Low Profile

[TW: hints of violence and mention of death]

Aunt Silvia died yesterday, or the day before, I am not sure. There was a message in a communication device that humans call “mobile”. I was on my Sunday walk when I read the text. I must attend the funeral now that I know about it, and my Sunday walks were ruined. So inconvenient.

Since the first “Great Emigration” (not to be confused with the event of the same name from human history: Wielka Emigracja, or any other event of the same name), we have officially lived on Earth for centuries. Someone might wonder: how can we do that? Of course, there is the technology to create new bodies but to keep up appearances, we must pretend to be other people. Think of it as a particular “witness protection program” like those in the American police shows on TV. We must pack, move, and start all over again. It’s the law, to prevent rising suspicions. Well practically, I usually have to pack and move, since Silvia tends to die first. So much documentation is required that the timing was simply inconvenient. Her body was so young, only thirty-five, and I was just getting used to this place. She must have gotten into trouble again.

The intergalactic law says that as “guests”, we must not influence crime, historical events, great discoveries, or matters that affect humans on a large scale. When there is any doubt of the scale, after the event, it can be a case in a specialized court, more bureaucracy. Ohtoterrians and our species have that in common. I sometimes think Max Weber might have been one of ours - if that is the case, then he must have broken the law about influencing things on this planet. I wonder what his punishment might have been.

Upon arrival, we were told that we must simply keep our heads down, live a “normal” life, and not cause any trouble if we don’t want to be sent back to our planet. Ajax is our case officer, who keeps an eye out from a distance to make sure things run smoothly.

I took a deep breath in, as an attempt to absorb everything of this moment. I observed how still was the lake with the ducks and the surrounding old buildings of the medieval town. The sounds around me, the moving of the tree leaves, the morning joggers, the sun rays shining on the surface of the calm water. My latest “home” was in Wernigerode, Germany. Locals like going for what they call “walks”, which I found quite nice. The feeling of the misty morning cold was refreshing and awakening.

I decided to do a last round of walking in this park as if I was saying goodbye. I wouldn’t go back; I wasn’t even sure if the place existed anymore.

I have only a few memories of our original planet, must be an effect of changing bodies and memories. We were purely intellectual beings, whose civilization fell because of our philosopher-kings, like male bees, sitting around and good-for-nothing when facing invaders, internal conflict, or natural disasters. It was our greatest chance for survival to disperse into different universes and galaxies, with the talent to adapt and survive in different and hostile environments with a minimum cost of life energy. With our intellect, we were able to strike a deal with Ohtoterians – they consider themselves the local human species of Earth, but that is debatable, as other human species have alternative histories for that. In any case, Ohtoterians seem to be the number one danger to their planet, so they must be strong or not so smart, or both. Then the “Great Emigration” was started, as Ohtoterrians are quite the drama queens with naming stuff.

We have been helping the status quo in any time period or place we were sent to, and in return, we gather information on this peculiar species, and we can use the resources available to us. Oh, how we love gathering information to the extent of obsession. No idea what to do with it though. Anyway, I do not know of the matters back “home” if I can call it that anymore. Communication is not allowed once you are here, and there is again a ton of procedures involved if you really want to do it.

As I finished my last walk at this park, I could still feel the chilly air, the humidity on my hair, how my lips feel dry, and how my nails turn purple when my hands are cold. This body has served me well, every bit manufactured like a human. Now my habit of walking in this gothic-aesthetic park was ruined, who knows where we would be sent next? I wondered as I went to the studio apartment I was staying.

For Aunt Silvia I was not worried, it was only her body that perished. But we are intellectual beings, we just need paperwork to be approved for having another body manufactured. Our species is genderless, purely intellectual of course, but unavoidably after having assigned bodies and living in those all this time, we kind of gradually create our own perception of identity. And habit would make it so that we imitate our previous bodies out of convenience and practicality. Depending on how busy the office would be, they would patch a new body in three to five months. This was one of the very few uses of our technology that was authorized on this planet, purely for convenience.

Aunt Silvia has always had a lively spirit; being a person of her own, questioning everything and not following blindly what she was told, even when that meant danger. She was the personification of the concept of “inconvenience”. That’s why she was changing bodies so often. Got caught up with the mob crowd, did not tolerate the harassment of any husband or boss, and always fought with a ton of people across all these centuries that were telling her what she is and what she must do. I always admired her and respected her for that. In some lives, she was my sister, my aunt, my friend. We basically coexisted nearby.

The next period was blurry or might have merely passed too fast. Might have been a glitch in my memory, but I remember moving places. I felt empty of purpose. Who am I eventually? A villager from a crowd standing in a medieval square observing a beheading, a compliant worker in a factory, a silent servant, an immigrant, a stranger in another land, an alien.

Around me the room was unfamiliar, and I felt dizzy. Did we change the place already? Aunt Silvia was dressed as a nurse, maybe it was her new disguise.

Out of the window, gray clouds were traveling over the tall green trees, everything was moving so slowly.

There was a stack of half-read books by the nightstand. Ajax purred.

“I will get something to feed you little one,” Silvia said; just before leaving the room she turned to me and said, “But don’t forget to get your pills, dear”.