. Unless they needed to hover to attend to them, they would drop slowly down onto their legs and, I think, ‘manipulate” is the only word I could use to describe what they did to the plants. When standing, their four tall legs seemed to fuze with the roots beneath them. Each Jovian had a proboscis-like organ on their face, dancing and crawling over the leaves and flowers in front of them. After a time it became clear that there were patterns. Some were dedicated to functions wholly distinct from others.

My guide led me through the garden and explained some of the Jovians’ various functions as we went. Some of the terms he used I didn’t recognize at all. I asked if I could follow up with him on some of the details tomorrow and he said that yes, he would be in touch. 

He led me from the chamber which I began to realize had to do with the sap-to-fuel conversion and through a narrow passageway that was lined with what looked like bark. I began to reach out to feel the texture and he grabbed my wrist. “Don’t touch, remember?” I nodded gravely in understanding.

We reached an opening and walked into a colossal room that formed the center of the ship. A mass of dirt, roots, moss, and plants climbed upwards to a peak in the center that was probably four to five feet from the roof itself. The path formed a ring around this and plants climbed up from the outward side as well. It was like a lush circular valley that was eerily quiet.

My guide said, “This is their main operations center. Re-fueling is the priority while they are grounded so most of the workers are assisting with that. The remainder are resting, preparing for the trip back home.” He led me around the circle and I saw that there were but several Jovians at work with a group of large flowers; some of which were red and others were green. A few seemed to be transforming between the two colors and I realized this was likely an indication of the fuel situation. 

In that muted setting, I finally got a chance to observe the Jovians without distraction. The color and shape of the closed shells on their backs reminded me of something adjacent that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“These guys look like something familiar,” I said.

“Like Jupiter’s Great Red Spot?”

“Oh my gosh…” Something about this rocked me. It drove home the magnitude of what I was witnessing. I had to take a moment to simply watch and attempt to find my place in this new, expanded reality.

At some point, we reached a door of sorts that led to what was likely the cockpit or the bridge. My guide turned to me. “Ok, you are welcome to proceed, but from here you will need to take notes by hand as discussed.” I nodded, turned off my recording device, and handed it to him along with my smartphone. “The Secretary of State will be waiting for you on the other side of the passage.”

-

I step through the opening into a tunnel maybe twenty feet long which dog-legs to the right. It opens into a more close feeling room than what I’ve experienced so far. Vines crawl over the ceiling here but otherwise, the plant life looks similar to what I’ve seen up to this point. I’m almost startled to see another human in the midst of it all, everything feels so surreal. My imposter syndrome flares as the Secretary of State reaches out to shake my hand. I, a journalist with minimal experience and mere weeks on the job, reach back.

“Mr. Price, thank you for coming today. You play a very important part in today’s events and I thank you for your willingness to participate.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Do you have any questions so far?”

Dozens roll through my mind. I gaze around the room pretending I’m inspecting it while I try to decide if I should ask the most pressing question on my mind.

“Mr. Price?”

I realize I’ve been stalling too long. “Yes?”

“You can be candid with me, I assure you. This conversation will not leave this room.”

I decide to bite. “Ok then, why me?”

The United States Secretary of State looks back at me with skeptical eyebrows and pursed lips.

I press on. “Sure, I’m with The New York Times but I have no experience at this level. I feel like I just started this job yesterday. Why not bring along the top guy? Someone with name recognition?”

The Secretary of State merely smiles and lays her hand between my shoulder blades. Slight pressure indicates I should move. We start to walk towards another door and her hand drops to grab the wrist of the other in the small of her back.

“Because you are single, Garrett.”

“What?” I’m confused.

“You are single and with no dependents.”

“What about my parents?” I don’t even know why my thoughts go here first. Apparently, I’ve guessed the rest already.

“They aren’t exactly ‘dependent’ on you yet, yes? There’s plenty of time to make other arrangements in your absence.”

“But I’m from The New York Times, how are you going to explain this?”

“Explain what? You are enamored with the Jovians, are you not?”

“Well…”

“And you decided to make the trip home with them, regardless of my protests.”

“But why?”

“Because they want to study our anatomy.”

“Couldn’t they have simply abducted someone? Like in the stories?”

“That is what they are doing, Garrett. But they couldn’t risk the fallout that would have come with a RANDOM abduction, no matter how remote it was. No, the Jovians are very calculating and have offered the United States certain assurances, IF we can provide them with a test subject, inconspicuously.”

The reality begins to set in and I’m beginning to panic. “But I’m a journalist covering this very situation! My disappearance will be too high profile!” It feels weak but it’s all I’ve got.

“On the contrary, it’s just as high profile as we need. This way the story gets out and the public is satisfied with our benevolent transparency. At the same time, we give the Jovians what they require and make them look irresistible in the process.”

“Nobody will believe you!” I’m yelling now, trying to fight this.

“You underestimate how many people have seen ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’, Mr. Price. I think our explanation will come across as perfectly plausible.” With this, she makes a hand signal and I feel sharp limbs reach around each of my shoulders. “Thank you for your donation, Mr. Price. Rest assured, your story will be told, or rather, most of it will.”

I flinch as I feel a wet proboscis slide across the back of my neck. Another creeps around the folds of my ear and I begin to scream. They drag me backward through the now open “door”, my heels dragging and bouncing over the knotty wooden floor. 

In this new room, the light changes to a soft green, like when the sun shines down through new spring leaves. I look back over my left shoulder and see maybe eight more Jovians waiting eagerly, proboscises reaching toward the ceiling in apparent arousal. 

I scream anew as I’m shoved backward onto a stump-like surface. Sharp claws and slimy suckers crawl over me. One of the Jovian beetles flies over me and hovers there. I can feel the wind from it’s wings blowing my hair back and making my eyes water. My scream is cut short as his proboscis bends down, meets with my lips, and sucks inward.

-

REPORTER PROVIDES FANTASTICAL LOOK INTO ALIEN CRAFT BEFORE LEAVING EARTH WITH THE JOVIANS - Garrett Price, Posthumously 

-

I awake feeling groggy and confused. My sense of smell seems delayed and accentuated. I unsuccessfully try to blink away the many mirrored image in front of me. What I see when I give up and adjust to this confused view startles me into the air. Staring back at me is the Great Red Spot of Jupiter, crimson and terrible. This is when I realize I’m hovering ten feet above the ground. I raise my hands to my face for inspection and what I see are four claws, reddish-brown and covered in small spikes.