“Sir, we shouldn’t be doing this…” I say with deep concern. “We’ve gotten all the information necessary from the subject to conclude our research. It’s time to let him go home.” “I agree. Let’s get it fed, and later on tonight, I will personally make sure General Howard permits the subject to leave Earth with a flight path at our discretion.” I nod. “Excellent Sir! I’ll take the subject to his room and get him prepped for tonight.” Dr. Blaine Smirks. He heads to the retinal scanner, leans forward, and the door opens. Before he exits, Dr. Blaine turns around and stares at IAN. “Subject X. It was a real pleasure. Thank you for your cooperation. Give my best to your home world.” IAN nods. It's a hollow gesture. I know neither of them enjoyed the other's company. IAN was respectful towards Dr. Blaine because I treated him as an equal, one being to another from two different worlds. The rest of our team provides blunt responses, unloving attitude, and wants IAN to speak when spoken to. They want simple explanations to complex questions and have no time for the substance in which those answers originate. Once Dr. Blaine exits the room, a cloud of uncertainty fills the gap between us and them.
As we enter the elevator on Level 3, the steel doors close, and I press the button for IAN’s room. We descend to Level 5, and he lays a hand on my shoulder. IAN has the ability to communicate telepathically with his species, but with humans, physical touch is required. “Miles, I must ask a favor of you.” “It’d be my pleasure IAN.” We nod to one another and then removes his hand. A few minutes later, the steel doors retract, and we step into his living quarters together for the last time. It’s a bittersweet moment; I can’t help but feel a warmth spread throughout my body, knowing IAN will be able to go home and be with his loved ones. 12 months since he crash landed, the sole survivor was taken to our base of operations. The director wanted to collect all of his crew along with his spaceship, but IAN told me he executed a program to self-destruct the remains of their vehicle. The advancement of their technology is far beyond many species throughout the Milky Way Galaxy. His people have fought many wars with planets and species with far greater capacities, but their kind prevailed through whatever methods necessary.
There were nights when IAN and I talked about our families, favorite foods, movies, books, hobbies, and the history of our species. I stocked his living quarters with random snacks like Oreos, Cheetos, Doritos, and Twinkies. Oreos are his favorite Earth snack, especially with a tall glass of milk. I brought down some BluRay Discs and each week, I’d give him a few new movies and a couple of books to read so we could talk about human creativity, the depths of our religion and culture, what we believe is the soul, and the meaning of life. We discussed his home, Xeno, and he would draw these incredibly meticulous pictures. It was like watching Michaelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, except it took four years of effort with the help of associates. On his own, IAN took four hours to create his masterpiece. He’d always try to give them to me as a gift, but I could never accept them without feeling like I’d be taking a piece of him of his home world, his identity. This world and our team had already taken enough from him. We’d taken more than we’d given, a common and primitive flaw in human nature.
Today, I am relieved. The closer we get to midnight, the more the burden of guilt and shame dissipates. In this line of work, there isn’t praise or a reward for our achievements. We harbor secrets and use the information we gather to manipulate and expand the gap between us and our good intentions. Becoming a cog in this dysfunctional program toward furthering the human race by whatever means necessary is a grueling and unforgiving process. There is no rest for the wicked; this program is a testament to that. Over the past four years, we’ve dissected humans mentally and physically, studying their capabilities and inner workings of geniuses, some with strange abilities like Remote Viewing and hyper-photographic memory. Indifference is the key, the ability to separate what a good conscience cannot. The vetting process is ruthless, practically geared to recruit people with psychopathic tendencies, but usually sociopaths suffice.
Director Charles Stone was responsible for vetting our entire team for the program. Dr. Blaine is our lead scientist; Cameron, our mechanical engineer; Sherlock, our technology expert; Graves, our weapon specialist; General, our military specialist; and yours truly, Frost, the Psychology and Communications expert. Director Stone brought me in to evaluate the cognitive side of IAN and construct a language, some kind of channel for us to interact on a basic level. Besides my expertise, my lack of intimate connections to the outside world made me a prime candidate for containing the spread of information and an easy thread to cut if I became uncooperative. None of us know each other’s real names; our relationships are surface-level and barred from any form of contact outside Level 3. All shift changes throughout the week. We never clock in to work at the same time. Director Stone is the first to arrive and the last to leave.
Our base of operations changes annually, but there have been times when relocation lasted a mere six months, a nomadic existence with zero interactions with the outside world. Fortunately, we are human, and isolation is detrimental to our psyche; one of the few reasons they give us pets and Ezra, an intelligent AI system for companionship. When accepted into the program, I chose a dog, an Australian shepherd, and named him Lex. He’s been part of my life since he was a puppy, turning three years old on December 29th. The daily interactions with Ezra and the team keep me driven and motivated, but Lex gives me purpose and a family to protect. In a short period, IAN became part of that family. The others have seen how close we’ve gotten over the last few months, and a report was filed against me. The Director called me into his office a couple of weeks ago to assess whether or not my relationship with “Subject X” is a liability to the results of our research.
Before our meeting ended on my first day, Director Stone told me, “Loose lips are most likely to sink a ship when its passengers get too familiar with one another and its surroundings. As the incentives increase and the value of loyalty diminishes, one’s participation in self-deprivation becomes irrational. Subordination is no longer respected, the ideology repulsive, and the shackles tethered to masters begin to rust, shattering unbreakable bonds into dust.” After my extensive evaluation with a few of his lackeys, he repeated them as if I had forgotten. I can’t blame the guy for being presumptuous, but I can blame him for being an asshole. His perspective is either this or that, black or white. The Director is not much of a sympathizer. It’s aggravating, but effective.
As the clock strikes midnight, IAN and I have eaten all the junk food, talking about the latest book he finished, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho, and watching his favorite movie, “Dogma,” written and directed by Kevin Smith. “Alright, IAN, Dr. Blaine will be arriving shortly. I just wanted to say thank you. We are all in your debt.” IAN lays a hand on my shoulder. “No, I have you to thank. Your acceptance has allowed me to see you humans in a different light. When I return home, I will tell my species of the kindness and respect you have bestowed upon me.” I smile and lean in to hug IAN. The door to IAN’s room slides open, and Dr. Blaine walks in with his usual pompous demeanor. “Miles, it's time to say your goodbyes. IAN, I’d like you to follow me to the hangar. We’ve prepped your ship to the best of our ability.”
IAN walks around the room after Dr. Blaine leaves and begins to take some mementos before his departure. He grabs a few books and a bag of Cheetos, then takes a couple of photos off the wall, tucking them into his spacesuit. IAN places all his belongings in a military duffel bag and heads for the door. Before exiting, he turns and takes one last look at the quarters he’s been living in and smiles at Miles. IAN nods and walks out, leaving Miles with fond memories and a new breath of life.
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