1

Copyright © 2019 by Misty Cooper All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2019 ISBN 9781078491075

1 It was midday, but I could see the moon above my head in the light blue sky, and I wasn't exactly sure why that was. Something foul was riding in the air; a mixture of chemicals and hot electronics. It could have been anything really. God only knew what they were doing up there. I tried not to think about it. Something that sounded like a spinning drill filled the air. It made my mind run wild. “Hope it ends soon.” Lamb whispered to me, and I couldn't have agreed with him more. But I wasn't about to second it. They were likely watching us, and I wasn't about to get on their bad side. In fact, I wouldn't even make eye contact with them. It was possible that I would turn to stone if I did. I stared down at my shiny black shoes. For a minute more the drill whorled, and then it came to a screeching halt. I could here someone moaning from within the metal dome behind me, and for a moment, I became nauseous. I started to gag, and I came close to puking. Deeply I breathed and tried to get it under control. “Don't you dare get sick on me!” Lamb whispered through grit teeth, and he gave me a wide 2 eyed stare. “Before you know it, they will be coming down here.” He was right. At any moment one of them could come slinking down to us. They knew everything that was going on, and that is because they kept their eye on everything. They didn't even have to be anywhere near us; they just knew what we were doing. I slowly began to gain my composure, and I straightened out my back and leaned against the dome. Within minutes they came scurrying down the ramp, dragging Patrick with them. I could see by looking at the side of Patrick's head that they had drilled into it. A small amount of blood could be observed trickling down from the circular wound. Man, they are really screwing him up good I thought, as I looked at the snowed expression that painted Patrick's face. His eyes were lifeless and void of awareness. The back of his pants were soiled with his own feces. And yet he wore an amused smile on his face, as if he were watching a magic trick. With a forceful shove, they passed Patrick over to Lamb and I, and without a word, they turned and shuffled back into the dome, locking themselves inside of it. Instantly we sprung into our routine, and as quickly and discreetly as we could, we dragged Patrick away from the dome, and into the building about 40 feet away. Just as we had done many times before, we brought Patrick into the shower, and stripping off his clothes, we placed him inside of it. As he held the shower bars we scrubbed him up and hosed him down, like he was a dog being bathed. He was cooperative but completely useless in aiding the process. We put him in a thousand dollar suit and we groomed him, cleaning off the blood that had dried around the drill hole, and hiding the wound with his wavy blonde hair. Once he was his presentable self, we brought him into the sitting room, where he sat for awhile in silence until the programming process began. There was nothing more horrifying to watch than the programming process, which consisted of convulsions, garbled speech, erratic movements and body contortions. The process could go on anywhere from three to thirty minutes, depending on the update that had been installed. As Patrick's chip began to take on the new information, he stiffened in his chair, and his eyes rolled up. He initially mumbled something I couldn't make out, and then started to blurt out random words and partial sentences with a fluctuating pitch. “Protection.....Pro...Protection of its citizens...Global....United...One...Economy...” After the programming completed, Patrick lowered his head and shut his eyes, sitting motionless for several seconds. Then, as if nothing had happened to him at all, he slowly stood from his chair, alert and awake, wearing his infamous smile and standing as tall as a sunflower. “Patrick, are you alright?” I asked him, and slowly I took a step back. “Yes. I am feeling fine. I am able to go on the air.” he answered loud and clear. I was always amazed by how fast Patrick seemed to bounce back after the programming, seizing and jerking one minute, and ready to go face the nation the next. He would give flawless influential speeches just hours after updates without so much as a lingering twitch. There were no visible signs of what had happened, and no one else watching suspected a thing. The aliens stayed secret, fronting their illusion of a human figure head to the masses. It was easy for them because of their technology, technology I couldn't even dream of before I got involved. They could fly down and perform the update, and then take off in their dome when it was over. And they could control Patrick from their control station, by way of his implant. And what never made any sense to me was how Patrick could agree to such a thing, regardless of his hunger for power. Although he was the stereotypical politician, always looking to gain more control and notoriety, the lengths he went to in order to achieve his position were hideous. I couldn't help but wonder how he could bare it. There was a massive crowd gathered behind a long row of cameras and microphones, anxiously 3 awaiting Patrick's entrance. As he stepped out into the bright lights, applause for him filled the air. With a Hollywood smile he waved, flashing his gleaming white teeth. As he walked to the podium, he held both of his hands up, palms facing the crowd, fingers spread, just like he sometimes did during the programming process. Reaching the podium, he thanked the audience, and holding up his hand, he silenced the crowd, which faded out with a few straggling clappers. Just as planned, he began his speech with a dramatic intro, and he carried his message with conviction and enthusiasm. The cadence of his voice made the room dead silent, and it made the people listening hang on his every word. All the anticipated applause happened like clockwork, and at certain times, the majority of the crowd rose from their seats in standing ovation. It was simply amazing; they did not have to chip everyone to control the world, they only needed to chip Patrick, who would in turn, control everyone else. And some of what they wanted was clear to me. They definitely wanted control of the entire planet, and in order to get it, they needed globalization. That is why they programmed Patrick to constantly advocate for foreign aid and intervention, selling charity to other societies as a moral obligation. He would proclaim his people's support for other societies in an altruistic fashion, and was always met with wild approval from those around him. Without question, people payed their taxes, which was their first step toward complacency with global responsibility, a concept that Patrick was instilling in the minds of millions. It was a slow and grueling process, as manipulation may be needed for centuries to bring about global uniformity. But once uniformity was achieved, the invasion would be that much easier. Mirrored cultures, technology, and perhaps most importantly, mentality, would make the take over straight forward and simplistic, reducing the complications presented by diversity. It would be one way of thinking, living, and behaving, which would, of course, fall in line with the desires of the dome dwellers. What would they do once the invasion was complete? I wasn't quite sure. They could have planned to inhabit the planet, to drain it of its resources, or to take control of it, bringing it in line with a cosmic power. Whatever they intended to do with it, they were using Patrick to make it happen. I looked over out of the corner of my eye at Lamb, who was standing next to me behind the podium. His expression was frozen into a serious stare, and his hands were clenched down by his crotch in front of him. He resembled a stone statue, absent of any emotion. I couldn't help but wonder if he had to stop himself from cringing at certain parts of Patrick's speeches the way I sometimes had to, knowing full well that Patrick was being controlled by alien forces. It didn't matter what Patrick said, the people ate it up. He could announce that he was raising their taxes, confiscating their weapons, or spying on them individually, and while there was still the minority that took issue with their shrinking freedom, they were docile and nonthreatening. The most they could do was complain and march around holding up their ridiculous signs, which would get them no where. They had been fooled into thinking they could make a difference by taking a stand, when the sad truth was that humans were far to self absorbed. They really only cared about the issues that resonated with them, none of which when considered collectively, equated to the ultimate good of everything. It seemed that there was no way to stop the dome people from doing what they were doing. The few humans that were aware of their existence were petrified of them. The Dome people were able to levitate objects, fly at super speeds inside dome saucers, and control the minds of Earth's people. It was clear that they were superior to humans in many ways. They were hideous looking creatures, with mushroomed transparent, gray heads that resembled sick jellyfish. Their eyes were stone black, and their bodies were long and lanky, stretched out like dough before it is knotted into a pretzel. Their heights varied, and they could be anywhere from 5 feet 4 tall to 9 feet tall, which may have been determined by their age, as the taller aliens seemed to appear more wrinkled and weathered. And the odd thing about the dome creatures was that while it appeared that they could force humans to do their bidding by using mind control and fear, they were all about agreements and deals. They could have continually abducted Patrick for programming, but instead they got him to volunteer for it in exchange for his position as “the most powerful human alive”. They used Patrick's program to persuade the people, instead of just controlling everyone's mind. I wondered if consent was a moral value that they held, or if, despite their impressive capabilities, signified their deficiencies. Maybe they did not possess the ability to carry out an aggressive take over, and instead of resorting to force, resorted to cooperation and illusion. Toward the closing of Patrick's speech, a nerve inside my eye began to twitch, and I felt slightly light headed. Patrick had done a great job of convincing his listeners that he was looking out for them, and that the new security measures were put in place to protect them. He encouraged them to look to the government for protection instead of trying to protect themselves. He gave them the green light to be dependent on it for their self sustainability and self preservation. He dis-empowered them under the guise of institutional obligations to their people, all the while wearing a smile on his face. An enormous applause filled the open room and bounced off of the walls. Quickly Patrick turned his back to the crowd and exited the stage. Lamb and I followed close behind him, making our way up a flight of stairs to the recuperation suite. Once inside the suite we shut and locked the door. Patrick walked over and collapsed on the couch that was in front of him, exhausted from giving the speech. Lamb and I walked up on him slowly, as not to spook him. After a speech Patrick was the most disoriented and fatigued. Whatever the computer inside of him had to do when he gave speeches seemed to really wipe him out. I could hear a fan running from inside Patrick's skull that cooled down the computer they had installed there. And that is when Lamb and I just waited, as there was not much that could be done with Patrick at that point. He needed to go through his ritual of twitching and jerking around like a fish being reeled in. The computer needed to be cooled down, and it needed to be placed in a hibernation mode for several hours. There was no avoiding the post speech crashes, and that was why it was so important to get Patrick away from the crowd as quickly as possible. We did not want to repeat the night that the hideous aliens came down in the dome because we were taking to long to bring Patrick to the observation room. I had never been so scared in my life. As I watched Patrick flounder I wished so badly that I could be like the rest of the unsuspecting cattle of the world. I thought I wanted to work for the government, but that was when I thought that the government was run by people. I assumed that secrets would be revealed to me when I took my job as a shadow agent, but never did I think that the truth would be so hideous and terrifying. The good money was not nearly worth the price of knowing. And other than Lamb and I, there was no one who had contact with the aliens, nor did they ever see them. The dome people were the worlds biggest secret, and only a handful of secret agents had seen them. There was a rule that only two humans at a time could interact with them other than Patrick. It wouldn't be until one of us died that we would be replaced, which was estimated to be a short period of time. All of the agents before us died of heart attacks due to the monumental stress they were under from having to be petrified of the aliens day in and day out. Knowing that they could arrive at any moment was enough to induce cardiac arrest. It was dreadful to look upon their faces, and to have to speak with them. I always tried to look away from them, and I noticed that Lamb couldn't help but do the same. 5

That night we had done well, and we managed to get Patrick away in time. None of the dome dwellers came down angry, which was always a huge relief. Life was better and safer when the aliens were happy. In the long run, however, that was not the case. At some point all of mankind would be enslaved by the aliens if their plan worked, and we were helping them to carry it out. At times I felt like I should do something to stop the aliens from succeeding, but I had no clue where to begin. I was also terrified of them. We allowed Patrick some time, and then we moved him from the couch into the bed. He slept like he was in a coma, and we knew he would remain that way for the next several hours. Lamb gave me his usual nod to signal that our work was finished for the moment. “Let's retire now.” he remarked, and he walked out of the room to go to his quarters. Before exiting to go to my room, I turned and looked at Patrick before I shut the door. He appeared to be in a deep slumber, and secure in his bed. The lids of his eyes were a subtle violet and they appeared to be slightly swollen, a usual symptom of post speech trauma. Staring at him I asked myself what exactly I was looking at. Was Patrick even human anymore, or was he a machine? Some of him was a computer. A pie shaped section of his frontal lobe had a chip embedded in it, and the chip was wired to his vocal box, as well as some of the nerves in his face. There were wires running all through his head. While Patrick still controlled certain parts of his brain, other parts were controlled by the computer. The computer was able to take control of his speech and his emotions, ensuring that he always said things that were influential and on point. Never did he speak out of turn, or sound awkward. His voice was always clear and confident, and he never mumbled or stuttered. His short term memory bank had been replaced by the cloud, which made it so he could never be wrong. His brain had a search engine that would feed him information to verbalize to others. This feature allowed Patrick to appear as if he were the smartest man alive. Some magazines had gone as far as to call him such. But I knew the truth; it was the work of the world wide web. I locked the door and shut it gently, even though in reality, I could have slammed it shut and Patrick wouldn't even have flinched. I walked down the hallway a few feet toward my room. Two armed guards stood at the beginning of the hallway, and they waved silently to me. I returned the wave and then slipped into my quarters. Chances were that Lamb was already sleeping. I always felt like he got more rest than me. Often he handled things better than I did. While I knew the depressing truth was morbid and frightening to him, he didn't allow it to reek havoc in him. He was better at disassociating from the whole thing than I was, and I envied him for it. As I laid down to sleep, my mind ran wild like it always did. I wondered if the dome dwellers were aware of what I was thinking. It didn't matter whether or not they were, as I couldn't help it. I wondered when they would feel that they had brought about enough uniformity to take over, and I wondered how they would accomplish it. Would they change their preference for cooperation and negotiation once they were ready to claim the planet? Would I be alive to see it? Did I want to be? I had no way to know. And when my mind pondered the universe beyond Earth, I wondered where they went when they shot up in their domes and disappeared. Did they hang out in the dome in space? Were they far from their home? Where did they come from, and why were they so much more advanced than us? Why were they so terrifying and hideously ugly? I had to scream at my brain to stop. After an hour of lying down, I finally started dozing off. But I hovered in between a place of consciousness and the dream world. My body was exhausted but my mind was wired and alive. The only rest I thought I was likely to get was a nightmare about a dome dweller invasion. I waited for the terror of the horrid dream to commence, but instead I was greeted by a real life nightmare. 6

Jolting me out of bed was a piercing siren and flashing red lights. I fell to the floor in terror, thinking that the aliens had come to terrorize me. After several seconds, I realized that the fire alarm was going off, and quickly I crawled out from between the bed and the wall. Springing up I went to the door, and I planned to ensure that Patrick was safe. When I opened the door, the whole hallway was filled with smoke, and I couldn't see. Quickly shutting the door, I made my way over to the window and opened it, letting the smoke out that had made it's way in. Hunched over I gasped for the fresh air, and my thoughts scrambled as I tried to figure out what to do. I had to get to Patrick, but I was trapped inside of my room.

2 I looked outside of my window, and I knew that I was going to have to go out it in order to reach Patrick. There was no way I was going to get through the dark hall of smoke outside of the door. Frantically I looked out of the window for an easy way down, but there was no easy way that I could see. There was no fire ladder or escape, and there were no lower roofs for me to jump on. Just as I was falling into despair, I felt a cool burst come over me. The sprinkler system kicked on, and it sprayed down all over everything. After waiting several seconds, I opened the door to the hallway, and I could see that Lamb and the other 2 guards were opening doors and windows to air out the smoke from the hall. “Where is Patrick?” I asked Lamb, and I turned my attention to Patrick's shut door. “Patrick is okay.”he assured me. “He was closed in his room behind the fire door.” I sucked in a breath of relief. I couldn't bare the thought of something happening to Patrick. I assumed the dome people would probably kill us if he was harmed in any way. “What the hell happened here?” I asked, and Lamb did not answer me until most of the smoke had cleared out. He came up to me with a worried frown. He hesitated before speaking, and then he whispered angrily. “You're not going to believe this. Agent Clement over here thought it would be a good idea to make popcorn in the middle of the night, and the microwave just so happened to have a short in it.” I shook my head in disbelief. I wanted to rip the face off of Agent Clement. His stupidity was the type of act that resulted in a visit from the dome dwellers. Of course the fool triggered their anger. He was careless and stupid. He didn't have to deal with them, so he felt no need to exercise caution. He had no idea how hideous they were, as he never had to look upon one of them. Clement kept apologizing, but Lamb and I were quiet. We knew that the dome dwellers saw what had happened, and we feared them coming down because of it. Clement finally stopped saying 7 sorry, and he exited the suite as ordered. Confident that all the smoke had cleared, Lamb and I went into Patrick's room. He was still lying there sleeping right where we had left him. “How could that kid be so stupid?” I hissed, as I felt a knot forming in my stomach. My heart began to exhilarate. Lamb sat silently, staring at the floor as if he was trying to formulate what we should do next. I watched him intently, desperately wanting him to give me our next plan of action. I had come to rely on Lamb in how to approach and plan for almost every aspect of our work. He was the problem solver and the prevention. He made sure that Patrick was in a fire proof room with no sprinklers. The last thing on Earth we wanted was to have Patrick's computer short out. The dome dwellers would be enraged if any of their equipment was damaged. Part of the agreement was to keep the computer unharmed, and it stated that if it was damaged in any way, there would be a penalty imposed. We were not aware of what the penalty was, but we didn't want to find out. After a moment of silent reflection I turned to Lamb. “Thank God he wasn't damaged. What the hell happened with that microwave,and what took the sprinklers so long to kick on?” I asked in disbelief. Lamb wore a scowl of worry. He didn't answer my question. “They will be coming down here.” he remarked. I realized that Lamb was far too worried about the dome dwellers to take charge like he usually did, which caused me to become more panicked than I already was. And I knew he had a good reason to be extremely worried, as never had the computer been put at so much risk before. Leaving Patrick's room, I made my way into the little kitchen down the hall. There I found the soot covered microwave with the door wide open, and on the floor in front of it, was a chard up bag of popcorn that had been stomped into a flat sheet. I felt acid come up in my throat as I stared at the charcoal mess. This incident was the end of Agent Clements career, and I did not feel bad. I only wished that he was the one who would have to deal with the aliens. It was Lamb and I that would suffer for his carelessness. We both braced ourselves for something terrifying. Grabbing a broom and dust pan from the corner, I cleaned up the floor. With a large pail of soapy water and a scrubbing sponge, I began to clean the soot from the walls. I tried my best to stay calm, but my entire body was trembling with fear. In my mind I could see a hideous dome alien, with it's elongated face and it's deeply hollowed cheeks. I shuttered thinking about the black void of it's eyes, and it's bulbous, flowering head. I only wished that I wouldn't have to see it again. I managed to clean up the mess, and I went back to Patrick's room to meet Lamb. Lamb stood over Patrick starring at him as he slept. Slowly I walked up beside Lamb and joined him in viewing Patrick. For a moment we were silent as we watched him breathe, both of us shaking where we stood. The anticipation of encountering the dome aliens was creating tension that I couldn't bare. Every second of silence amplified my uneasiness, and while I knew Lamb didn't want to talk, I filled the silence by rambling. For some reason it made me feel better, and selfishly I ignored Lamb's desire for petrified silence. “I think we did the best we could given the circumstances. I mean we took precautions that kept Patrick safe, right? Maybe they will appreciate that. I mean it could have been so much worse, right?” Lamb ignored me and just stared straight ahead. He waited for the aliens in silence. The pressure was on him too, but he wasn't the type to talk his way through it. He was a quiet thinker and he didn't speak until he had mulled things over. It wasn't until I had been standing there with him for nearly an hour that he said anything at all. “They are here!” he exclaimed, jumping back against the wall with a hard thud. 8

Immediately I looked up from Patrick's face, and standing in front of me was a large dome alien who was staring at us with wild wide eyes and a frowning mouth. Startled I flew back, joining Lamb against the wall. Side by side we stood with our chests heaving in terror, waiting to see what the alien was going to do. I avoided eye contact with the alien because it was to terrifying to look it in the eyes. I focused on the it's lower forehead where a horizontal crease ran across. Lamb went to no special effort to fake eye contact. Once he realized that the dome dweller had come, he stared down at his shoes. He looked up minimally, and only when he absolutely thought that it was necessary. He didn't look the dome dweller in the eye when he did. Gurgling and churning sounds could be heard coming from the dome aliens head, as was typical. It seemed like they digested in their heads instead of in their stomachs, or that they had something moving around under their skin. The odd feature was disturbing and terrifying, even though I didn't understand what it was. When I focused on the ridge of the alien's forehead, I tried not to look up on it's head too much. Seeing the movement made me sick. The alien slithered quickly forward at Lamb and I, filling us with terror. I felt a warm stream of urine running down my leg as I pinned myself to the wall. I looked away from the dome dweller, and prayed that my heart didn't explode. It stared us down for a moment, then turned away and slithered over to where Patrick was. It began looking him over for any signs of injury or damage. It held a wand type device in it's hands, and it waved it over Patrick like it was some type of sensor. We could only hope that it didn't find anything wrong. After several minutes the alien turned and slithered down the hallway to the kitchen, where we could hear it messing around with the microwave. I looked over at Lamb, petrified that the alien would be upset that the microwave had shorted. Lamb was too busy staring wide eyed down at the floor, and he did not look at me. The alien could be heard moving back down the hallway toward us, and I felt myself loosing consciousness. I started to get wobbly on my feet, and I was about to pass out until Lamb grabbed the back of me and hoisted me up. “Oh no! You are not going to pass out on me. You are in this with me!” he whispered angrily. His grip on me loosened and then released as the alien entered Patrick's room again. We pinned each other in the corner as we tried to get as far from the alien as we could. Several times we stepped on each others feet, and scratched each other. Looking at the aliens chest, I could see that it was carrying the microwave, which caused me to immediately assume that it was upset that it had shorted. I began to shake uncontrollably. I had no idea what it would do. For a moment I thought it might throw the microwave at us, and I curled into a ball in the corner, trying to get behind Lamb's legs. But the alien did not throw the microwave. Instead it stood before us, gurgling and growling from it's moving head. It waited until it was sucked up by a violet beam of light, disappearing into thin air, and taking the microwave with it. I collapsed to the ground when I saw that the dome dweller had left. Tears of relief ran down my face. From side to side I rocked to release the tension that the alien had filled within me. “Thank God you thought of everything Lamb!” I exclaimed, as I laid on the floor clutching my chest. I looked up at Lamb smiling. Lamb took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow, still shaking from having seen the alien. Seeing him shake caused me to start shaking again. Lamb was rarely vulnerable, so when I saw him afraid, it made me feel considerably weak. I waited silently for Lamb to give some orders, giving him a moment to get himself together. 9

We were both in shock and we were floundering momentarily in the post trauma. Finally he managed to give some direction. “Clean up.” he ordered of me, and he pointed to the puddle of pee on the floor. So traumatic was the encounter that I had forgotten that I had pissed myself. I immediately turned to fetch the mop and bucket. While I cleaned up, Lamb went out to deal with Agent Clements. Once a place of homeostasis was reached, we stopped our post encounter repair work, and we settled in for the night. I couldn't rest after seeing one of the aliens, and my heart was still beating fast even though it had left hours ago. As I laid in bed I wondered why it took the microwave. I didn't feel as though it would have taken it to ensure that we wouldn't use it again. It had to have known we weren't dumb enough to do that. While I was eager to get in my own bed, Lamb insisted that he sleep in a chair next to Patrick. The whole incident had left him super vigilant, and he became more protective than ever. I could tell that like me, he was fearing for his life. And while I felt bad that Lamb would spend all night sleeping in a chair next to Patrick, I was happy that Patrick was being so well guarded. It seemed like I had only been able to close my eyes for a second and the morning had come. I dragged myself up, feeling utterly exhausted. I showered and dressed quickly, and then I made my way to Patrick's room. Lamb was sitting next to Patrick, alert and awake but with the energy of a dead battery. I could tell that he was tired from being up most of the night. Deep bags hung down from under his puffy eyes. “I might need you to take a shift so I can get a little rest.” he remarked, and I nodded my head in agreement. We sat silent in the hang over from the night's terrors, waiting for Patrick's computer to reboot, and for him to awaken. The faint sounds of moving hardware began to sound from inside his skull, signaling to us that he would soon be opening his eyes. As I studied Patrick's face, I saw his muscles pulsing under his skin as the energy began to flow to them through the wires that were attached. Suddenly, his eyes sprung open, and he looked around initially confused while the program loaded. But once the program loaded, he became aware of who he was and what he was doing. His expression morphed from distraught to confident, like a switch had been flicked. Every time I watched Patrick go from ignorant to knowing, I couldn't help but wonder how much of the old him there was left. What of him remained in the absence of the computer? His whole political and public image was an illusion based on the capabilities of the program installed in his brain. The program made him to good to be true, but it had everyone believing that he was nearly perfect. Opening and closing his mouth, he stretched his jaw, as if he were loosening his face muscles before starting his day. His eyes moved across the room slowly, from left to right, and then right to left. He breathed in deeply three times, and then he looked at Lamb and I and smiled a huge smile. “Good morning Conway, Lamb.” he greeted us cheerily, and we returned the greeting with faint tired voices. “I am ready to prepare for my speaking engagements.” he continued, and he sat up and quickly exited the bed. Bustling around Patrick began to select and lay out his clothes. Lamb and I rose lethargically, knowing we had to assist him. Patrick had to look perfect, and we were responsible for making sure that happened. If anything was out of place, we could expect a visit from the dome dwellers. While Lamb was practically dead on his feet, he knew he had to stick it out until at least Patrick's hair was styled. Hiding the drill mark in the side of Patrick's head was extremely important. We couldn't let the public see it. Lamb was the master of styling Patrick's hair, and then cementing it in place with hairspray. Once Patrick was completely ready to face the world again, Lamb turned to me and gave the 10 nod. He went to his room to retire for the next few hours while we waited for Patrick's appearance on the afternoon talk show, PM Coffee. It was easy to see that Lamb had suffered from the encounter. His nerves were frazzled and he looked on edge. I hoped that some rest would restore him back to his reserved self. While Lamb rested, I sat in front of the vanity with Patrick, who practiced his smiles and waves. He also tested some of the recently installed language programs, speaking blurbs of Spanish, French, and Italian. Everyone thought that Patrick was able to speak twelve different languages, which added to the belief that he was the smartest person on the planet. The claim was that Patrick picked these languages up when he traveled the world. A half an hour before we had to go on air, Lamb joined Patrick and I in front of the vanity. He looked better rested, and he was no longer sweaty. I was relieved to see him looking and acting more like his old self again. Lamb and I scanned him to ensure that nothing was out of place. We used the large powder sponge to apply his finishing touches, and we prayed that his hair would stay put. Another coat of hairspray was applied for good measure, and a bright blue and yellow tie replaced the red one that he was wearing. We were always on edge the first few times Patrick did talk shows after having been updated. It wasn't the same as when he did speeches because speeches were completely programmed. On talk shows Patrick was somewhat free thinking, and the brain and the computer took turns being in control. The switching of control had not always gone as planned, and a few times Patrick jerked suddenly, or lost his balance momentarily. When this happened it caused people to take notice, and it flooded the tabloids the very next day. Speculation as to why these things had happen was broad and plentiful. Patrick was so regularly flawless that anything imperfect he did was highly publicized. “On in five minutes” someone yelled, and I swallowed hard as the live time came closer. Lamb watched Patrick's face for any erratic twitching, and he had him walk a straight line up and down to check his balance. The computer and brain appeared to be switching back and forth with no issue. We could only hoped it stayed that way. 11

3 The audience was particularly lively, and Patrick was met with loud cheers and thunderous applause. Several people were crying. Patrick crossed the stage with his gleaming smile and firmly shook the hand of Ben Banks. Lamb and I watched closely from the side lines. Once the two men were seated, Ben started by asking “So, I know the last time I had you on, I asked you this question, and you laughed it off. But seeing how you're here, let me ask it again. How the hell are you so smart and perfect?” The audience responded with claps and hoots. Patrick smiled humbly and shook his head. I wondered if it was his brain, or if it was a command from the program that caused him to do it. Whatever caused it, it appeared genuine. “I have much to learn.” Patrick simply stated, and several women could be heard screaming at his words from the back of the studio. While Patrick seemed genuine to the audience and the viewers at home, it was the work of his programming that elicited their beliefs. A program installed in Patrick's computer was a database that matched symbols, images and text to relevant dialogue, which then was translated into word commands that he would verbalize. Through the scanners in his eyes, he was able to see that one of the women had a pin on her jacket that said “Be Humble”, which the program linked to his response. But as fascinating as Patrick's language programs were, I was not focused on his words. I studied his face and his body, watching for any glitch or unintended movement. I cased his shoulders and his limbs, looking for jumping muscles. I made sure that his hair continued to cover the drill hole, and that he wasn't tipsy when he walked. Lamb was responsible for ensuring that Patrick's speech program wasn't malfunctioning, so he paid attention to everything Patrick said. Should Patrick begin to speak nonsense, curse, go mute, or fail to maintain appropriate tone, Lamb was to get him off of the stage right away. Never did Patrick glitch in front of the crowd, but it was quite possible that he could. The interview dragged on, and I could feel the eyes of the dome dwellers burning into the back of my head as it did. Everything from Patrick's love life to his dog was covered. All of Patrick's responses were the computation of the program. Nothing he said was genuine or real. I prayed that soon they would cut to a commercial so Patrick could gain a second to pause. I was petrified that something was going to go wrong at any moment. Ben was a comedian, who constantly told jokes. His audience was loud and boisterous. It was the harmonics of a lively audience that the aliens warned us could caused for malfunctions in Patrick's programming. Every muscle in my body tensed each time people whistled or yelled, but thankfully for me, Patrick did not twitch or flinch. Finally Ben announced “And now it is time for a short break.” I sighed in relief as I looked forward to the pause, but there wasn't one. Right after Ben made the statement, he sprung up from his chair, made a fist with his right hand, and punched Patrick square in the nose. Lamb and I jumped up and flew forward in horror as we watched Patrick fly back over the couch he was seated on. We used our bodies to block him from all of the cameras and helped him to his feet. Immediately we escorted him off the stage and toward a private room. 12

An army of agents swarmed in and tackled Ben as we did, taking him down to the ground. The audience was going wild, screaming and yelling in shear shock and confusion. The show's security joined the secret service, and the audience was hoisted up and herded out like cows. But it wasn't just the audience who was bewildered and confused. Everyone was, as no one would have ever seen it coming. There was no warning that Ben was going to punch Patrick, and there appeared to be no motive. Patrick had gone on the show twice before, and there was never such an incident. Thankfully, all eyes were on Ben. Slamming the door behind him, Lamb locked us inside the tiny room. We sat Patrick down in a chair, and he held a cotton handkerchief up to his face to try to stop the bleeding. Lamb tried to stay calm as he spoke to Patrick, but I could tell that he was starting to panic. “Patrick.” he began, his voice cracking “Move the cloth so I can see what has happened to your nose.” Slowly Patrick pulled the cloth away from his face, and a swollen and bleeding nose laid underneath it. No wires were visible and there did not appear to be any damage to the hardware, although it was hard to know for sure. But all would be revealed in good time, for there was no stopping the dome dwellers from coming. I wondered if one of them would actually be able to fit inside of the tiny room with us. I hoped that they would be to large, as being that close to a dome alien would likely give me a heart attack. A bright beam of violent light came down and engulfed Patrick. He began to lift up, and slowly the image of him faded more and more until he was gone. I felt hopeful; that perhaps the aliens would just examine Patrick in their ship, and then send him back when they were done. But Lamb and I wouldn't be so lucky. An alien came down and took his place, appearing before us suddenly. Immediately Lamb and I were wedged into the corner, petrified of the alien's potential wrath. We both looked away with our eyes jammed shut, and prayed that the alien wouldn't kill us. We had no way of knowing how hostile the creature would become. We waited to be electrocuted, burned with a laser, or to have our heads explode from some destructive frequency. Our hearts were in our throats as the alien slithered a few inches closer, towering over us with it's menacing height. In shear terror we were trapped in it's shadow. I covered my eyes with my trembling hands, as if obstructing my vision were allowing me to escape somehow. My knees knocked together. All I could think to myself was that it was the end for me. I thought for sure that I was going to be killed by the alien. But after several seconds of nothing happening, it occurred to me that Lamb and I appeared to not be dying, at least not instantly. Between the spaces of my fingers I could see that the alien was still standing there, mostly still. It did not make any type of gestures or angry motions. It just stood looking at Patrick and I, blinking. Slowly I allowed my fingers to spread farther apart, allowing me more of a view. I could see that the alien was not wearing the usual wide eyed expression of terror that the aliens always wore. It's eyes were smaller, and it's face was more relaxed. I also noticed that it's head was not moving constantly like their heads usually did. It was calm, and did not appear to roll or move at all. I felt like I could look directly into the face of the alien without having a heart attack. It was not as terrifying as the others for some reason. Taking my hands off of my face, I looked at the alien, who continued to stare at us without moving. I looked over at Lamb, who was still huddled up into a knot of fright behind me. “Lamb.” I called to him, putting my hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Immediately he looked up at me, and I pointed to the alien. Reluctantly he looked over at it, and once he saw that it was not as terrifying as usual, he began to unfold from his protective ball. He straightened out and stood next to me. We were under the impression that the alien must have some 13 kind of message for us, and we stood waiting for it in great suspense. We expected it to be a written message, as the aliens always communicated with us in writing. It seemed that they were not equip to vocalize in the way that humans did, but that they understood our written language. It was not clear to us how they communicated with one another, but they appeared to work in unison and harmony. The anticipation rose to heaven's heights as Lamb and I waited with breath held for the alien to present us with a written message. I could tell that it was on the verge of doing so, as I spotted a folded piece of paper in it's hands. I watched as the alien unfolded the paper, and I spotted the strange seal of a dome that was on all of their stationary. Holding the back side of the message to us, it opened what appeared to be it's small mouth. Out came a strange sound that resembled the bleating of a baby goat, which seemed to communicate a sense of urgency. The alien shook the note as it made the sound, as if it were emphasizing the importance of the message. Then it reached it's lengthy and long fingers out to hand the note over to one of us, and we both stood still, neither one of us wanting to have to take the piece of paper from the creature's hands. Our hesitation caused the alien to grow impatient, and it began to wave the note around prompting one of us to take it. Fearful of it growing angry, we both reached out for the note at the same time, but I ended up retrieving it before Lamb did. For a split second my hand made contact with the alien's. It's hands were clammy and wet, almost like the skin of a frog. It' fingertips left round wet marks on the white paper, causing it to be mushy and the ink that was on it to smudge slightly. With my hand trembling, I unfolded the message, and I began to read the text out loud. 'Attention Earth Creatures, Inside your radio wave food cooking device, we discovered a hostile microchip that caused the device to malfunction and catch on fire. After examination of this chip we were able to determine that it was implanted by the Belfarians. They have come into your planet's atmosphere in an effort to destroy our computer program, and to stop our efforts of taking over Earth . We have taken the microwave device for the Nebnar Museum ,' I looked up at the alien who was still blinking and staring. I nodded my head at it to convey that I comprehended what the message was saying, and it immediately sucked itself up into a violet beam, disappearing upon my acknowledgment. The dome dwellers were not into wasting time, and it appeared that they applied a sense of urgency to everything that they did. The message was no exception, and it was the most urgent message we had ever received from them. It was also the first time we saw one of them exhibit what appeared to be fear. Turning to Lamb I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head in confusion. I was at a loss for words as I tried to digest all of the implications made by the information we had just received. I wanted to say something, but a part of me was afraid to. I always reminded myself that the aliens were likely listening to my every word, and I always kept my thoughts in my head. But I was beginning to think based on the current circumstances, it was time for that to change. I weighed the risk against the benefit of speaking. The risk was that the dome dwellers would become angry, and then harm or kill me. The benefit was that speaking would allow Lamb and I the ability to try to make sense of the crazy mess we were in. A part of me contemplated how perhaps the aliens wanted us to talk to each other about it, and that is why they delivered the message to both of us. On that thought I decided I would speak. I started by stating the obvious new information “There are more aliens than the dome aliens.” Lamb was silent, his brain in overdrive as he analyzed the info. I continued as I knew it would be at least several minutes before he spoke. 14

“And these aliens are a threat to the dome people.” I paused and reread the note silently, muted by how perplexed I was. That day had changed everything I thought I knew about the dome dwellers. Once I knew that there were other life forms that were a threat to them, they did not appear as powerful and terrifying as they did before. They also did not appear to be able to see everything at all times like I thought they could. They did not see the other aliens place the microchip into the microwave, whatever the reason. Lamb finally spoke, interrupting my run away curiosity. “I wonder if that is why Ben punched Patrick in the nose? I wonder if the aliens from Belfaria installed their own computer into Ben Banks.” Lamb never ceased to amaze me. He was always ahead of the game. Unlike me he wasn't analyzing the universal aspect of the aliens; he was analyzing the present and most crucial elements. And that is why he was the one in charge. As I thought of how he was likely right, I felt fear sweep over me as I tried to imagine the other aliens. The dome dwellers were terrifying. If the other aliens were scary to the dome dwellers, I could only imagine what they would be like to Lamb and I. Lamb continued on after further reflection. “It would appear that there was an intent to the alien's message. Were they trying to recruit us for some kind of assistance? What were they hoping to accomplish by giving us that information? It must have benefited them more to inform us than not to. They could have just made us believe that the microwave shorted because of something else.” Lamb was absolutely correct. There was no way that the aliens would have told us unless they felt like they needed to. They were secretive about everything accept the agreement at hand. “These aliens are a threat to the dome dwellers, but the question is, are they a threat to us.” Lamb concluded, and he sat again silently thinking things over as he stared at the floor. Several moments later, are thoughts were interrupted by a beam of violet light, and appearing in it was Patrick, being beamed down from the dome. His nose had been cleaned up and it looked normal again. It appeared as though the dome dwellers had patched him up. In his hands he was holding a piece of paper and he was smiling a huge smile. “You look happy for someone who just got punched in the face.” Lamb remarked, and Patrick chuckled. Stepping forward Patrick held up the note for Lamb and I to look at. “I have a message from the dome dwellers.” he remarked, and he handed the note to Lamb. Opening the note, Lamb drew in a breath before reading out loud. 'Attention humans, we are officially at war with the Belfarians, who have begun preparations to make Earth their own. We must take whatever steps are necessary to defend our computer system, and to protect what it has accomplished so far .' Lamb was right. The aliens did have a reason for giving us the first piece of information. They needed to build their defenses against the Belfarians, and they needed us to help them accomplish that. While they had lorded power over us in secret, that secret had come to make them dependent on us. There was no way that they could step out into the public eye without terrorizing it. It was through Patrick that they had to control everyone. Lamb cleared his throat and continued on with the second part of the message. 'We would like to present you with a new deal based on current circumstances. In exchange for ultimate earthly power, we ask that you assist us in recruiting an army against the Belfarians. This new deal would cancel out the previous held deal, and would have a different strategy plan. This new plan would entail a new software program being installed into the current host, as well as the two ambassador agents that accompany him .' Immediately I interrupted Lamb, not even sure that he had finished reading 15

“Nope, you can count me out. There is no way that they are installing any computer in me. I see what you go through Patrick, shitting yourself and all. You can have all of that!” Patrick frowned and furrowed his brows as if he were wounded. “Conway, how can you say such mean things to me? We are all in this together.” I gritted my teeth at his words. As far as I was concerned we were not all in this together. Patrick was the one who knowingly made a deal with the dome aliens. Lamb and I were just agents who had climbed the ladder too far, and thought we knew what we were getting ourselves in to. I did not respond, but instead looked to Lamb to get his reaction. He was studying Patrick's face skeptically, and I could tell he was feeling uneasy too. Neither of us trusted him. Patrick looked at us hopefully, but we had nothing to say. We were not about to agree to allow the aliens to install software into our heads. We both moved a few steps back from him. Lamb knew that talking to Patrick was talking to the aliens. Patrick was like a window at a fast food place, and Lamb was like the customer shouting through the speaker from inside of their car. “Patrick. We need time to think about this offer. There is no answer right now.” Lamb stated, and Patrick's muscles began to jump under his skin at his words. Patrick's muscles froze and his eyes became glazed as if he were computing Lamb's response. He remained like that for about 30 seconds, as if he were working hard to process information. The computer could be heard working inside of his head, and the fan kicked on to keep it cool. I watched fearful of what was going to happen. We had never not agreed to the alien's requests before, and it was evident by watching Patrick that our decline was glitching up the program. He was usually quick to respond in conversation but his computation was not evident to us. He almost seemed stuck as he sat there trying to calculate his next move. Finally he managed to get out “Time is of the essence. How much time will you require to make your decision?” Lamb winced at the question. I could tell he didn't know what to say. He was still processing all of the crazy things that had just happened. He held his palm to his head as if his thinking were labored. His mind was spinning. Patrick hustled Lamb impatiently “You are wasting time! The Belfarians are moving fast. You only have 24 hours to make your decision. At that point we will either act on building our army, or we will abandon our mission, and allow the Belfarians to lord this planet.” Chills went up my spine as I listened to the aliens speaking through Patrick. What would it mean to have the Belfarians lording over Earth instead of the dome dwellers? Were they worse? That is what Lamb and I needed to figure out. “ We will take that time to consider your proposal.” Lamb replied, and he held up his shaking hand as if to block any more conversation. Patrick closed his eyes and lowered his head. He remained that way for several seconds while his consciousness shifted from the computer to his brain. Once the shift was complete, Patrick slowly opened his eyes, and he looked all around him. He clicked his tongue several times as he studied his surroundings. “Patrick, are you back?” I asked, and I looked into his eyes to see if he seemed aware. He did not respond. “Patrick?” I called again, but still nothing. I looked at Lamb puzzled, as Patrick always responded after three clicks of his tongue. It was our cue that the shift had completed from the computer to his brain after the aliens had taken remote control of him. Once the shift was complete, Patrick returned, running mostly on commands from his own brain. He was supposed to be able to verbalize and think as himself. But instead of answering Lamb, he stared straight ahead and he was mute. “What the hell is wrong with him?” Lamb asked, and I just shrugged my shoulders. 16

Patrick was frozen, and he was not responding to our attempts to get him to engage with us. He just continue to keep his eyes fixed on the same spot on the floor. After several seconds he began to drool on himself, and then suddenly, his posture slumped forward. “Wow, that doesn't look good.” I remarked to Lamb, feeling myself grow nauseous at the sight of Patrick. “He looks...brain dead.” Lamb stared at Patrick in shear horror, beholding what looked like a shell of a man. “He is brain dead.” he stated flatly. Grabbing my phone I pulled up Patrick's contract, which was over 2,000 pages long. I searched out the chapter on shifting, and I read about glitches. Nothing seemed to explain Patrick's current state, until I got to the part about the computer being shut down. “I think I know what is wrong with Patrick.” I called to Lamb, and I began to read him a paragraph from the contract. 'In the event that the dome dwellers decide that the current program is no longer of use to their mission, they will shut down the computer until the desired software has been installed. This will cause all functioning to be placed back on the brain. A decline in natural brain function may be observed after prolonged program use, as the brain may have grown to reliant on the computer to execute it's functions. This may ultimately result in brain damage. The remedy to this condition is to boot up the computer, which will take back control of the lost functions of the organic brain .' I stopped what I was reading and I looked at Patrick's snowed out face. It was a horrific sight and I struggled to understand why he would give up his own mind for any level of power. I shuddered at my realization that Patrick had come to be completely run by a machine, and none of his speech or his movements were his own. Nothing about Patrick was genuine, except for his ability to breath and defecate. His own brain had become an atrophied muscle that grew lazy and lame as it was inactive. He had come to have the IQ of an infant with his own brain, losing more than just his super human qualities. There was no way that we would ever be able to place him in the public eye. He would influence no one in the condition that he was in. “How are people going to respond to this? How do we explain this? Are we going to say that Ben's punch caused this horrific brain damage?” Lamb finally spoke, sharing his thoughts out loud. That appeared to be the most logical thing to say. There was really no other way to explain it without telling the truth. But because people wouldn't believe that the punch alone would have caused it, we added in a blood clot to make it believable. Once we agreed upon the story, Lamb grabbed his cell from his pocket and called someone from his contact list. “Yes, I need to bring someone to you. I need them admitted. It is top secret.” Lamb said to whoever was on the other end of the phone, and then he hung up and turned to me. “We are going to move Patrick to a top secret nursing facility specifically for situations like this. We need to keep him out of sight for now, until we figure this out.” An agent was there within several minutes to retrieve Patrick, pushing a wheel chair. Together Lamb and I tried to move Patrick from his slumped stance into a sitting position, so we could place him in the wheelchair, but he was stuck in place and everything had seized up. We were not able to move his arms or legs at all. Finally we gave up on trying to move him that way, and we opted for something that would allow us to move him in the position that he was in. After a moment of brainstorming, the three of us decided that we would get him out inside of a large laundry cart, and exit the facility through the basement where the laundry receptacles were. Feet first, the three of us placed Patrick into the cart, after we struggled to lift him up. He fell to the side like a doll without a stand, and his shoulders and head stuck out. We covered him with linen 17 until we had disguised him as a pile of dirty laundry. Then immediately he was wheeled away to be brought to the nursing facility, where he would be secretly kept from everyone else. Once Lamb and I were finally in the room alone, Lamb began searching Patrick's contract using his phone. He appeared frantic as he scrolled down, his eyes moving from side to side. When he was sick of struggling to find what he was searching for, he finally let me in on his search. “What does it say happens if we leave Patrick the way that he is? What if we don't try to fix him? We can just give the people the story and leave it at that.” I could tell Lamb was stressed, as he wasn't thinking of everything like he usually did. It was almost like he completely forgot about the Belfarians. I began to worry that he was losing his focus, and I wondered if he would be able to lead anymore. He caught himself, and got angry. “No, that is not that!” he shouted. “The Belfarians are here. We have them to worry about too!” At that point I felt compelled to offer something. “Perhaps we should get to know about the Belfarians as best we can.” I suggested, which caused Lamb to grin and laugh in manic delight. “Yes Conway, that is exactly what we need to do! Exactly!” he exclaimed. “We need to figure out what the deal is with the Belfarians. We can start with Ben, who was likely implanted with their technology. He must be in a holding cell somewhere by now. We need to find out.” We drove to the facility where we heard Ben was being held, hoping that we would discover something about the Belfarians. When we arrived at his cell, we found him blankly staring ahead, mute and unresponsive to everyone. His eyes were rolled into the back of his head, and it appeared as if he were being programmed.

4 “How long has he been like this?” Lamb asked the agent who was watching him. “Since he was dragged off of the stage. He has been like that for several hours.” the agent replied. The three of us stood and watched silently, horrified by what could be going on inside Ben's head. It seemed that he was rapidly downloading language just like Patrick, but his programming seemed smoother and much more quiet. He did not stutter and repeat phrases. He did not jerk about or 18 move erratically. The sound of the writing of information suddenly could be heard inside of Ben's head, along with the accompaniment of the cooling fan. The agent who was assigned to him started to get shaky. He looked at Lamb and I wearing fear on his face. “What is that?” he asked. “It sounds like some kind of computer. It starts and stops.” We remained silent, still operating in top secret mode even though we were uncertain as to anything about the Belfarians. But we both knew that our ability to keep the aliens hidden might be gone. It appeared as though the Belfarians did not fear their presence being known like the dome dwellers did. Instead of answering the agent's question Lamb asked him “Who are you?” “I am Agent Louis, Sir. Frank Louis.” Lamb held out his hand to offer an insincere shake, and I followed suite. The agent shook both of our hands but looked at us with burning anticipation of an explanation. He wasn't going to get one. “Agent Louis, thank you for assisting with this matter. Agent Conway and I will take things from here.” Lamb directed. Agent Louis appeared dying with curiosity and fright, but he also appeared relieved to be able to leave the situation. He nodded in compliance and wasted no time in heading for the door. He turned one last time to take a look at Ben, not able to help himself. “Remember, not a word of this to anyone Louis.” Lamb reminded Louis as he exited. Lamb and I watched Ben for several minutes, comparing him to Patrick. I waited for Lamb to verbalize his thoughts to me, providing me with his insight. While I was curious to know what his observations were, I was afraid to hear them as well. I was already disturbed enough, and I felt like hearing the things I hadn't thought of from Lamb might be enough to send me over the edge. But I didn't hear any of Lamb's thoughts. Instead my ears were blasted by a sudden high pitch coming from Ben's mouth, which he held open as if he were singing in a choir. His eyes opened and he turned his head to Lamb and I, who instinctual jumped back from him. Glowing like embers on a burning log, his eyes blazed inside their sockets. Slowly he raised his open hand in the air and waved at Lamb and I as if he were greeting us. In shock and not knowing how to respond, we both reluctantly waved at Ben, greeting him in return. We could only hope that the gesture was a sign of good will toward us, but it seemed unlikely given the fact that Patrick had been punched in the face earlier. I tried to stand beside Lamb straight and dignified, but I could feel myself wobbling with fright. My heart pounded as I looked into Ben's fiery eyes, and I covered my ears as the pitch grew louder. After several seconds, I turned my attention to Lamb, who was covering his ears and staring wide eyed. Abruptly the high pitched sound stopped, but Ben's eyes remained aglow. Proceeding next from his mouth was the sound of sinister laughter, but it did not sound like Ben's voice. Instead the voice was much deeper and cryptic, sounding as if the soul behind it was powerful and commanding. When the laughter subsided, the voice began to speak through Ben. “My name is Soular, and I speak to you on behalf of the Belfarians. We have come here after discovering that you were assisting the Nebnar in taking over this planet. We have come to stop them from doing this, as this planet shall be the New Belfaria. We have declared war on anyone who gets in our way. You have been warned!” the voice informed us. As soon as the message had been delivered, Ben's eyes changed back to normal, and he fell onto the floor as if someone had violently shoved him. Afraid to even so much as touch him, Lamb and I left him laying where he landed. Starring at him lying their, our minds whirled to make sense of what was happening. I acknowledged that the identity of what we had called dome dwellers had finally been revealed. 19

I wondered if the Nebnar had kept their identity hidden from us for a reason. And I wondered why the Belfarians were more than willing to identify themselves to us. My brain was over taxed, and I left the planning for our course of action up to Lamb. It took a good twenty minutes before Lamb was ready to say anything, and his voice was full of crackling dread as he did. “The Belfarians must be more advanced than the Nebnar. It would appear that they are able to speak through their own voice, and that they do not require written messages or programs to communicate with us. The programming also seems smoother and faster, as if they have more advanced technology than the Nebnar.” Lamb paused to swallow and to try to calm his jumping nerves as if he had to prepare to vocalize his next observation. “Also, it would appear that the Belfarians are not concerned with cooperation like the Nebnar are...” and his words trailed off as he began to sink into his own terror. I found myself unsettled and weak in the absence of Lamb's usual composure and direction, and I could see his stress rising with each incident. Never had I seen him so lost in his own thoughts. But like me, he was only human. The two of us were likely close to our breaking point, where we would literally lose whatever bit of sanity we had left. We had been on a wild ride, but now the ride was picking up speed, and it was delivering unanticipated twists and turns. Helpless and confused, we tried not to fall into fearful madness. Aiding us in the utter surrender to the bewilderment of our own minds was the alarming reminder that the clock was ticking, and that the Nebnar would be back to see us the next day, expecting our answer to their proposal. Pulling himself together as best he could, Lamb attempted to provide direction. With the tip of his loafer, he lightly nudged Ben, who did not respond, moving only from the force of Lamb's foot. “Is he dead?” I asked Lamb, who I could tell was contemplating flipping him onto his back to check out his status. Lamb motioned me to join him in flipping Ben over, and reluctantly I went to assist him. When we flipped him over, we could see that Ben was unconscious and still alive. We could see his chest rising and falling ever so slightly. His face appeared very flush, and he was sweating. The fan inside his skull was running at full force. Lamb touched Ben's cheek with the back of his hand, and exclaimed to me “He is on fire!” He paused to think of what we should do. “Conway, go get some ice water!” he commanded, and having no clue what Lamb was going to do with the ice water, I immediately darted off in search of it. As I ran down the hallway of the complex, I tried not to bring too much attention to myself. I spotted a water cooler, and I considered taking water from it. But while it would give me water, it would not give me ice. I quickly dismissed it, and hurriedly I continued down the hall. I spotted a woman up ahead who had a coffee cup in her hand. I figured that because she had just fixed herself something, she would likely know where the break room kitchen was. “Excuse me Miss.” I spoke politely. “Would you happen to know where the break room is. I am not very familiar with the building yet.” She smiled a wide smile and pointed to the door she had just stepped out from. Then she continued on down the hall. She assumed that I was a new agent still green, struggling to learn my way around the gigantic complex, which was exactly what I wanted her to think. When I entered the kitchen, there was no one else there, but still I knew I was on camera. I had to move quickly and calmly as to not look odd or frantic. Should I have moved the way that I felt, I would have blown our cover for sure. It was bad enough that Agent Louis had become privy to some of what was going on. In the corner was a large fridge and freezer combo, that, to my luck, had an ice maker. I looked 20 around for something I could contain the ice in, and I decided on the plastic cups that were stacked over by the sink. Once I had three cups filled, I filled the fourth cup with water, and I tried to act natural as I walked down the hallway with my hands full of ice. Thankfully, I did not run into anyone. When I arrived back in the room to join Lamb, he had removed Ben's socks and shoes, and was fanning him with a piece of cardboard. He had sat him up in a chair. Immediately Lamb rose when he saw me, and he took an ice cup and the water cup from me. On the table was a large green plastic bowl that he had fished out from somewhere. He took the cups and dumped them into the bowl. He signaled me to do the same with my two cups, and following his lead, I dumped them in. “I am not sure that this will work.” he began as he grabbed the bowl up and brought it to the floor. “I remember reading something in Patrick's program manual on how to stop over heating. We have nothing to lose.” Lamb lifted Ben's legs, the right and then the left, and placed his bare feet into the icy water. Initially nothing appeared to be happening, but after half a minute, Ben's forehead became cooler to the touch. After about a minute, the fans had stopped running, and the computer could be heard computing. Lamb and I sat there anxiously, both with a hand touching the gun on our hips. There was really know telling what state Ben would be in if he regained consciousness, but we already knew he could be aggressive. Initially, I couldn't figure out why Lamb was going through any effort to save Ben from overheating when he didn't have to. But when he started thinking out loud, it all became clear to me. “If he comes back online we will have to watch him, but I think we need to try to preserve the computer inside of him for right now. We might be able to learn something more about the Belfarians from him, or maybe even something about the Nebnar. We also don't want to have to explain what happened to Ben. It is bad enough that we are going to have to explain what happened to Patrick.” he said assertively. But while I usually agreed with Lamb, I felt uneasy about interfering with what the Belfarians were doing. It appeared that they were not concerned with Ben overheating, and perhaps they even meant for it to happen. Aiding Ben could have equated to interfering with their war, which in turn, might have made them angry. They seemed to enjoyed using electrical shorts and fire as a means of assault. My stomach formed a tight knot as I thought of catching on fire. “Lamb” I said his name with urgency so that he would stop what he was doing. “Should we interfere with what is going on here? What if he was suppose to do that?” As soon as the words had exited my mouth, Lamb turned his attention away from me and back on Ben dismissively. “I have thought about it. We can only plan for what we know to be certain. It is certain that people will ask what happened to Patrick and Ben. It is not certain that stopping Ben from overheating will be harmful to us.” I marveled at Ben's thinking. He was able to exercise logic in the midst of a crisis. But while I was impressed with his reasoning, it didn't help to reduce my fear by much. While it made sense, it was still an admission of our ignorance, and our ignorance was terrifying. The truth was far from our grasp, and just when we thought we understood something, we were met with shocking events that showed us otherwise. We were completely in the dark as to what to do, as we knew very little about either of the alien races. While it seemed that the Belfarians were violent and more powerful than the Nebnar, it might have just appeared that way. Perhaps the Belfarians were not more powerful, and perhaps their ability to use our language was more of an ability than a sign of superiority. For that matter, we weren't even sure that the Nebnar couldn't speak. For all we knew they may have chosen not to. Ben's eyes slowly opened and he turned his head to look at Lamb. Not sure of what to expect 21 from Ben, Lamb jolted back, and he waited on guard to see what Ben was going to do. He held his hand spread out in back of him, signaling me to stay back. There was no need for him to do it, as I had no intentions of getting anywhere close to Ben. Ben was quiet, and he just stared at Lamb and blinked. He did not appear to be having any type of emotion, but he did not appear to be brain dead like Patrick. He seemed as if he were in some type of dormant state, almost like a hibernation mode. He did not respond when Lamb waved his hand in front of his face, and his pupils did not shrink when Lamb shined his flashlight in his eyes. “He is not responsive to stimuli, but he has his basic functioning. The Belfarians appear to have taken him offline.” He stated the obvious for me. Lamb scanned Ben's head until he found the tiny hole created by the installation of an alien computer. He circled the circumference, holding his finger an inch above it. “It looks like the computer was installed here, and the port looks very much like Patrick's. The aliens appear to have similar methods of installing their computers into the human head.” He pointed out dramatically. I looked for a split second at the port drilled into the side of Ben's head, and I felt like I was going to get sick. As fleeting as my glance was, I could see that Lamb was right. Both ports were very similar. They were both about a quarter inch in diameter, and they were located in the same places on the side of the skull. It looked as though the Belfarians and the Nebnar shared common knowledge on the installation of the human controlling computers. “Are we really so far behind these alien creatures that they both have this technology, and we can't even begin to fathom it?” I uttered out loud, knowing full well Lamb would not be able to answer my question. “I realize how stupid humans are.” I continued, “But these aliens are far more advanced than us.” Lamb stood still and looked into the stagnate face of Ben as if it would help him formulate a brilliant plan of some kind. After two minutes, he finally thought enough to speak. “Conway, we are running out of time, and we have no clue what we are doing. We need to try to figure things out as quickly as possible before the Nebnar arrive, so we will know what to do.” he spoke, making it clear that he didn't have a clue as how to proceed in doing so. And neither did I. The Nebnar came and went as they pleased. They always had aliens guarding their ships, so no one could sneak on. Other than the messages they gave us, we knew nothing about them, other than that we were terrified of them. We knew not why they needed to, or wanted to, take over the planet. We had no idea exactly where they came from, or even what they were capable of. Everything we did was just to maintain the arrangement in order to not upset them. As I froze up along with Lamb about what to do, I could here the ticking of the clock on the wall, reminding us that the time was growing shorter by the second. I concentrated on how we could even begin to investigate the aliens. I found that my mind was being held back by my fear of the Nebnar. While I wanted to investigate them, I did not want to have to deal with them directly. It was way too much stress on my heart. Interrupting our thoughts came a knock on the door from Agent Johnston, who had been sent to check on the status of Ben. While he knocked to be let in, he enter on his own after only several seconds. “What is going on with Ben? he questioned Lamb, as if he somehow had the right to demand answers from him. Lamb scowled at Johnston and walked right up to him, getting several inches away from his face. “Things seem fishy to you Johnston? That is because they are.” Lamb stated flatly, and he pointed over to Ben who was propped up in the chair, his feet still submerged in the icy water. Johnston walked over to Ben and looked at his frozen face and blank expression. He covered his 22 eyes not wanting to see anymore. He could tell that Ben had completely checked out. “Wow, will he end up like Patrick?” he asked, and he kept his hands over his face. I could see that a tear slipped past his fingers and rolled down his cheek. Immediately I was angered by his crying. I could tell that Lamb was too because he stomped his foot against the floor. Johnston didn't know the half of it. “Are you really crying Johnston? Are you freaking kidding me?” I stated, and I stepped closer so I could thoroughly shame him. “Lamb and I, we have to deal with these horrific creatures. We are the ones who have to see them. Stop being a little whiny bitch!” Johnston only became more emotional over my words, and had to wipe tears away from his face to stop them from rolling down. He made a very weak attempt to regain his composure, straightening his back and taking a deep breath in. But every time he looked at Ben's face he became emotional. He decided to turn away from Ben so he could try to get it together. “What the hell happen to him? Did the dome dwellers put a computer into him too?” Johnston finally managed to squeak out. “Oh no.” Lamb answered. “No, not the dome dwellers. It was their enemies, the Belfarians. It was the Belfarians who put a computer into the side of his head. They are at war with the Nebnar.” Johnston jumped slightly in surprise. “Who are the Nebnar?” he asked. “The Nebnar are what we have been calling the dome dwellers. It would appear that the name of these aliens is the Nebnar, or at least that is what the Belfarians call them. For some reason they must have not wanted us to know their name.” Lamb informed Johnston, but then his voice trailed off as he began to wonder why the Nebnar would keep their identity a secret. “How do you know all of this?” Johnston asked, and I placed the message that we had received from the Nebnar down on the table. He read it as he ran his hand over the grooves of the strange indented seal that was placed in the upper right hand corner of every message that we had ever received from the Nebnar. It was a flat line with an inverted U drawn above it, resembling their flying craft. It contained a spectrum of colors in it's outline, and it had some kind of microchip embedded in the middle of the design. We were never certain what the chip was for, and it made us uneasy. But we dared not have disturbed it for fear of upsetting the Nebnar. It appeared to be some sort of technology that they were using to track something, but we didn't know exactly what it was that they were tracking. Johnston looked dumb founded as he read the letter over and over. He shook his head as he struggled to accept what the message was saying. He sat down in a chair that was behind him before he passed out. I looked at Lamb and sighed. The two of us were past the initial shock of discovering the Belfarians, and Johnston was always catching up to us. It had really become old at that point. Lamb decided to leave Johnston with very little time for processing the new information, and he went at him with the questions we had come to ask, having already been aware of the new aliens. “The Belfarians have used Ben to deliver a message warning us not to assist the Nebnar any further. We are not sure whether we should help them anymore or not. It seems that the Belfarians are more advanced.” I stopped Lamb before he could explain to Johnston any further. “Listen Lamb, I told you already, I am not allowing them to put any kind of computer in my head if I can help it. I will skip out right now.” I warned him. I felt my heart pick up speed as I realized that a part of Lamb was actually contemplating allowing the aliens to put a computer in his head. I couldn't see how he would allow such a thing when he saw the horrors Patrick had to go through time and time again. “Lamb, you are not actually thinking that you might allow the Nebnar to put a computer inside 23 of your head are you? Do you really want to live like Patrick does? What are you going to do when the Belfarians find out that you are assisting the Nebnar?” Lamb sat quietly and he did not answer any of my questions, but I could tell that he was thinking about what I was saying. I grew impatient as I waited for him to say something. On impulse, I took a pocket knife from my pocket, and I grabbed the message away from Johnston. Using the knife, I began to cut into the emblem, and Lamb and Johnston nearly jumped out of their own bodies. “Why not see?” I said to the both of them, and I continued to cut into the paper with the knife until I had completely cut out the tiny little microchip. I was determined to do anything other than have a computer installed in me. “There are no rules, because ultimately, we have no idea what to do. But the one thing I do know is that doing nothing is the reason we don't know anything. We never wanted to investigate the Nebnar because we were so afraid of them. For the longest time I have wanted to know what was inside this letter seal, but my fear has always stopped me. Not today.” I asserted, and I pulled the paper back to reveal the tiny chip that was contained inside. It looked like a chip that would be embedded inside of a credit card. I held it up to the light and studied the pattern of contact points around the pad. It appeared as though the letter was scanned somewhere before arriving to us, and I could only imagine what purpose the chip served. I did not have to imagine very long. Coming from the ceiling shined in a beam of purple light which caused the three of us to jump back. Soon the outline of a Nebnar could be seen filtering into the light stream. We waited for it to completely teleport in, and for the bright light to fade out. When it did, a Nebnar clearly stood in front of us. It appeared to be the same alien as before. It's head was calm, and it did not appear horrid or aggressive in it's features. Johnston did not deal well with the shock of seeing an alien, and he passed out cold on the floor, falling backward. Lamb and I tried to stand brave and tall, but the both of us were shaking as we waited for the alien to approach us. As it drew nearer, it dawned on me that I still had the tiny microchip in my hands. The Nebnar looked down at my trembling hand with disapproval, furrowing the ridge that ran across it's forehead. It then looked around the room as if it were observing the environment. It's eyes stopped on Ben's feet which were soaking in the ice water, and after several seconds, the alien began to slither quickly toward Lamb and I. The Nebnar backed us into a corner, moving over the top of Johnston as it did. I jammed my eyes shut and I expected the worst. I knew that the alien was aware that we had stopped the Bulgarian's computer from overheating. I braced myself for it's wrath as it approached us, thinking that the end of my life had finally arrived.

5 Holding something that looked like a remote in it's hands, the Nebnar pushed a button on the device and it began to play a prerecorded message. 'You have removed a tracking chip from a declaration of war which belongs to the Nebnar's Historical Museum. Chips are used to keep track of messages that have historical relevance to the Nebnar. You are here by order to return the chip to us immediately .' The alien held out it's pasty gray hand and instinctually I moved to hand the chip over without so much as a thought. But just when the Nebnar was about to take the chip between it's slender thumb 24 and index finger, Ben sprang up out of the chair; function being restored to him. His eyes were glowing like fire embers, and he began to laugh like he did before, deep and menacing. His feet remained in the water. Steam began to rise up from the plastic bowl as his body grew hotter and hotter. And Lamb and I were not the only ones that were backed into a corner that time; also cowering, in the opposite corner, was the Nebnar. It began to bleat very loudly over and over again. It appeared terrified, more terrified than even us. It's head began to change from a dark gray to a florescent pink, almost as if it were blushing with fear. While Lamb and I were also scared of Ben's controlled form, it was at that moment that we understood that the Nebnar were afraid of the Belfarians. What once looked like a terrifying and all powerful creature, now appeared to be a very tiny fish in an entire sea. The Nebnar appeared afraid for it's life. Ben began to rise, and he floated up and down in mid air. He pointed at the Nebnar. “Get up!” he commanded, and the Nebnar pushed itself to stand despite it's immense trembling. The frightened creature would not look Ben directly in the eyes. “Look at me, you cowardly being. I am going to destroy you!” Ben spoke sharply. “Did you think you were going to succeed in taking this planet?” As soon as the words exited Ben's mouth, the microchip became red hot, and I dropped it to the floor as I felt the burning pain against my palm. Lamb and I watched as the glowing red chip burned into the floor. Then, it disappeared into thin air as if it had never been there at all. The Nebnar began to bleat, and it's head began to move rapidly like the waves in the ocean, until the contents inside could be heard sloshing around against the sides of it's elongated head. It collapsed to the floor where it curled itself into the fetal positions, and it did not move. Ben then turned to Lamb and I, who were wide eyed and immobile. He wasted no time in delivering a message to us. “The Nebnar shall all be exterminated, and there is no way for them to escape. Assisting them is futile. This planet has already been claimed by the Belfarians, who will shape it into the New Belfaria. We will rule over all life forms on this planet, and we will bring our colonies to inhabit the land. We will destroy you if you get in our way.” Lamb and I watched as the levitating Ben burst into flames as if he had spontaneously combusted. For a split second an out cry of pain could be heard coming from the fiery figure, as if the real Ben were trapped within, burning up inside his own body. The Nebnar watched the fiery figure petrified until it was distracted by a light that blinked on it's wrist band. When it saw the light, it began to look to the sky, holding it's hands up as if it were reaching for something. It appeared in distress, like something horrible had just happened. Lamb and I stayed focus on the burning blaze, and watched on horrified of what we were witnessing. I stepped over Johnston as I scrambled back from the fire, hearing his hand crunch under my shoe. He woke up screaming from the pain, staring at his boomerang shaped finger. He then turned at the burning blaze behind him, and screamed again. He joined Lamb and I by the exit, trying to avoid the burning heat. Like a match hitting water, the fire suddenly went out, and Ben remained before us as a chard and blackened figure. A whirl of wind began to blow down on him, sucking up the ashes from his head to his toes in a streaming tornado. The stream traveled through the ceiling and upwards toward the sky, as if it were traveling to a particular destination. Once Ben was completely gone, the three of us were left in the room with the Nebnar. It remained folded up on the floor with both of it's eyes closed. The florescent color had began to fade from it's head into a light salmon color. It appeared as though the creature was returning back to it's normal state again. 25

As the shock subsided, Johnston brought his attention back to his crooked finger. He wrapped a handkerchief around his fingers to protect it, and he groaned from pain. Neither Lamb or I were much concerned with his injury. He wasn't going to die, and we had a Nebnar on the floor in front of us. I looked to Lamb as to what we should do. He looked perplexed. He was like someone with arachnophobia trying to kill a spider, as he stood there staring at the lanky sleeping creature. He finally jolted out of his hesitation, and he took out his pistol and pointed it toward the alien. At first I thought that he was going to shoot it. Instead, he yelled to Johnston to find something to secure the creature with. He called me to assist him in tying up the Nebnar, pointing out how it appeared to not have teleporting abilities. We waited for about five minutes for Johnston to return. When he did, he came back with close line rope. With a deep breath, I headed into it with Lamb right beside me. Together we grabbed the slender, slimy arms of the Nebnar, and we rolled the alien over, securing it's arms behind it's back. We were surprised at how light it's body actually was when we moved it. The creature was about six feet when it stood upright, but it's figure was almost weightless. Because it's hands were slimy like the skin of an amphibian, we struggled to keep hold of the creature as they slipped through our hands like wet bars of soap. It had come out of it's coma as we moved it over, and it began to sound it's hideous distress call again in protest. As we tied it's hands behind it's back, the bright pink began to color it's head again, and it made no attempt to fight back. All it did was continue to bleat and turn a hot glowing pink. Once we had the Nebnar secured to our satisfaction, Lamb and I stopped to catch our breath. Johnston stood off to the side, still holding the handkerchief around his finger. He was dumb founded, and he had absolutely no words. Lamb noticed his bewildered state. “Go get your finger set Johnston, but not a word about this.” Lamb told him, and he left immediately, no doubt happy to get away from the horror. Lamb walked around the creature as it continued to blat, thinking of a way to shut it up. “I can't think straight when it is making that noise!” Lamb exclaimed to me. “How do we shut it up?” I really had no idea what would silence the creature. I did the only thing I could think of to do, and I wrote a message on a piece of paper to the Nebnar which read ' shut up !' I held the message up in front of the creatures face. It took notice of what I had written, and suddenly it was quiet. Lamb motioned me to follow him out of the room. I followed him, turning to make sure the creature was going to stay put before I pulled the door shut. “We need to formulate a plan before we question the creature. We need to be on the same page. I assume it has been disconnected from the mother dome, or else it would have zapped out by now. It is probably safe to grill him for information.” I was haggered and was weak on reply. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that we had captured one of the Nebnar after being terrified of them for so long. It almost seemed like a good dream I was going to wake up from, only to dumped back into the ugly nightmare of the dome dwellers. Discovering that the Nebnar had a weakness filled me with hope, and I realized that maybe they weren't a threat after all. I shrugged in blankness and shook my head. “Okay.. questions. What are we going to ask it?” Lamb asked me, trying to prepare for the interrogation. “What are some of the really crucial things for us to know?” And while I tried to help Lamb with his brainstorming, my head was pounding to the point where I couldn't concentrate. All of the stress was catching up to me, and I felt like the walls were caving in. I stood there holding my head with my eyes shut. Lamb grew impatient with me “Conway!” he barked at me, causing me to jolt. I forced my brain to think. The thing I was afraid of the most was the Belfarians, so they were 26 the first thing on my mind. I wanted to know why they wanted to take over the planet, which is something I felt that the Nebnar would know. I scribbled the question down on my note pad and read it to Lamb. “Good. Good.” he remarked. “And also, why did the Nebnar want to take over the planet? We have to know that too.” We decided that we would start with those two questions, and figure things out from there. We walked back to where the creature was being held captive, bracing ourselves for the interaction. I felt intense anxiety, but there was a little sense of hope within me too. Maybe we would find answers that would help us to escape an alien take over. The alien was still in the room where we had left him, but he wasn't tied up anymore. We had tied the knots as tight as we could, doing are best to secure his slippery wrists with the close line, but he had managed to get the rope off. It stood at his full height again, and it towered over Lamb and I. But it's height was no longer intimidating to us anymore. We realized the alien was as light as air. The alien could tell we were not afraid of it any longer, which made it afraid of us. It's head brightened up with a pink blush, and it scurried quickly back and forth, waving it's spread hands in the air. It began to start it's awful bleating again. “Oh not again!” Lamb exclaimed to me, and I watched him pull his taser out of his pocket. “Lamb, are you really going to tase it? What if something bad happens?” I put my hand on his arm to try to get him to stop. He turned to me sharply. “Agent Conway, something bad is already happening. Do you have another suggestion?” And of course I didn't. I was not able to show the creature any written messages because it was too engulfed in terror. It just kept running back and forth. The noise it was making became almost unbearable, to the point where I felt that it was going to drive me to insanity if it didn't stop. “Alright” I said to Lamb. “Go ahead. Tase it.” As soon as I agreed with his plan, he tased the creature, who responded by falling and flopping. The bright pink that colored the Nebnar's head suddenly turned a dark blood red. The ridge that ran across it's forehead opened up, and a green slimy liquid was projected out. It was almost like it purged from it's head instead of it's tiny mouth. Once it was subdued, Lamb and I went over to it so we could restrain it again. The smell that rose up from the projectile liquid hit us hard in the pits of our stomachs. It caused us both to choke and gag. It smelled worse than anything we had encountered before, and we had to turn away from it before we got sick. “We need to dilute it!” Lamb yelled to me. I ran back out to the break area with the cups I had brought before, leaving Lamb alone with the alien. While I was able to fetch the water quickly, the horrid smell had made it's way out into the hallway, and everyone was complaining and covering their noses. The jig was about to be up. I heard someone call for an evacuation, and people quickly started heading for the exits. I paid no mind, and I went to fetch the water. When I entered the break room there was a pitcher of ice water on the table, so I ditched the cups and took it. I had to fight against every urge within me to get back to Lamb. The smell was making my eyes water and causing me to wretch. My shirt over my mouth did not protect me from the fumes, and the stench was penetrating right through the fabric. By the time I got back into the room, Lamb had tears streaming down his face. He had opened the window so as not to suffocate to death. He couldn't leave the room and leave the Nebnar unattended, but he had to breathe. The smell began to travel outside, and to stink up the parking lot. Lamb quickly took the pitcher from me and poured it over the puddle, diluting the toxic purge. I 27 went back and forth several times with the pitcher, until Lamb had dumped enough water on the slime to where we could bare it. Then together we hoisted the creature up into a chair and tied it's hands behind it's back again. It slumped in the chair lifeless with it's tiny mouth partially open. “They have evacuated the building. Someone is going to see the alien if we don't act fast!” I warned Lamb. We each grabbed a side of the chair, and lifting it up, we placed the chair inside of one of the huge laundry bins. Just as we did to sneak Patrick out, we disguised the immobile alien as a pile of dirty clothes. Quickly Lamb and I wheeled the bin down the empty hall, and toward the elevator. We rode the elevator down to the garage level, where we had a black van parked. Lamb opened both of the doors so that we could throw the Nebnar in the back. At some point as we rolled along, the alien had gained consciousness, and it began it's horrible bleating as we lifted it up in the chair. “Oh shit! There it goes again.” I exclaimed. Lamb and I quickly laid the chair down, placing it so that the Nebnar's left side was against the floor. We then slammed shut the doors. Only slightly muffled was the sound of the Nebnar. “Let's get out of here!” Lamb stated, and the two of us hopped into the van. Lamb was driving and I climbed in the back from the passenger's side to sit with the alien. Hastily we exited the parking garage, and headed for the main road. Everyone was still distracted by the horrid smell that was coming from the goo inside the building. The bomb squad moved toward the stench in full gear, running into the building in a single file. Once we hit the main road we had to figure out where we were going to take the creature. We had to bring it somewhere remote, so we decided to bring it into the desert. Lamb made the call on his cell for a jet, and we drove to the take off location about 10 miles away. I sat in the back to man the Nebnar, and it bleated the entire ride to the run way. When we arrived the jet was just touching down. Thankfully the agent who delivered the jet was incredibly timely. As instructed, he landed, exited, and then enter the black BMW that was parked ahead. He drove off without looking back, down the windy road that we had just traveled to get there. When he was out of sight, we prepared to the exit the vehicle. “Okay” Lamb began “Let's stand the chair up and then get him out.” As we moved the alien, it became increasingly spooked, and it thrashed about as we attempted to move it. We almost dropped the creature, but we managed to set the chair down. Without another word we moved the creature into the back of the jet, and fastened the chair to the floor with anchored straps. I had all I could do not to punch it in the face as it's bleating was making my ears ring. “Too bad we can't tase it again.” I said to Lamb as we climbed into the jet. But I knew that as soon as we took off, we wouldn't hear it anymore. We placed muffs around it's head to cover it's oddly shaped ears, and we noticed that one ear was slightly bigger than the other one. We were not sure how it was going to respond to flying in the jet, so we tried to take all precautions. We needed it alive for the interrogation, and after the goo spewed from his forehead, we had no idea what could potentially happen if it was uncomfortable in any way. As we took off, the alien's head began to glow the bright pink. Lamb and I made sure that are gas masks were readily available just in case it purged again. The warehouse in the desert was about an hour away by jet plane, and we could only hope that the Nebnar did not expel anymore of the goo. Being trapped inside the tiny jet with the toxic sludge would likely kill us both. We flew with our hearts in our throats. But we were able to make it there alive, and while it's head was glowing like a poker, it did not project anything at us during the flight. It appeared to be quite weak and fatigued when we landed, as if it were sick. It had stopped bleating and thrashing, and it was leaning to the side of the chair with it's eyes partially closed. 28

“Is it okay?” I asked Lamb, as we unfastened the straps from the chair. “Conway, I would have no idea.” Lamb replied. The evening was growing later and the sun was going down. There was a cool breeze in the desert that night that gave me a slight chill. But I quickly warmed up as I helped Lamb to carry the chair into the warehouse. The warehouse was barren and empty. There was nothing inside of it but a few counter tops and lights. The facility was a top secret location, and Lamb and I were the only two people who knew about it. It had never been used prior to our coming, but it had been there just in case we needed it. “Set it down here.” Lamb said when we had walked about thirty feet inside the building. Gently we set the chair down, and the alien sat lame. It leaned back slightly. I feared that it might be dying, and that it wouldn't be able to answer any of our questions. It looked as though it was getting weaker by the second, and it's eyes began to close more and more. Some how we had to figure out how to keep it both awake and alive, but we didn't know enough about it to know what was good and what was bad for it. The only thing I knew was that the dreadful bleating had ceased, but it appeared as though the silence might have been a sign of the alien's decline. We watched to see if the Nebnar would perk up at all, but it remained sluggish. “It has been tanking ever since it's head threw up.” Lamb pointed out. “I am not sure what we can do to help it. I am not even sure if it can drink a glass of water.” But all we could do was try despite our ignorance. I went and fetched a cup of water from the bathroom, and I grabbed a bag of pretzels. I returned with both of the items in my hands, but I froze a few feet in front of the alien. I couldn't imagine trying to feed it a pretzel, and I wasn't sure that it could eat a pretzel at all. “Okay Conway, feed it the pretzel.” Lamb instructed, and I looked at him as if he were insane. “Feed it the pretzel!?” I repeated back at him in disbelief. “You feed it!” I replied. Lamb sighed as if I were being difficult, and he shook his head at me in disapproval. “Conway, I was the one who first moved to hog tie the alien. Now it is your turn to take one for the team. You must try to assist the alien by feeding it a pretzel, and giving it some water. We can't have it dying on us when we have to ask it questions.” I knew Lamb was right, and it was my turn to deal with the creature. But the thought of getting that close to it's face was intimidating. I began to shake and sweat. Removing a pretzel from the miniature bag, my hands began to tremble. I pinched the pretzel between my fingers, and slowly I approached the Nebnar. I looked it over, not sure if I should attempt to feed it where it looked like it's mouth was, or at the ridge of it's forehead. “How does it eat anyway?” I asked Lamb, who simply shrugged his shoulders. I decided to go for the opening that appeared to be a tiny mouth, and see what happened. I held up a message that I had written for it on a paper plate that read 'Food?' Despite it appearing to fade, the alien was receptive to the message, and it fixed it's eyes on the pretzels. It appeared to become slightly more alert, and it sat up straight. It opened it's tiny mouth to signal that it would accept the pretzel. I could not believe that I was actually going to get close enough to it's face to put something in it's mouth. I tried to psych myself up, but I became light headed. I was no where near over my fear of the Nebnar, and I had to pause for a moment so I wouldn't pass out. “Stop being a coward Conway and feed the thing a pretzel!” Lamb exclaimed, losing patience with me as I tried to get blood to my brain. Forcing myself to step forward, I approached the Nebnar, but I kept at least a foot between us. Slowly, I extended my arm out, and I brought the pretzel to it's mouth. It stretched it's tiny blue lips into 29 an O, reaching for the salted cracker. It inhaled as the pretzel touched it's lip, sucking it into it's mouth. Immediately I drew back my hands, and I tried to shake off the anxiety the experience had caused me. I watched as the creature's head began to move, and it appeared that while it ate through it's mouth, we were likely correct in assuming that it's food was digested in it's head. The motion made me feel queasy, and I had to turn away. “Now it needs a drink.” Lamb replied, and I almost got sick on his words. I had a cup of water in my hand that was about 6 inches tall. I held it at the very bottom so I could have my hands as far away from the alien's mouth as possible. I tried to take a few breathes to stop the room from spinning. For a moment, I thought I might pass out. But whatever the reason, Lamb decided to spare me. Having determined that the alien could form a suction with it's tiny mouth, Lamb handed me a straw from inside his pocket. Quickly I snatched it up from him and plunked it in the cup. I held it out and the alien caught the straw between his lips and began to draw up the water. His head began to move again, but the motion was rippled and even. As he polished off the water, he gained more energy, and he became alert and responsive. “Conway, let us have a little chat away from the alien shall we?” Lamb said, leading me into the hallway. “There is something different about this alien. Why can't it beam up like the others? It must be sick. It also seems as though it may have been starving. The food we gave it appears to have improved it immediately” he began. “I guess we should ask it.” I replied, and I held up the permanent marker. The first question we wrote was 'why do you want to take over this planet?' and we held it up for the Nebnar to see. In front of it we put a marker and a stack of paper plates so that it could write it's reply. The creature read the message and then sat still, waiting for us to untie one of it's arms so it could respond. Reluctantly we untied it, our hands on our pistols. Once it's hand was free, it grabbed up the marker and began to write on the top plate. The creature continued writing for several minutes, and the sound of the marker squeaking against the wax coated plates caused me anxiety. Seven plates later and the creature had finished writing the message. Lamb began to read the plates one by one. 'The Nebnar no longer seek to take control of this planet anymore because of the Belfarians. They have abandoned all missions on Earth, and have left this galaxy. Half of the planet Nebnar was destroyed by a meteorite. The Nebnar have been traveling through the universe, searching for a new planet to make their own. Earth appeared to be the easiest one for them to take over before the Belfarians arrived .' Lamb grabbed a plate and wrote 'Why are you still here?' and showed it to the alien. Once the alien read the message, it's head began to blush slightly. It hesitated before it responded, and it almost appeared as though a tear fell from it's eye. Again it wrote for several minutes. 'T he ship took off without me. I was responding to the removal of the microchip tracker from the war declaration. I transported out of the dome, and then it left. ' it had written. I felt relieved that we would not have to deal with the Nebnar anymore, but we still had to worry about the Belfarians. We asked our next question. 'Why do the Belfarians want to take over this planet, and how do they plan to do it?' I wrote, and both Lamb and I waited in great suspense for it's response. We were baffled when we got it. 'This planet was picked by the Belfarians when the galaxy was first formed, to become the New Belfaria. Old Belfaria will be hit by a meteorite in three Earth years. The Belfarian Lord Soular has picked now in the galaxy's time to make the planetary transfer. The first step in the process is to eliminate most of the humans who currently dominate the planet .' 30

6 I could feel acid creeping up and their was burning in my chest. Often I wondered if I would live to see the end of the human race. I believed in that moment that I actually was going to. I wondered if it was better off to be dead already. With fear on my face, I looked at Lamb, who was struggling to digest what it was telling us. He read the message over again silently, and he held his palm against the top of his head like it was aching. Reactively I wrote 'Is there a way to stop the Belfarians from taking over the planet?' Before it wrote it's response, it appeared to be thinking about it's answer. It tapped the marker against the plate. Several seconds passed and then it began writing. 'There is only one way to stop the Belfarians, and that is to get them to abandon their mission. It is futile to try to fight them, and that is why the Nebnar have left. Soular is the 31 owner of this galaxy, and has owned it for millions of years. Soular's people are extremely advanced, and they have been evolving since before we were here. They can not be defeated .' “Great....” I remarked, and I had to acknowledge that Lamb's assumptions about the Belfarians had been correct. “How do we get them to not want to take over the planet?” I asked Lamb, and I laughed at how unclear it all was. 'How do we get them to abandon their mission?' Lamb wrote, and the creature made a small bleat, almost as if it were a sound of exclamation. It shut it's eyes and turned it's head away. It turned it's face up as if it were shunning us. Although we did not understand many things about it, Lamb and I were able to detect that it was sending us the message that it wasn't interested in answering the question. Lamb wrote 'Answer the question or else!' on a plate, and held it four inches from it's face in a threatening manner. The creature did not appear to take the threat seriously. It wrote quickly on the plate ' I will expel a toxic secretion that will be so pungent that it will kill both of you .' Reaching for a gas mask that was behind him on the floor, Lamb placed it over his face and instructed me to do the same with mine. I quickly did as he had instructed, but I could only hope that he was calling the alien's bluff. 'Why didn't you do it already, then?' Lamb wrote to it. And it wrote back in reply ' Because I needed to eat and drink. Now I have energy .' “I knew feeding it was a horrible idea!” I yelled at Lamb, my voice muffled by the mask. Quickly I wrote on a plate 'Please do not do that' and I held it up for the Nebnar to see. Lamb put his hands to his hips as if he were irritated. After several moments he signaled that we could remove the masks, but he remained on guard. “There has to be a reason why it doesn't want to answer the question. But what the hell could it be? The Belfarians just chased it's people out of here. You would think that it wouldn't be defensive of them. It has answered all of our questions so far. It is almost as if he is afraid to work against them.” Lamb whispered. I nodded my head in agreement, although a part of me felt like it probably didn't know. While Lamb whispered, I wondered if the alien could hear what he was saying. I looked again at it's ears, and noted their asymmetry It did not appear to react to anything that Lamb had said, and I wondered if the Nebnar could hear sound. All of it's communications with us were written messages, and the only sound that the alien appeared to make was a loud bleat. “We are going to have to play nice with the Nebnar.” I said to Lamb. “We can't assume that just because it didn't act upon it's ability to kill us, that it lacks the ability. Everything with these creatures up to this point has been about deals and agreements. Maybe we can make a deal with it.” Lamb nodded at my logic, and he tried to think of possible deals. He could not think of anything. The Nebnar were so mysterious that he didn't know where to begin. “What could we offer it?” he asked me, as if I was going to know. Together we sat silently, trying to think fast of what we might have that we could possibly offer the alien. It appeared that it was stuck on Earth and that the other Nebnar had left it behind. What it really wanted to do was to get back up in the dome so it could join it's people, but we had no clue how to assist it in doing that. “Do you think it is stuck here on this planet?” I asked Lamb, who immediately shook his head 32 yes like he didn't have to think about it. “If it wasn't stuck here, it would have left here by now.” Lamb said as if he was sure. And I had to suppose that he was right. I asked myself what the alien could gain from us being stuck on the planet, but I kept being distracted by the overwhelming feeling that we had more to gain from him than he did from us. “This might be it's new home, and it has lost all of it's people. It has lost it's status of being powerful and controlling. If it is anything like a human, it is probably vulnerable right now. Maybe we can feed it and give it water?” Lamb suggested I was confused as to what exactly he was saying. Knowing him as well as I did, I could only assume that he was vaguely insinuating that we starve the creature until it answered. “Are you suggesting that we starve the Nebnar to get answers?” I asked him, and he shrugged as if the thought had crossed his mind. I looked at the creature, who sat quietly watching us. I really wanted to know if it could hear my voice or not. “Would you like another pretzel?” I asked it, but it did not respond to me. “Do you think that it can hear us?” I asked Lamb. “I am not sure. It doesn't appear to respond to sound, but that could all be an act.” Lamb said, moving behind the alien. He messed with his phone for a moment, and then played a loud air horn sound from it. The Nebnar did not so much as flinch. “It appears that it does not hear. Either that or it is really good at hiding it's surprise.” Lamb concluded, and he wrote a note about his observation on a small notepad as if he were going to forget it. I wrote 'Can you hear?' and I held it up for the Nebnar to see. It touched one of what looked like it's ears, and then it began to write it's answer. 'As you can see, one of my ears was formed wrong, and it does not function. My other ear works as it should, but it can only detect certain frequencies.' I shook my head to let it know I understood. I thought hard about what I should ask it next. I figured that since it appeared okay with answering questions about itself, the best thing to do was stay on it for awhile. Using the sharpie I wrote 'How did you get left behind?' After reading the message, the Nebnar let out two short bleats, and I wondered if the sound was it's way of crying. It began to write, and it's head blushed slightly as it did. Lamb and I watched as it crafted a large written message. 'I am an outcast among the Nebnar because there are flaws in my form. I am a disgrace, so I spend my days away from my society, working as a tracking chip compliance officer for the museum. I travel to different planets that we have been at, and I retrieve seals that have been removed from any of our letters or stationary. When I teleported down to Earth to collect the chip, the dome ship had taken off, and I was not able to teleport back. Because I am an outcast, no one will come back for me .' “That is a very interesting story.” Lamb remarked upon reading the message. “Conway, do you think that it is telling us the truth?” I laughed at Lamb's question. “It makes sense to me based on what I have seen.” I replied. And yet it's story was so ironic. It was outcast for having malformations, and yet it was not hideous and terrifying to us like the rest of the Nebnar. Lamb held up his question 'What do you think of the Belfarians?' and the creature paused before responding. It looked at Lamb as if it were analyzing him. It wrote 'I told you about the Belfarians. They are powerful and mighty. If you are looking for me to tell you how to stop them from taking over the planet, I am not sure how. They have had this planet picked out for millions of years, and they are determined to take it over .' 33

“It is the information we need that seems to be the information we are not getting from it.” Lamb said to me, sounding frustrated. “It doesn't know.” I remarked, believing that the creature would not have told me as much as it did if it was going to hold things back. “It told us what it knew, the only way to make the Belfarians stop is to make them not want the planet anymore.” Lamb took a note pad out of his pocket so we could continue our conversation with the Nebnar. He scribbled another question down to show it. 'Why did the Belfarians pick the planet Earth to be Belfaria Two?' The alien responded with ' For it's water, climate, soil, and distance from the sun .' Lamb and I sat silently for a few minutes, the both of us trying to think of what we could possibly do to turn the Belfarians off to the idea of taking over the planet. While we didn't have control over the planet's distance to the sun, we did have some control over water, soil, and air. But how did we ruin those things for the Belfarians without ultimately ruining them for ourselves? “We need to trash the planet more than it already is.” I stated to Lamb “But how can we do it without destroying the planet for us?” Lamb thought only for a split second before he responded. “We have to try. If we let the Belfarians take over, we are dead anyway.” He was absolutely right. Ruining the planet was are only chance at getting the Belfarians to pick some other planet to make their home. If we were lucky, we might be left to live on a really polluted and toxic planet, but at least we would have a planet. “Understood.” I responded. “Now the only question is how do we ruin most of the Earth, and how much time do we have to do it? It sounds like three Earth years to me.” Lamb was deep in thought, racking his brain as he tried to figure out how he was going to launch an all out assault on the Earth's resources. He popped two Advil and he got up and paced around the room a few times. He was lost and desperate to think of a plan. “Do you think the Belfarians can see everything we say and do? If so, plotting against them will probably get us killed.” Lamb asked me as his brain raced. “We are dead anyway otherwise, remember.” I reminded him, and I tried to sound confident in my surrender to the unknown, but the truth was that I was petrified of what the Belfarians would potentially do to us. My brain was working hard, thinking of what could be done to make it unappealing . I thought perhaps Lamb and I could cause several oil spills, but then I didn't feel like that would be enough. In order to accomplish what we needed to in the course of three years, it was going to take more people than Lamb and I to destroy the planet. It was going to take most of the people on the planet to destroy it's resources within the time frame. Every day everyone was littering, driving cars, and creating garbage, but not at the rate they needed to be in order to destroy the planet in three years time. The only chance that we had at getting the Belfarians disinterested in taking over the planet was to do something extreme, and on a massive scale. But that require reshaping society as we knew it. The entire time the Nebnar had controlled Patrick, they had him advocate for a clean Earth. A movement was created, and society had adopted their global responsibility to be Eco-conscience. The Nebnar wanted a clean planet to take control of, just as the Belfarians did. There were no more plastic bags or plastic silverware. Buildings were being constructed of recycled materials, and the whole world had gone green. Most forms of energy had become renewable, and almost no one heated their homes with oil or gas. It seemed like getting society to destroy the Earth would be next to impossible after all the influencing Patrick did. With that thought I got an idea. “Patrick!” I exclaimed. “What if we use Patrick? Maybe we can get the Nebnar to boot back up 34 his computer, and we can use him to get people to litter and pollute the Earth!” Lamb smiled immediately once I had gotten the words out. I could tell that he thought that it was a brilliant idea. He wrote on his pad to the alien 'Do you know how to reboot Patrick's computer?' and then he handed the pad to the Nebnar. 'Yes, but whether or not it can be done depends on the condition of the host. ' the Nebnar responded. Lamb flipped open his cell phone and called Johnston, who I could hear on the other end. “I need you to bring him here. Discharge him. Don't ask questions.” Lamb ordered and then he flipped his phone shut. The location of our secret warehouse was no longer a secret between us. As we waited for Johnston to arrive with Patrick, Lamb was struggling to think of what we could exchange for the rebooting of Patrick's computer. He began to speak out loud. “What do we offer the creature? Maybe we can give it a home, or some food. Or maybe we could offer to get it plastic surgery to make it's ears even.” I wasn't sure if Lamb's proposals were dumb or not. The only way we were going to know was to come out and ask the creature. Carefully I thought out how to present a proposal to the alien. When I finished writing it, I showed it to Lamb. He read it over a few times silently, and then he showed it to the creature. 'We would like to take control of Patrick's computer, and get it running again. What can we give you in exchange for restoring Patrick's computer?' The alien was quick to begin writing a response to the question, and it was quite long. We waited to see what it had written with great suspense. It's message showed what a good negotiator it was. ' I will make a deal with you providing an attempt to reboot the computer, so as to not let me waste my effort on something that doesn't benefit me. There is a chance that the host has been to compromised by programming to be rebooted. If too much of the host has come to rely on the computer, than the host will lose it's ability to unconsciously perform vital functions regardless of updates or software installations. You only have my attempt, and not my guarantee. I will reboot the computer if you give me all of the microchips from the messages that have been delivered to you by the Nebnar .' I couldn't see what the harm in giving the chips to it was, but that was because I really didn't understand much about it. I looked at Lamb to see what he made of the request. “It is asking us to do something that we can do, and we have no use for the chips that we know of.” I pointed out. “Yes Conway, right you are. But lets not hand them over right away. Let's see what it does with Patrick first, and then we will hand them over.” Lamb suggested. I didn't know what we should do. The Nebnar may not be willing to wait for the microchips. In a way we were at it's mercy. If it demanded the chip in order to fix Patrick's computer, we would have to hand them over. I doubted that Lamb was going to push the creature too far. He was still afraid of it to some degree, even if it were different than the others. “Let's try it, but we will have to see what happens. I am going to try not to anger it. It appears to be cooperative so far.” I remarked. As we waited for Patrick to arrived we dwelled in awkward silence. I wanted to jot down so many questions for the Nebnar, but I held myself back. Further exchange of information was not a part of the agreement, and I didn't want to bombard it with inquiries. The main focus was on preventing the Earth from becoming the new Belfaria, and not on enlightenment. I could only hope, however, that enlightenment was possible at some point. I couldn't imagine being stuck for the rest of my life with 35 such a narrow understanding of the universe. The Nebnar sat quietly the whole time. It's head had gone back to it's usual gray, and it appeared relaxed. The silence and the waiting did not make it anxious, and it appeared patient as it waited for Patrick to arrive. It looked around the room every so often, scanning the doorway to see if the host had yet come. I assumed that because it was not able to hear anyone, that it was reliant on it's eyes to determine when they entered. It's checks were frequent and consistent. When Patrick finally did arrive, he came in a wheelchair pushed by Johnston, who's finger was braced and bandaged. Patrick had become paralyzed in the absence of the computer program, and could no longer move his arms and legs. He could also no longer control his bowels anymore, and was incontinent. Lamb and I could only hope that the damage was not so extensive that Patrick was too far gone to reboot. If he started to lose his vital functions than we would know that the worse case scenario had happened. But even if Patrick could still be rebooted, we had no idea what to do once he was rebooted. We were not certain of how to program him to encourage littering, or how to program speeches into his memory banks. We did not know how to update his software, or why it was necessary to drill into his head. There was a chance that Patrick would be revived, but it wouldn't do us any good. I couldn't bare the thought of it, so I tried to push it out of my mind. As Lamb and I examined Patrick, we saw that he was mute and brain dead. His eyes were crossed and he drooled from the left side of his mouth. It was clear that he had been wrecked by his reliance on the computer. It was morbid and disturbing to see Patrick in such a state. When the program was uploaded, he appeared virtually perfect, and brimming with intelligence. What he had become on his own after years of letting the computer take over his brain, was the polar opposite of what he appeared to be when it was active. “Has Patrick been breathing okay?” Lamb asked Johnston, seeking out Patrick's vital function status. Johnston frowned before answering, in acknowledgment of Patrick's severe decline. “I haven't noticed breathing problems, but there is no one home upstairs. He appears to not understand language any longer. He has also lost the ability to use a bathroom, and he is now wearing adult diapers.” Lamb shook his head as he thought of the horrific transformation. “Can he at least feed himself ?” he asked Johnston. “He can still swallow normally, but he does not make an effort to chew his food anymore. Everything he eats is liquified. He also eats very quickly, and he would likely aspirate on solid foods if he attempted to eat them.” My whole body shuttered at Johnston's description. I knew Patrick was retarded, but I didn't realize exactly how bad off he was. I thanked Johnson and sent him away before turning to Lamb. “Wow!” I exclaimed. “Unbelievable. One minute Patrick is the most powerful and influential man alive, and the next minute he can't use the bathroom or feed himself. He has less IQ then a gold fish, and he is useless and helpless. Nothing is worth this, I don't care how much power he had.” After I spoke the room grew quite, and I stood there feeling sick. I thought about the words that had just exited my mouth, and remembered back to when I was clueless about Patrick. I thought he was just nearly perfect like everyone else did. I didn't think that he was too good to be true, and therefore probably wasn't. But what other explanation would I have come up with? I never would have assumed that he was being programmed by aliens to appear super human. The thought of something like that seemed crazy to me at the time, and I was completely in the dark without even knowing it. I reminded myself that the change was so extreme because it was never really Patrick behind the greatness. But 36 still I was struck by the severity of the switch. Lamb began to write a message to the Nebnar, and he showed it to me for my input before he presented it to the alien. It read 'Do you think that Patrick can be rebooted?” I couldn't think of a better way to ask, so I nodded my approval. Once Lamb had my input, he went and presented the note to the Nebnar. The Nebnar took a moment to observe Patrick, who wasn't doing much other than drooling on himself. After several minutes, the alien began writing. It paused several times to watch Patrick, and then it wrote more. When it finished it's message, it handed it to Lamb. 'The host appears to be heavily compromised, and it is going to take a full system restore for the host to function. I am not confident that the reboot will be successful, but I won't know until I run the reboot software and see what features are listed. There is a high probability that the host will not have the ability to run certain programs, as the organic brain tissue has been compromised by the electrical current from the computer's switch. It is possible that basic functions like speaking and facial recognition will not be efficient enough to fill the gaps . Shall we proceed ? I need to know that I am going to receive all of the chips. ' That was not the news we wanted to hear, but I honestly wasn't surprised. Patrick was almost a vegetable. I felt like only a miracle would allow the computer to return him to a functioning state. But there was nothing else for Lamb and I to try. Using Patrick to influence all of the Earth's people was the only way we would possibly succeed in turning the Belfarians off to a planetary take over. “We need to give it the chips.” I told Lamb. “We don't have a choice. We have no idea what else we can possibly due, and the help of this alien is our best bet in saving the planet.” Lamb knew that I was right, and he turned to go fetch all of the letters that the Nebnar had sent us, leaving me alone with the alien. He was gone for several minutes. It seemed like he was taking longer than he should to return, but that could have been because it was the first time I was left alone with the alien. I split my attention between Patrick and the Nebnar, looking at one and then the other. I wished that the scene was just a still frame from a nightmare, and that any second I would wake up in a different existence. No matter how long I had been exposed to the horror of the truth, it often seemed to grim to be real. When Lamb returned with the letters, the Nebnar perked up as it noticed them in his hand. It was clear to Lamb and I by the aliens increased alertness that it was quite happy to be getting the chips. Lamb turned to me before he handed over the letters. “By handing these articles over, I am basically erasing the history of the Nebnar from this planet. Is that why it wants all of these chips?” Lamb asked me. While I thought his point was interesting, I was more focused on trying to get Patrick up and running. It almost seemed like Lamb and I were switching roles, like he was becoming philosophical and I was becoming attentive. I needed to bring the focus back to Patrick's program, and on our end of the deal. “It doesn't matter, right Lamb? Our focus is not on preserving the history of the Nebnar on Earth. It is to try and get Patrick to function enough to control the people again.” I reminded him. With extreme reluctantly Lamb handed over the stack of letters, not knowing what else to do. The Nebnar took the papers in it's slender fingers, and quickly tucked them away inside of it's long robe. It then grabbed the pen that it had been writing with and reached out to Lamb for his notebook. Lamb handed it over, and the Nebnar started writing. The message that it crafted said what we could never have imagined. 'Now I will try to reboot the computer. You will need to grant me access to it. I have the drill that will open up the head plate, but you will need to operate the drill for me. Part of my deformation is 37 that I have weak hands .' The Nebnar handed over the message and it waited for us to read it. Once it saw that we both had, it pulled a large drill from it's pocket that had a strange bit on the end of it, shaped like a triangle. The entire drill was black and appeared to be made out of some type of shiny metal. On the side of the tool was a red switch that lit up, and next to the switch appeared to be some type of gauge that appeared almost as if it measured depth. The tool was absolutely terrifying to look at, and I assumed that it was the drill that I had heard so many times before when we had brought Patrick to the Nebnar for updates. The Nebnar placed the drill down on a crate that was next to it, and then slid the crate over to Lamb and I, offering up the tool for us to use. “Oh God! I don't know Lamb. I don't think I can do this.” I said, as I looked over at Patrick hunched down in the chair, staring blankly at the wall. I could tell by his gloomy expression that Lamb was feeling the same way. Having to assist the creature was not what we had in mind. We were not surgeons, and we struggled enough with the computer tune ups without having to see anything. Hearing and smelling it was horrid enough. “I hear you Conway.” Lamb muttered as he tried to stop his hands from shaking. “But what choice do we have? We came this far, and we have already handed it all of the letters. There is no turning back now.” And while I knew that he was right, I couldn't even fathom myself in the act of drilling into Patrick's head. I lifted the drill in my hand. I could feel that it was heavy, and I could understand why the Nebnar was unable to use it having weak hand strength. I flicked on the red glowing switch, and the bit began to whirl. The room filled with the familiar and menacing sound that I had grown to hate. The gauge had illuminated as if to indicate that it was prepared to begin measurement. Feeling light headed, I switched off the switch, and I sat the drill back down on the crate. A wave of dizziness came over me, and my vision went blurry. For a second I could feel myself falling forward, and then I blacked out.

7 When my eyes opened, I could see that Lamb was standing over me, fanning me with his notebook. I was laid out on the floor where I had fallen. I could feel that blood was pooling into my forehead, forming a large egg from the impact. Slowly I sat up and tried to get oriented again. “Sorry.” I apologized to Lamb, who appeared to be both irritated and petrified. “Conway. I need you to get with it. You are useless to me if you are on the floor. We need to 38 just do it.” My head was pounding and a part of me wanted to cry. I took a deep breath in and tried to suck it up. I rose from the floor, and regained my balance. Once I was steady on my feet, Lamb motioned me to join him, as he grabbed up the drill and walked over toward Patrick. Taking his notepad back out from his pocket, he asked the Nebnar 'How should the drill be used?'. The Nebnar took the notebook, and wrote out the steps that we would need to take in order to grant it access to Patrick's computer. It numbered each of the steps, and it did not have to pause to think about anything it wrote. I wondered how simple of a concept or task it was for the Nebnar to implant and maintain computers within human subjects. Maybe they felt indifferent about it. To them, maybe the whole act was as meaningless as a farmer milking a cow, or a fisherman bating a hook. I couldn't help but wonder what value the Nebnar placed on human life, based on the horrible updates that were required to maintain the computers they implanted in them. When the alien finished, it reached out and handed the notebook back to Lamb. A string of clear goo attached between the Nebnar's slimy hand and the plastic cover of the notebook, until it broke from stretching out. Again, I felt my head grow light, and I braced myself against the crate in case I started fading out again. Lamb began to read the steps out loud. 'Step one, Insert the triangular bit into the port on the side of the host's head. Step two, ensure that the bit is properly lined up with the screw lock. Step three, hold the drill straight up so that the white dot painted on the end of the drill is facing the ceiling. Step four, switch on the drill until the gauge is full. Step five, turn off the drill. Step six: Pull the drill upward and out of the port. Step seven, make a vertical incision along the right hand side of the subdermal panel, and a horizontal incision along the top of the panel. Step eight: fold skin up to allow access to the panel door. Step nine, open the panel door by moving the latch over to the right .' Once Lamb had finished reading the instructions, he wasted no time in grabbing up the drill and moving over to where Patrick was. He studied the area surrounding the chair that Patrick was sitting in. “Conway, grab one of those tarps over by the entrance. This is probably going to be a messy affair.” As Lamb directed I went and got the tarp from the corner of the warehouse room, and I brought it over to where Patrick was seated. I laid the tarp out to the side of Patrick's chair, where I assisted Lamb in positioning him. Most of Patrick's muscles had locked up, and it was a challenge to try and position him on his side so that we could access the port. His entire body was like a piece of petrified wood, and it was next to impossible to bend his limbs in any way. After several minutes of struggling, we managed to get him on his side as best we could, with the port facing up. Lamb and I put on latex gloves. “Okay, Conway. That is as good as it gets.” Lamb stated, looking down at Patrick's contorted position on the floor. “Let's get on with it.” Lamb lifted the heavy drill upright, and lined up the bit with the port on the side of Patrick's head. Once he was in line with it, he moved the bit forward into the port, until he felt it lock into position. “I think it is locked in.” Lamb told me, and he swallowed hard as he frowned. “Hold him Conway. I am not sure what this is going to do to him.” I put my hands on Patrick's shoulders so I could hold him still for Lamb. I didn't have to worry about his arms and legs flailing, but I needed to ensure that he would stay in position while the drilling 39 was taking place. I tightened my fingers around his shoulders, and I hesitated to give Lamb the go ahead. I told myself there was no other way over and over. Lamb grew tired of waiting. “Conway, I am starting.” he informed me, and immediately after he spoke, the sound of the drill began to echo off of the walls. I held Patrick tighter as his frozen frame began to shift from the downward weight of the drill. He did not move or make any sound, and as I looked at his face, it appeared as though he was not aware of what was going on. The gauge on the drill lit up once again, and the meter began slowly climbing. The familiar smell of scorched flesh and burnt electronics began to rise up from the port as the drill created friction. My stomach started churning and I turned away to heave. “I hate that smell!” I exclaimed to Lamb, who was also having a hard time dealing with it. He to turned away while trying to ensure that he kept the drill in the appropriate position. Finally, the gauge had grown full, and we could see that the drill had caused the square subdermal door to elevate underneath his skin, revealing the lines where the incisions should be made. Lamb pulled the drill up and out of the port, which immediately started to bleed. I took a wad of gauze from the first aid kit we had handy, and I applied pressure to the port to try to stop the bleeding. After several minutes, it had appeared to have clotted. It was time to move on to the incisions, which was the part that I was dreading the most. I took a sharp and sterile razor from the kit, and I attempted to hand it to Lamb. “This is your turn Conway. I did the drilling, and now you will do the cutting.” Lamb explained his logic to me. “We didn't make that deal.” I fired back. Lamb shook his head at me. “I suppose you wanted me to do everything then? The drilling and the cutting?” Despite his words, Lamb knew well that the cutting was more gruesome than the drilling, and that is why he left the task for me. I could feel that my head was pounding and swelling, and I needed a moment to sit down and recuperate, or I was going to pass out again. I was in no shape to argue with him. I approached Patrick with the razor, and prepared myself for what I was about to do. I thought about the frog I had dissected in my biology class, and I tried to pretend that Patrick was the frog. Psyching myself up, I placed the razor inside the indent, and I dragged it across and then down, leaving a bubbling trail of blood behind the sharp blade. Lamb followed my cut with the gauze and sopped up some of the blood. “I suppose I get the pleasure of flipping up his skin too?” I questioned Lamb, who replied by lifting the corner of the incision with the gauze, revealing the panel lid underneath Patrick's skin. It reminded me of the battery door of a remote control car, and I could clearly see the latch that had to be moved. It went without saying that moving the latch was my responsibility as Lamb was holding the skin out of the way. I reached over quickly, and tried to avoid making contact with anything other than the door latch. I moved it over to the right, and the panel door popped open, revealing a circuit board underneath, which fed an intricate network of wires through his brain and his face. It was as if he were more human on the outside than he was on the inside. The Nebnar came over from where it had been watching us in the corner, once it saw that we had the door open and accessible. It took over holding the gauze from Lamb, and it chased me out from where I was standing. It appeared to insert a tiny chip inside of a slot that was located on the circuit board, and then it shut the panel door. It allowed the skin to fall back over the panel, and then it moved away and pointed to the port hole again, signaling the need to lower the panel back into his head. We assumed that there must have been some type of mechanism on the drill that would allow it to spin in reverse. After studying the switch we discovered that pushing the switch twice put the tool into reverse. Lamb again used the drill while I held Patrick in place, and the circuit board lowered until 40 it was again flush with his skull. I thought for a moment that we would need to sew Patrick back up, but to my surprise the Nebnar came over with some type of laser and sealed the wounds shut with it. All that was left were tiny little incision lines on the side of Patrick's face. The Nebnar pulled something else from it's pocket, which resembled a remote control of some kind. It held the device up in the air, and pointed the end of it toward Patrick's head. Suddenly Patrick began to twitch everywhere as if there was electricity running through his limbs. He began to adopt a flat position as his arms and legs were freed from their immobile state. Then, startling both Lamb and I, Patrick began to yell very loudly, and to move his eyes around in circles. It looked almost as if he were in agony. He began to wiggle his fingers, and his tongue began to pop in and out of his mouth. A long string of disconnected speech came trailing out, but it did not sound the same as it had in previous updates. It sounded like his voice was skipping, and that different languages were getting jumbled all together. My heart jumped excitedly as I thought Patrick was broken beyond repair. For several minutes the strange sounds and facial expressions continued, until a green light began to flash on the end of the alien's remote device. The Nebnar headed the signal and put the remote back in his robe pocket. He turned to Lamb and I and reached his hand out for the pad. The message it wrote said 'The reboot has completed. Several language programs have been destroyed, as well as Patrick's ability to access the cloud. It appears that he has retained most of his primary language, but that some of his emotional regulation programs have been compromised. The host is not reliable .' I tried to put the creature's report into perspective. It looked like Patrick was running through more of the system reboot process, and that Lamb and I were going to have to wait until the process finished before we would have a first hand look at what was left of Patrick. The anticipation was practically unbearable. 'How much longer do we need to wait before the reboot is finished?' I wrote it. And the Nebnar responded with ' One Earth day '. We prepared to sit tight with Patrick, just as we had done so many times before. But what made it different was that the Nebnar did not suck up into a beam, or fly off in a dome. It was still with us, and Lamb and I began to wonder exactly what it was going to do being unable to beam back up into the dome. “It is still here, and I think it is stuck here.” I said to Lamb Lamb agreed with me and nodded. “Yes, Conway. It would appear that it is. Which might be good for us, as we have no idea how to operate or maintain Patrick's computer. We would just again have to figure out what else we can offer it in exchange for it's assistance.” Silent minutes passed awkwardly as the Nebnar sat quietly, looking at Lamb and I with a blank expression. I imagined that it might have been thinking the same way we were, trying to think of something to offer up in exchange for assistance. It needed us just as badly as we needed it. Lamb and I knew that we could physically overpower the creature, so it was no longer physically intimidating. And being that it was malformed, it did not appear terrifying like the others. The only thing it really appeared able to do was project some type of toxic slime from it's forehead when it became highly agitated. While the goo was effective, it was only going to get the alien so far. It seemed that a lack of food and water prohibited it from spewing the toxic slime. “Food. We can likely bribe it with food. I mean it needs to eat right? And it is not like it can just stroll into the supermarket and grab something. It can't go out in public without being shot.” I said to Lamb. And I knew before Lamb even said a word that he was going to have reservations about using 41 food as leverage. He seemed fearful of it expelling a secretion, and he had eluded to starving it earlier. Lamb immediately protested. “No Conway, don't feed it whatever you do! It will probably kill us with the next thing it pukes up!” Lamb exclaimed. I looked at the Nebnar as it sat in the chair quietly. I wondered if it was feeling lost and unsure of what to do. I felt like befriending it was the wisest thing to do, as there was really nothing else to do. If the Belfarians were going to take over the planet within the next three years, then we had nothing else to try. We were only just beginning to understand the Nebnar when the Belfarians came into the picture. Our ignorance was our worst enemy, and I was ready to stop running from what I did not know. “Sorry Lamb.” I remarked. “But I think based on our ignorance, taking a risk is really our only option. We need the creature to operate the computer, remember? We have to get it to agree to assist us in doing so. All we know at this point in time is that we have pretzels, and it appears to like to eat pretzels.” I was completely convinced in my mind that feeding the Nebnar would only improve the situation, and for the first time in my career as a shadow agent, I defied Lamb's order. I was working under a sense of urgency, and I could see a decline in Lamb's rationality. I decided to go with my gut, and I began to write up a proposal for the Nebnar. “What are you doing Conway?” Lamb asked me with anxiety. “I am going to make a deal with this alien. It is the only thing that can possibly help at this point. And no one but the three of us is in on it” I informed him. 'We want to make another deal. We will provide food and water to you if you assist us in programming Patrick's computer. We want to encourage people to destroy the planet.' I wrote to it. I waited for it to look over the message, and then I pulled the bag of pretzels out from my pocket. While it claimed to have regain energy after consuming one pretzel, I could tell that it was still extremely hungry. It perked up when it saw the bag, and it fixed it's beady black eyes on it. It's tiny mouth opened slightly. It struggled to pry it's attention away from the pretzels and to write out a reply. As it wrote, a strange growling noise could be heard coming from it's head. It resembled the sound of a stomach growling. 'I am willing to assist while I am here in exchange for a daily ration of food consisting of the following: 30mg of magnesium, 30mg of iron, 30mg of folic acid, and 30mg of sodium. I will exchange a meal for one Earth day's work .' “It is a particular eater.” I said to Lamb as I looked over the pretzel label to see how much of what the alien asked for was in it. Lamb did not respond. I could tell he was upset that I had overrode him, but in reality, he had no idea what we should do. He sat silently thinking while I left to scout out food that would meet the Nebnar's specifications. As I walked through the empty warehouse, I looked up the nearest grocery store on my phone. It was about twenty five miles away from where we were. I did not have time to travel that far. I next searched out the nearest gas station, which was about ten miles away. While it was still far off, it was the closest thing I would be able to reach by car. I sent Lamb a text message to let him know where I would be going, and I pinpointed the location on a virtual map for him. Then, I exited the warehouse, and made way to the outer garage. The sky was beginning to grow dark, and the sun was setting. I realized that I would be driving in the pitch black dark as I returned. We were out in the middle of nowhere, and there were no lights to illuminate the way. I thought about how I was going to have to use my high beams the entire way back. 42

As I made my way to the dark SUV, I felt uneasy, almost like the Belfarians were watching me. I wondered if they were aware of our dealing with the Nebnar. Were they just sitting back and waiting until they felt like stepping in? Our perhaps they already knew that we would not succeed? I wanted most to believe that there were moments where the Belfarians weren't watching us, whether by choice or not. The people of the world had come to worry about the government infringing on their privacy, but what they didn't realize was that it was not their fellow humans they had to worry about. It was the alien races from other worlds that were ultimately the prying eyes looking down. They were a larger threat than any group of humans, as they wanted to take over the planet. I couldn't help but wonder how many more alien races there might have been out there, potentially eyeballing the Earth as their new planetary home. While the Belfarians appeared to be the most ancient and powerful, there could have been races even mightier than them, for all I knew. I reached the car and threw myself into it. I slammed shut the door and secured myself in. A large part of me felt uneasy about driving alone. Quickly, I started the car and made my way to the open road. Once I was on the road, I began to speed ahead, traveling around eighty miles per hour, having the whole road to myself. At the end of the long and winding road of the compound, I reached the main road, which was also barren. I accelerated speed, trying to reach the store as fast as I could. It dawned on me as I traveled that I was going to look quite suspect arriving in my suit and tie, and buying a huge stack of snacks. But I reminded myself that such concerns were the least of my problems. The drive started to feel to quite, and I decided to switch on the radio. It was tuned to a talk show that was discussing how Ben had punched Patrick in the face, and then the two both magically disappeared. I listened and felt greatly disturbed by the ignorance of the people talking. It bothered me how people spoke like they knew the truth, when in reality, they had no idea. “This is definitely a publicity stunt by the two men. How else could any of this be explained? But what doesn't make sense to me is what they are hoping to gain from it. The whole incident didn't really make any sense, and it didn't portray either of them in a positive light. I mean Patrick was suppose to be a black belt, but he didn't appear to be able to defend himself against Ben what so ever. And Ben is suppose to be an advocate for world peace. How does he look good by punching Patrick in the face?” As I listened to the man, I shook my head at how little he knew, but I really couldn't blame him. I would be thinking the same way in the shadow of my ignorance, and I would ask the same questions in search of my own answers. I thought of how much more enlightened than him I was, and yet I still knew absolutely nothing in terms of the universe. A sign on the side of the road clued me in to the fact that the store was a half a mile up ahead. I shut off the radio, deciding to make the rest of the drive in silence. Soon I saw the store in the distance, and when I arrived there, I parked in the space farthest away from the building. I wanted to be tucked in the corner as much as possible, even though I would exit the vehicle and walk inside the store. The store was very small, and to my disappointment, did not carry that much variety. I was going to need to send Johnston out for more food, but I needed to make due with whatever was there for the time being. While we were getting Patrick into a presentable state, we had agreed to keep the other agents out of our affairs with the Nebnar. It seemed best if only Lamb and I negotiated and interacted with the creature, just as we had been doing. The same reasons that prevented knowledge of the Nebnar before, still held true. We needed to maintain secrecy, even in the face of uncertainty. I walked up to the counter and addressed a young boy, who looked worried when I informed him that I would be buying out his stock. He informed me that the supply trucks would not be returning for several days, as if I would decide not to purchase as much. As he rang me up, the kid became 43 jittery. “You must be in a hurry to have to buy up a quick supply of food inside this gas station, in the middle of nowhere. Where are you headed, stranger?” he asked me. But I didn't have time for small talk with him. The fate of the planet was wrapped up in those snacks, and I had to get back to Lamb. “I am sorry.” I replied. “I don't converse with strangers. And yes, I am in a hurry. If you don't mind...” He looked at me puzzled, as if I owed him an explanation. I left with my arms loaded up with tall paper bags. The back of the SUV filled with chips, crackers, nuts, and jerkies that would add up to what the creature needed. The ride back was darker than I thought it would be. I was in no hurry to deal with the alien, but for some reason I was anxious to arrive. When I reached the warehouse, the walk into the building seemed much longer with my arms full of stuff. In the entry way of the door there was a tiny wooden wagon, which I used to transport the food to where Lamb and the Nebnar were waiting with Patrick. When I entered the room it was like they were exactly where I had left them, only Patrick was no longer a stiff board but appeared to have relaxed muscles. He also appeared to have stopped drooling on himself. “How are things?” I asked Lamb, who pointed at the mellowing Patrick. Patrick appeared to have improved, but it was hard to tell how much. All would be determined when he had finished rebooting. That was still hours away. The Nebnar's eyes locked in on the food contained within the wagon, and it's head began to growl. It was clear to me that the creature had been starving, and that we were correct in assuming that the stomach was in the head. The head growled and the Nebnar held it's head like it was aching with a type of hunger pain. Lamb lit up making an observation of how hungry the alien was. “Food is going to be a very powerful motivator. Let's be sure to use it's motivation to our advantage.” Lamb remarked as he observed the aroused and needy creature. “It also puts us at risk, as the Nebnar has admitted that food will allow him to gain enough strength to kill us with a toxic secretion.” But there was nothing we could do but go with it, and Lamb and I had already decided that our only slim chance of succeeding in our quest was to go full steam ahead with a come what may attitude. I was just going to feed the thing, and hope and pray that it wouldn't kill me if I did. “I would rather be killed by the Nebnar trying to save Earth from the Belfarians than to simply give up and let the Belfarians kill me” I explained to Lamb, who sat quiet as he could not argue with my point. I began to pick an assortment of items from the cart, and I handed them to the Nebnar. It was given a package of pistachios, sandwich cookies, a mini bag of tortilla chips, and an ice cream bar. Gladly accepting the packages, the Nebnar stretched out it's slender hands, and I dumped the items into them. The creature drew in the items, and it immediately went for the package of nuts. But it could not open them. It held up the package and showed it to Lamb and I, communicating that it required assistance open it. The creature threw the package to me. Catching it, I felt a bit squeamish about the slime that the Nebnar's hand had left on the outer packaging. Not only did it make me slightly sick, but it also made the package slippery and harder to open. My fingers slid against the plastic, and I was not able to get a firm grip on the package. I ended up using my pocket knife to open it. Reluctantly, I handed the package over to the alien, and I watched as it dumped out a handful into it's palm. Using it's long fingers, it picked up the nuts one by one, and popped them into it's mouth. It appeared to chew like a human would chew, and when it's mouth opened, it appeared to have teeth. 44

But when it swallowed, it appeared to send the food up into it's head, instead of down into it's stomach. I turned away so I wouldn't get sick. For several minutes it ate the nuts, and then it made a short bleat and appeared to belch. Lamb and I looked at each other in surprise. We could only hope that it was a good sign. Another stack of paper had been given to the creature so it could further communicate. It grabbed a sheet and began to write to us. We were fearful to see what it would say after having eaten. Would it tell us that it was now strong enough to kill us? Lucky for us it had written about our deal. 'In exchange for the nourishment, I will begin designing a program for the host that will cause him to advocate for the destruction of the planet. I am developing it outside of the Galactic Server so the Belfarians will not detect it. They only search outside the server for programs that they recognize as a threat to them. But it will be weaker being stored on my personal server. It will not be as complex or as large as Patrick's original program, which was on the galactic server .' It only made sense that there would be servers in space, separate from the human created servers on the Earth, but Lamb and I were still fascinated to hear it. It appeared that the Nebnar used computer technology way more than humans did, to the point where they had their own servers for personal use. The Nebnar pulled a tiny device from it's robe which I assumed was some type of mini computer. It began to type a message to us on the device. “It will take me time to design the program, possibly several days. I will begin designing it now.” The Nebnar appeared to start working on the hand held device, and it's attention was fixed on it. I felt like it would keep it's end of the bargain. It appeared to have done what it said it would, up to that point. The night dragged on for Lamb and I. The Nebnar continued to design the program, and Patrick remained asleep. Finally, Patrick opened his eyes the following day. He looked around the room as if he were trying to formulate where he was. A spark had returned to him. He looked up at me with a mortified look on his face. “What has happened to me?” he asked, somehow able to remember that he was better off before. Neither one of us was sure of how to answer his question. We didn't want him to get to upset and raise his blood pressure, which would result in his computer heating. Finally I replied after thinking carefully. “Patrick, we are fixing your programming. Your old program failed, so it is gone. That is why you might feel different.” Patrick jerked his head forward and made a strange sound like a dog barking. He began to touch his face. I wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed like a bad sign. He covered his eyes and stood in place, blocking everything from his view. “Oh boy.” I said to Lamb. “This is a problem.”

8 Patrick refused to budge, and he stood in place with his hands over his eyes. I could only imagine what must have been going on in his mind. Somehow Lamb and I had to convince him to leave the corner, but we had no idea how. We tried calling his name. We tried gently nudging him. We tried bribing him with food. Nothing was working. He acted like a scared turtle hiding in it's shell. And as we attempted to convince Patrick to uncover his eyes and join us, the Nebnar looked on 45 and observed the whole thing. It did not offer any tips or opinions, remaining a silent witness. I had hoped that the alien would give us some kind of analysis once Patrick was awake, but it was letting us see for ourselves. “Maybe he needs time.” Lamb remarked, and he patted Patrick's shoulder. I hoped he was right. I decided I was going to ask the Nebnar for it's opinion on Patrick, and I wrote 'What do you think about the host?' I showed it to Lamb, who shrugged. He had come to terms with his ignorance, as he was swept away by the truth. I knew that he was done planning and controlling. It was pointless to do anything other than hold up our part of the deal with the Nebnar. I held up the message and showed it to the creature, who seemed more than willing to answer. What it wrote in it's reply was beyond disappointing to us. The majority of Patrick's brain abilities had been destroyed. 'The organic brain has maintain the ability to sustain vital functions. All other aspects of the host have been compromised or destroyed. Recognition software and pairing software are not functional, and the primary language program is the only one that remains mostly intact. Accessing information from the cloud is not possible. An eighty percent reduction in immediate recall has been detected. The host will exhibit a significant delay in perceived intelligence. There are likely other impairments yet to be detected. They will not be immediately evident until the host has been observed .' Lamb and I were quiet, morning the once functional Patrick. Based on what the creature had described, it would be next to impossible to use Patrick to sway the masses. We looked over at Patrick, still holding his palms over his eyes, a pathetic sight indeed. The Nebnar took it's tiny computer back out and appeared to hit a button on the screen. Out of a slot, the computer ejected what appeared to be a very tiny microchip. The alien took the chip in it's hand and held it out for me to take. I grabbed it out of it's slippery palm and then quickly drew my hand back. Next it pulled what looked like some type of syringe from it's pocket, and handed it to Lamb. It then wrote us another message. 'The chip contains the program I have agreed to design. Place the chip inside of the syringe, and inject it into the port on the side of the host's head. ' As much as I wasn't crazy about sticking needles into Patrick's head, I preferred that over slicing him open. I carefully gave the chip to Lamb, who had already found where it needed to be placed inside of the high tech syringe. He ran his thumb once over the rubber red button that appeared to be the mechanism that administered the injection. Then he walked over to Patrick, who hadn't budged at all. Lining up the syringe with the port, Lamb pressed the button, and I saw the tiny chip zip threw the syringe and into Patrick's head, via way of the port. Patrick jolted and his hands fell from over his eyes. Straight ahead he stared, and the computer began to run. Then, the running stopped, and we assumed that the program had been installed. We waited anxiously for Patrick to say or do something. Patrick looked to the left and to the right, studying Lamb and I for a moment. Than he said in a very robotic type voice “Hello Lamb. Hello Conway.”, and all human qualities were gone. It became clear that no one was going to be fooled by the program, and that Patrick was nothing more than a machine, housed inside of a human body. While his organs still functioned and his heart remained beating, he was void of intelligence and humanism. He would never be able to pass for what he did before. “His voice.... this is never going to convince anyone of anything. He is useless.” Lamb concluded, and he walked out of the room leaving me alone with Patrick and the Nebnar. I knew that Lamb was right, but I refused to give up hope. I jotted down a question for the 46

Nebnar. ' Is there a way to make his voice less robotic?' I asked it, and it pulled the computer back out from his robe and began to type something. Patrick looked back over at me and smiled. “Hello Conway.” he said again, this time sounding very much like his old self again. 'Much better' I wrote, and I assumed that because the creature could not hear, that it was not aware of how Patrick sounded. I walked up to Patrick and attempted to engage him in conversation. “Hello Patrick. Tell me how you feel about the state of the planet.” I requested. Taking a moment to translate what I had asked, I could see that Patrick was indeed running without an organic brain like the Nebnar had reported. His own brain could not understand and form speech. It was all up to the computer. “The Earth is doing well, and the climate is just going through natural climate cycles. There is very little to no evidence to support global warming or climate change. Our liberties are being infringed upon because of this nonsense.” I was quite impressed with Patrick's answer. It was not choppy and it really sounded like him. But I also knew that it was programmed. There were still issues with his communication. While the voice was better, there was a delay in his response that indicated something was wrong. It made him appear slow, which was the polar opposite of what he use to be. I felt slightly discouraged, but I knew the only thing to do was to press on. I had to get Lamb back in focus, and somehow we had to get Patrick back out into the public eye, and make him believable. Three years was not a lot of time to destroy the planet to the point where the Belfarians weren't interested in taking it over anymore. Even if we could pass Patrick off as himself, we still had to try to influence the masses to the point that the Earth would be a toxic wasteland. As I waited for Lamb to get himself together and return, I asked Patrick more questions to explore his ability to communicate. He remained slow, but somewhat believable. Lamb and I would have to stick with the blood clot story, which would help us to explain the decline. But I worried that he might not be as effective if people viewed him as handicapped instead of super human. It was over an hour before Lamb returned. When he came back, he had a bunch of food for the Nebnar. He had gone from interrogating to bribing as his approach. Desperation was making him less aggressive and more realistic as to how helpless we actually were. “We need to get Patrick out there as much as we can to everyone. He is far from perfect, but we have a way to explain why he is impaired. As for Ben, we don't have to explain what happened to Ben. His body was burned and sucked into the sky. There is no trace of him. We will claim that to the best of our knowledge, Ben just disappeared mysteriously. We can use Agent Johnston to assist us, but he doesn't need to know more than he already does.” I said to Lamb. Lamb agreed with me. He did not demand planning time like he usually did, but instead called his media connections and arranged for a press conference later that night. Time was against us, and we couldn't hesitate. 9 Patrick was the best he could be in the short amount of time we had to work with him. His responses were slow, but when he spoke it was clear and on point. It was important that we did not push the new agenda to hard at first. The whole purpose of this initial interview was to introduce the new Patrick, and to see how the people responded to him. An hour before the conference, Lamb and I sat worrying about how Patrick would perform. We 47 were also uneasy about what the Nebnar wrote to us in exchange for a bag of peanuts. It informed us that once Patrick went on television, there was a good possibility that the Belfarians would notice him, even if his program was not on the Galactic Server. If they happened to be monitoring Earth Satellite transmissions, we would be found out. But our choices were to take a chance at dying, or to sit back and wait for the next three years to willingly die. We put the last minute touches on Patrick, and then we stepped back to look over our work. Patrick was handsome and charming again, but he was anything but sharp. We could only hope that his good looks would serve him well in the absence of his quick wit and intelligence. If we were lucky, they would feel immense pity and empathy seeing him in a compromised state. “He looks good.” Lamb said to me. “But what are we going to do about the Belfarians? If they see us, they are going to kill us. If they don't see us this time, it will only be a matter of time before they do. And what if we get attacked by another one of their hosts the way Patrick was attacked by Ben? We are like sitting ducks.” I tried to think of a reply but nothing came to me. I was distracted by the sounds of the Nebnar crunching on peanuts in back of me. I could just imagine how it's head must have been moving wildly. I tried to bring my focus back to Patrick. “Okay Patrick. Let's go over the speech one more time. Can we do that?” I asked Patrick, and I waited a split second for him to agree. He began to run through his programmed dialogue again. I listened carefully for skips, but none could be detected. I looked at the clock. Patrick was going on the air in twenty minutes. I felt my heart pick up speed, and I could feel it beating inside of my head. The pounding continued until it was time for Patrick to hit the stage. Lamb and I followed behind Patrick, who thankfully could walk again thanks to the rebooting of the program He also had regained control of his bladder and bowel functions, but we had put a diaper on him just in case. I looked at Patrick's backside as he walked to ensure that the tails of his jacket covered him, and that no lumpy diaper could be seen underneath his trousers. His hair had been sprayed to the point where it was not moving, but I looked to make sure it was in place anyway. I was pleased that the port was well covered, and we had done a good job of keeping it hidden from view. The surgery we had performed could no longer be detected, and the small scar lines that were left by the Nebnar's laser had vanished. Knowing that we would need to accompany Patrick, we had left the Nebnar in the warehouse with the remote. The creature was the only one who knew how to work it, so we had no choice but to leave it with him. In exchange for an assortment of crackers and candy bars, the Nebnar had agreed to assist us from the warehouse, watching the event on the television. Lamb and I had locked it into the building with a vending machine worth of snacks. We hoped that it would continue to hold up it's end of the bargain. When Patrick walked out onto the stage, the audience immediately began to cheer. Some even yelled his name. But it all came to an abrupt halt when they realized that something was different about Patrick. He was not wearing his huge smile anymore, and he was not his confident and charismatic self. He appeared gloomy and tired, which was something the people had never seen before. The whole room grew quiet, and all eyes were on Patrick. I felt a wave of panic sweep over me as the silence extended. While Patrick had made his way completely up to the podium, he was not speaking. He just stood staring out at the crowd blankly. The camera bulbs flashed as the world captured his expression. Patrick finally started his speech after several seconds. He began by recapping the incident that happened with Ben, and then he went on to speak about the blood clot and a stroke. The entire audience gasped in shock. 48

The perfect Patrick that the world had come to love and adore was now a slow speaking and slow thinking sloth. His looks were the only thing that remained in place for him, but his looks were not enough to make him as influential as he once was. I could sense that the crowd was in a state of horrified disbelief. Lamb and I decided that we were going to keep it simple to start, and have the conference be on nothing other than Patrick reentering the public eye. He was not going to take any questions, and he was only to speak for five minutes. He finished the dialogue, and he slowly backed away from the podium as he had been programmed. Reporters began shouting “Where is Ben?”, but Patrick turned away from them and went to exit the stage. Lamb and I both walked on each side of him, leading him away as fast as we could. But we did not get very far. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, an invisible force began pushing us back toward the stage. I felt some type of pressure against both of my arms, and I looked down to see that all three of us had our feet sliding across the floor. The force grew greater, and it pushed us back faster, until the three of us slammed into the podium. Patrick folded up like a book, while Lamb and I fell to the floor. I felt throbbing pain throughout my entire back, and the wind had been knocked from me. I couldn't move or do anything as I couldn't breath. Lying there I could hear people screaming, and running to evacuate the auditorium. Then I heard a deep and menacing voice speaking, and I knew that it was the Belfarians. “Your host has been programmed against the formation of New Belfaria, and it's program shall be destroyed. The humans will all be eliminated.” I looked over at Patrick, who was lying on the floor, struggling to breath. He rose up into the air two feet, and a force held him upright. His eyes began to burn with fire, which soon jumped out of the sockets, catching the rest of him on fire. “Conway!” Lamb yelled to me, pulling me up off of the floor. “Let's get out of here!” Lamb and I ran as fast as we could down the corridor and out of the back entrance of the building. We jumped into our SUV and began to speed off. The only place that made any sense at all to go to was back to the alien. It knew more about the Belfarians than we did, and it needed to eat. It would probably be willing to share more information if we kept the food coming, and we were desperate to save our lives. “Do you think that the Belfarians know where we are?” I asked Lamb. “I hope not.” Lamb answered, his voice shaking. We were about six minutes away from the warehouse when the sky filled with dark black clouds, as black as smoke. Long bolts of lighting stretched down from the sky, striking the road and the trees around us. Then, hail began to fall, denting and pelting against our vehicle. Lamb drove faster, doing his best to reach the warehouse without getting us struck. When we arrived, we hesitated before exiting the SUV, bracing ourselves to run out into the hail storm. We looked out the car window as the sky lit up, illuminating the hail balls as they hurled down. Taking in a breath, I pried open the door, and I forced myself out into the chaotic weather. When we reached the warehouse, Lamb had the key ready, but still he had to struggle to unlock the door in the onslaught of ice. He fumbled for the key and struggled to see what he was doing. Finally the warehouse door opened, and we quickly shut ourselves inside. We headed straight for the alien. When we reached it, we could see that it had eaten everything that we had left for it, and was surrounded by piles of empty wrappers. It held the computer in it's hands, and it's head was blushing slightly. It had definitely seen all that went on. Lamb questioned it by writing 'What is happening?' As the Nebnar read his question, the entire warehouse began to shake. It looked on it's computer 49 monitor which showed the podium Patrick had spoken at, charred black from the fire. A thick soot coated the walls, and the sound of sirens went off in the background. He held it up for Lamb and I to see. It pulled away the device and grabbed another piece of writing paper. 'The Belfarians were monitoring the Earth satellite, and they detected Patrick. They decided that now is the time for eliminating the humans from the planet, as humans are getting in the way of the forming of the New Belfaria.' We didn't want to believe what it was telling us, but we could see that Earth was waging war against us. It appeared that the Belfarians had the power to control the weather to attack us unmercifully. Lamb wrote 'Do the Belfarians have control of the weather?' and the Nebnar let out a bleat. It wrote ' The Belfarians have control over everything on Earth, and that is because they created it. ' As I looked at the message, I sat down on the floor of the warehouse and held my head. I didn't feel like I could handle anymore shocking surprises. I wasn't sure what was meant by the Belfarians being the creators of the planet, but I believed that they were. Nothing else could explain the horrific destruction of the world around us. Even though we were housed inside of the monstrous concrete walls of the warehouse, we could hear the hellish weather destroying the world outside. And despite us being in one of the safest buildings we could be, I felt like we were the most unsafe humans alive on the planet. It was Lamb and I who decided that we were going to work directly against the Belfarians and try to use Patrick to pollute their planned future home. I could only imagine what they had in store for us. “Conway.” Lamb called to me from the corner across the room. “What do we do?” My hands shook as I wrote to the Nebnar. 'What should we do?' but the creature did not seemed to have an answer for us. I tried to offer it some chocolate covered peanuts, but it held up it's hand to turn the offering away. Suddenly, something large blew into the side of the building, indenting the wall behind me. Again the whole Earth began shaking, and the hail began pouring down from the sky, smashing against the top of the roof. The thunder rumbled and shook the ground with it's powerful vibrations. Lamb curled into a ball and began to sob. I did not blame him but I felt to afraid to cry. I was more in a state of shock, still trying to rap my head around what was happening. I sat next to the alien, and I could not tell whether or not he was afraid like we were. I had to imagine that he must have been, because even the terrifying Nebnar were not as powerful as the Belfarians. I could see that it's head was still blushing slightly. For several minutes I contemplated whether or not I should ask it if it was worried. I decided that I would. 'Are you afraid?' I wrote 'No. I will be leaving any moment now .' It wrote me 'How?' I asked it, and it took several minutes to write me a detailed message. When it was finished writing, it handed me the notebook and the pen, as if to communicate that it was the last message that it would be writing. Once I had taken both things from it, the alien sat in it's chair as if it were waiting for something. 'The Nebnar will come back for me, as I have the complete set of microchips containing all of the Nebnar's history on this planet. It is very valuable to the Nebnar, and they will want to collect the set before Earth is taken over by the Belfarians. They have messaged me that they will be reaching this galaxy in the next five minutes, and will beam me up to the dome once they are outside this planet's atmosphere .' It all made sense to me as to why the alien asked for what it did. It knew that the Nebnar would 50 not come back for it any other way. It saved itself by fooling Lamb and I into believing that it was programming Patrick to help us, when in reality, it was simply speeding up the Belfarian's destruction of the planet so it could get beamed up. While it warned us that it was possible that the Belfarians would be watching the satellites, it made it seem like we had a chance to go undetected. The truth was we had no chance, and we were stupid to think that we could somehow fool the Belfarians. Bouncing up and down in it's seat, the Nebnar looked as if it were excited. It held it's hand up to the sky, and the violet ray of the Nebnar's teleporter illuminated it's figure, engulfing the creature in a vibrant glow. The Nebnar began to fade into the spectrum of light until it had vanished completely, leaving the horror on Earth behind it. I looked over to see that Lamb appeared to have died of a heart attack. He was pale and stiff on the floor, and his eyes were stuck wide open. As the building shook and shifted, the floor began to split open into a huge pit. Sliding like a puck across ice, Lamb slid over the concrete floor and into the Earth's wide open mouth. I ran against the downward incline of the floor until I was able to grab onto the doorway, and I pulled myself into the hallway. Parts of the ceiling began to fall around me, and I realized that the warehouse was about to be destroyed. I dodged the falling and flaming debris that crashed down in my path, as I made my way for the outside. When I made it out, I looked up at the sky to see that it was a blood red, and that balls of fire were hurling down from the heavens. The black clouds moved in toward one another in all directions, until they met one another to blanket the sky. Nothing could be seen above accept the dooming clouds and the rising smoke. The light from the sun was buried and the air was filled with the smell of sulfur and iron. Then I saw one source of light against the darkness, which I recognized right away. It was the familiar golden glow of the Nebnar dome. It seemed like the Nebnar stopped to look upon the horrific state of the Earth before vanishing into space. After a quick pause, the dome shot across the sky like it had been shot from a sling, and then suddenly ascended toward the heavens, until it disappeared from my view.

51