The Nest

One humid summer night in 2022, the US President was awakened by an emergency call for a meeting, requested by the head of NASA. In the next day, the President was on air, informing the world that Earth was in the way of a fleet of meteors, the average size of one of them is bigger than times square. Unless properly dealt with, he said, they could be the end of life as we know it. As searches of the Times Square size surged, many governments started a joint initiative to send a number of highly advanced missiles to destroy the celestial bodies, but one scandal emerged after another, and investigations were conducted as accusations, from misogyny and racism to money laundry and white-collar crimes, blew into both social media and courtrooms.

Those who were responsible were pulling every string they got to cover up the truth, maybe even buy voices into their side. And as the tension escalated, several governments started pointing fingers at one another for their exploitation of the project as a publicity stunt, and prioritizing their images over the actual project. Some took that claim more seriously than others, urging the UN to step into the conflicts. Around that time, a user by the name of NotYourTypicalAverageDonkey708312y2, commented on a video that discusses the issue, complaining about how officials delayed several steps in the project and how that was not in the world’s best interest as we were getting closer to impact by the minute. The comment went viral in a matter of days and became the new social media sensation, and a lot of memes were made. The populace saw the message NotYourTypicalAverageDonkey708312y2 was trying to send, and people from all over the world decided to finally change things for the better. They all died some days after because of a meteor shower. Well, almost all.

The next morning, Quintin, also known as NotYourTypical… etc., was carefully trying to get himself out of his parachute’s orange canopy, which was folded around him like a cocoon, and hanging from the concrete ruins of what looked like it had been a skyscraper. He didn’t see anything beyond that orange veil, nor had an idea of his current altitude, so he started cutting the nylon fabric with his pocketknife as if he was threading a needle. He managed to see the iron rebar that chute was stuck in, as well as the thirty feet between him and the street sidewalk. He started performing strange postures to reach the rebar, grateful that no one was around to see him, but getting sweatier and more nervous. He took hold of one skewer and finally got out of his orange straitjacket, and onto the top of a massive pile of concrete, office décor, and employee casualties. His search for a way to street level led him to disappear in the ruins.

Yesterday, Quintin had reluctantly agreed to his brother’s invitation to try parachuting over Seattle, as part of his “bucket list” before the meteors’ arrival. They were mid-air when they both saw something else flying down in the distance as well. All Quintin could do was wish those were low-quality fireworks before the two were swallowed in the titanic shockwave.

After finding his way down to the pavement, Quintin realized there was no point in searching for his brother. He wandered the streets, now inhabited by dunes of debris, piled around buildings’ leftovers, trying to determine what street was it, to navigate to his home and wife, but the hope to find her alive was waning in front of the still chaos surrounding his existence. The only curious thing on the horizon was a distant fog that seemed to slowly spread from a certain spot. Despite this unusual scene, Quintin decided to go there, in the hopes of finding any living being.

He reached the foggy spot, weary of the walk. But the fog was only hiding something within, right in the middle of a former square, a mass of thick pinkish jelly forming a slug-like body with several tumors, large as a soccer stadium turned on its side, and dispersing fumes from drain-sized pores on its back. He walked around that figure and saw its face: Owl-like, looking directly to the sun with two grayish eyes with no pupils, and no mouth. It was all very quiet, until he heard a majestic voice echoed around all over him:

“Who are you, dude?”

Quintin jumped and looked around, then back at the thing. He noticed fleshy hoses coming out of its front, just below the head, and extending to several corpses on the ground. They were attached to their heads.

“Did I use the term ‘dude’ wrongly?” The voice filled the air.

“What?”

There was a moment of quietness.

“Who are you, guy?”

“Okay,” Quintin replied ”the right one was ‘dude’. I’m sorry, but to just get it out the way, are you going to kill me?”

“You creatures have weird interactions..”

“We’re called humans.” Quintin yelled “And what are you called?”

“You cannot pronounce this term in our native language.”

“Can you.. translate it?”

The owl-faced creature remained quiet for a minute.

“No.”

“Okay..” Quintin looked at him carefully, ready to flee at any sign of danger “What are you doing to those people?”

“Transferring their knowledge and memories.”

“Ah..”

“By the way, why do you creatures spend so much currency on… clothes? Is that the term?”

“Yes, it is,” Quintin sat down “Did you come here to make fun of our customs?”

“No, my siblings and I were dropped here by our mother as eggs, to hatch.”

“Well, you kinda killed us all by the way.”

“Are you blaming a baby for your problems?”

“What?” Quintin abruptly stood up with his teeth on the edge “What kind of baby speaks perfect English, criticizes my spending habits and weighs like freaking Greenland?”

“I don’t know. I told you I am baby.”

“How do you know all this then?”

“I told you I transfer the knowledge from those creatures.” His voice echoed.

Quintin started walking around, resorting to silence. His eyes were fixed on the creature, yet he avoided looking at those tumors as much as possible.

“Well even if it’s not your fault as a single.. baby.” He went on “Your species destroyed this place. There were billions of us before- Hey, are you even listening?” He looked up at his face, still fixed on the sun.

“Yes.”

“Okay, so there were billions of us here.”

“It feels like there were too many of you.”

“Who are you to decide?”

“I didn’t decide anything, remember?”

“Yes.” Quintin looked away at a wrecked structure. “So, what is your business here?”

“That,” The alien explained, “is what I am trying to remember.”

“Remember?”

“Our specie’s memories act as one. It flows through us all. An individual only takes time to remember the purpose, the identity, the means of survival, and other memories. It slowly arrives from our subconsciousness to our consciousness. Visually contacting a source of light accelerates.”

“Accelerates..” Quintin repeated, pretending to understand, “I understand.”

“So,” The alien paused for about a minute “Why did you come here?”

“I.. saw the smoke.”

“It is water vapor. It is a secondary product after we absorb energy.”

“Good to know.” He tried to practice politeness ”Now excuse me, but I need to leave.”

“Why?”

“I have things to do.”

“Did you do what you arrived here for?”

“No.”

“Can I know what it is?”

“What is what?”

“Your purpose.”

“Oh!” Quintin stopped practicing “Nothing, I just woke up and thought about finding a way to repopulate the human race!”

“Good luck.”

“Yeah, no kidding. I need to look for somebody else.” He encouraged himself “I can’t be the only one that survived what happened.”

“I survived too,” The pink slimy alien said “I am very happy. Most of us are destroyed as eggs at impact.”

“Yeah, I mean someone else.”

“I only sense one brother near. He is..” He paused for a second “1706.2 rulers from here.”

“What? Why are you measuring in rulers?”

“Well, how do you measure?”

“We use feet,” he explained “a few people use meters, but it basically doesn’t count..”

“Feet of who?”

“No, feet is a fixed number, uhm… It’s about.. one ruler – Never mind.” He looked at the afternoon sun “I will go away now and find another human being before nightfall, ok? See ya.”

“There is one here.” One of his hoses detached from a corpse and went inside the fourth floor of a desolate building. It removed some a fallen piece of a ceiling away.

“She has awakened.” The alien announced.

Minutes later, a young girl hesitantly walked to the edge of the building, pale as a ghost, gazing at the horrific being in the middle of current nowhere.

“Patricia?” Quintin called in amazement.

“Mr. Weatherley?” She replied, looking hard to make sure.

“Are you alright up there?” He asked loudly.

“I think, yeah. But I lost your car keys; I’m so sorry, sir.”

“Well, I lost the car. Don’t worry, Patricia; it’s insured.”

“Are cars that important to you, creatures?”

“Oh my Lord, that thing speaks!”

“Yeah, he’s probably not gonna kill us, but that is just my guess.”

“It is my guess too.” The alien assumed “But I will ask you something: Can you poke this mass here? It should fall off right after.”

“Oh,” Quintin looked at one large tumor right next to a building’s gates “Well, you might be closer than me, Patricia. It’s the tumor way down on your right.”

“You can poke it with any sharp thing, and it will clean.”

“Can’t see the tumor from here, sir. Besides, I don’t understand a thing it says.”

“Okay, try and find the stairs and come down.”

She took her time searching, as the sky quietly changed to orange.

“Ok, Mr. Weatherley,” Behind the alien’s hoses was the building gate that Patricia walked out of, before grabbing a long sharp piece of wood “What should I do again?”

“Good job. Now, I need you to poke this tumor right there on the side.” He pointed.

“There are a dozen tumors there!”

“The one on your right…” He moved around to get a better look “The one that looks like Jeremy’s car.”

“Oh, you could’ve said this earlier” She recognized the one and thrust the wooden piece in it. It shivered and opened to reveal an old light green car.

“Jeremy?”

“You should step back.” The alien noted as the car fell outside the slimy mass.

She came back shaking, to check the car again.

“Sir, I think I’ve found Jeremy!” She shouted from the far side. Quintin frowned.

“I’m not going near that car to cover myself with alien slime.”

She stepped back as well after taking a close look: “Now what?”

“I’ll find a way around that thing and reach you – We’re probably gonna stay here for tonight, maybe camp in that building you were in.”

“The sun is setting, and the sky will become dark soon.” The alien said.

“But, Mr. Weatherley,” Patricia felt otherwise “Shouldn’t we look for others?”

“It’s alright, Patricia.” Quintin assured her “I suppose it’s better not to wander at night.”