HD - 496327584

The world has come to an end. Oh, it's still spinning, the sun is still shining, she supposes. Dogs still bark, cows graze, probably, but life as Diane has known is gone.

A week ago, what the movie Independence Day had predicted, had happened. Hundreds of alien ships had appeared and hovered just outside the earth's atmosphere. Thousands of smaller ships, stuffed to the gills with humanoids, had been deployed. It really had not been a fair fight.

Something resembling dirty bombs had been detonated, paralyzing all humans. In just a matter of hours, the humanoids had taken over everything from governments to manufacturing, from farming to sanitation.

Almost immediately, all women roughly between the ages of forty-five to fifty and all girls under the age of fifteen, had been rounded up and taken to detention centers. They are told that all other humans have been exterminated. It had been deemed that humans could not be trusted to look after their own planet any longer.

Diane languishes in Center 872, Block D, Dorm 5. She has 11 roommates. Some are fretting and crying and calling for their children, their husbands. Most are too stunned to react. There is no word on what's happening to the girls, but Diane thinks she knows and rubs her behind, a habit she had for thirty years.

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Several more weeks pass, but eventually the humanoids have settled in their jobs, essentially providing supplies and nutrition to the alien overlords. Now proper distribution of the women can begin. One dorm at a time, the women are inspected. It takes no time, at all. Just a quick look at the women's buttocks. After which they are either taken away or left in the dorm. Diane is down to two roommates. Distracted she rubs her behind. She remembers that day. Never told anyone. Who'd believe her?

**********

A city-wide sport's day had been scheduled. All high schools were participating. Diane had been excited. She was the pitcher for her class's softball team. As usual she had a slow start that day. She had never been a good sleeper, or so her parents had told her. She had never quite slept through the night. Many years later, a study showed that her Delta wave, one of the brain's functions, never slowed down during sleep, as it was supposed to. So, she never stopped thinking, rarely reached dream stage.

Over the years she had learned to cope, enjoying directing her own dreams and tolerating three of four hours of sleep per night. Of course, when she was fifteen, who could tell? All teenagers are cranky in the morning, aren't they? All teenagers are slow starters, right? All teenagers sleep through class, don't they?

So, that morning, as soon as she had taken her seat on the bus, she had stuffed her backpack behind her head and dozed off. If she noticed that the bus was unusually quiet, she didn't react. The truth is, everyone on the bus, including the driver was sound asleep. The bus, as all other school buses that morning, continued on to the sport center, obeying all traffic signs and maintaining proper speed. Each bus eased into its assigned place.

Thanks to the one misfiring brain wave, Diane was paralyzed and slightly anesthetized, like her classmates, but not asleep. She thought she heard the rustling of the hazmat suits as two people entered the bus. "Hm, all girls." A female voice was clearly audible over the mechanical whoosh of the rebreather. "Yeah, the motherload, so to speak." A man's voice chuckled. "Yeah, cute." The woman answered, without humor.

Diane thought that one by one, her classmates were taken off the bus and after a while carefully put back in their seat. Each time they came a little closer, each time she told herself that she was dreaming. But then it was Diane's turn.

"They probably should target younger specimens." One voice said with a sigh.

"Nah, they won't be ripe yet." Another voice remarked.

Wait. Wake up! They were gentle when they lifted her off the bus and placed her on a gurney. She wasn't really rolled down a hall and into a room, was she? A bright light burned onto her closed eyelids. Then she felt a small prick in her arm, her shorts and panties were pulled down, her feet placed in stirrups. She kept telling herself to wake up. Yet she felt a strange calmness, as well.

"Bingo! A virgin. Give blood status on, um, 496327584." A deep voice demanded.

An electronic voice answered. "HD - 496327584 is a go."

"Good." The deep voice grunted, sounding a bit preoccupied. Diane felt hands between her legs, something was pushed in. A sharp pain, she grunted. Part of her still wanted to wake up, part of her felt detached.

"Hm?" Movement between her legs stopped. A brief pause. A quick movement, like a shrug and work resumed. A wet plop, another sharp pain. "There! Two beauties." A cool swipe over her left buttock, in the crease where her leg started, pressure, heat. "Next." The deep voice said wearily.

Her clothes were put back in place. As she was rolled out of the room, Diane heard the electronic voice say. "Ten million collected. Operation Harvest is complete."

They returned her to the bus and carefully placed her in her seat; her backpack arranged behind her head. A calmness surrounded her, a feeling of wellbeing, a job well done, visions of a home run. One by one the buses pulled away and following roundabout routes to stretch the time, they all returned safely to the points they had started from that morning.

When her classmates and teachers stumbled off the bus, they were all convinced that they had had a great time. There was much kidding over plays missed, trophies won and jokes made earlier in the day. Though Diane recognized what they were talking about, she had her doubts and rubbed her behind. But when Meg complemented her on her home run, she smiled big and was proud.

As soon as she came home, she twisted and turned and took a selfie of her behind. There! A tattoo: HD - 496327584. So, she hadn't dreamed it. What did it mean? Who were they? Why? What had really happened? Who could she tell? Who would believe her? How could that have happened while she ran a home run?

Diane wanted children. Really, she did. But every time she came close to being intimate with someone, that dream and with it a memory of being invaded, a sense of loss would haunt her. She couldn't explain it, even to herself. So, she remained single and tried to satisfy her need to nurture by being the perfect third grade teacher and honorary aunt to all her fiends' children.

*******

They came for her yesterday, the humanoid guards. Along with three other women she was taken to another town. The trip took all night and then some. She's tired, feels grungy, hungry and bleary-eyed when she's led into a large room. The door closes behind her.

She freezes.

She's alone with several dozen humanoids. They are mingling, chatting, gossiping, drinking coffee and joking with one another. One sees her and nudges the one it had been talking to. Gradually all conversation stops. All stare at her.

One steps forward. "You are HD - 496327584." Dazed she nods. She had memorized that number. "I am 496327584 - Alpha -1. You are our Human Donor. We are the first fifty-two of three-hundred and forty-eight hatched from your donation. You will live and be our servant.

Diane nods again. After all, isn't that what a mother is?