Submitted for the July 2025 prompt: Aliens Among Us

Her blond ponytail bounces with each stride of her lithe body, a body that sharply contrasts with my own. I touch the dull gray metallic dome forming the top half of my skull and note the desiccated skin that covers the stocky muscles of my forearm.

 

Part of me wants to relax after my work shift ends at 2 AM, to consume whatever vacuous media is available these days and clear my head. That's what most of the other hybrids do with their mandatory four hours of freedom each day between work and sleep. The freewill shift, Mother calls it.

 

Another part of me, the human part, is drawn instead to this familiar spot at the edge of a wooded area overlooking City Park. She is there, as she usually is on mornings when the weather is fine, jogging around the trail.

 

As she runs, I stand in the empty promise of dawn and watch her, envying her immaculate humanity. In the distance, an enormous structure rises above the treetops of the park, clouds of morning moisture obscuring its highest spires.

 

 Mothership.

 

It had arrived on Earth when I was still a boy, sparking great concern. But it soon became clear the aliens were as peaceful as they were invulnerable to our own warlike overtures. Today, they are among us, conspicuous yet invisible, living in an isolated monarchy under the shadow and protection of Mother.

 

She has never revealed their origin to us, though it is certainly not terrestrial. Humans have come to refer to them merely as Extras.

 

* * *

 

I am Tender 127c4268024.

 

My job, or rather my punishment, is to help clean and repair a sprawling installation of equipment for generating electricity from the sun. Installation 127c, my permanent workplace in the Sonoran Desert, is but one of many sites of various kinds that feed Mother's insatiable appetite for power.

 

When the next night shift ends, hoverbuses snake through millions of acres of solar panels to pick us up and bring us back to the workers' residence near Tucson. I file out behind a dozen or so tired, dusty crew members, but instead of following the line toward the bunkhouse, I turn and walk in the other direction.

 

"You lost, newbie?" asks one of the old-timers. I had nearly bumped into her.

 

"No, I'm just in the mood for a stroll. No rule against that, is there?"

 

"It's your freewill shift to spend however you want. Just stay out of trouble and be back here for sleep shift when the sun comes up. Remember, Mother's watching."

 

"Always," I reply by rote, glancing at the oddly-shaped edifice sitting dormant in the distance.

 

* * *

 

I stand just out of sight and watch the jogger. At first, it felt wrong to spy on her. It would be creepy, I suppose, if I were still human like her. But I'm hybrid now  — incapable of having those kinds of thoughts. Mother can see into my mind, and she watches me constantly. She compels me to work during the work shift, sleep during the sleep shift, and she will punish me if I break the rules, even during my freewill shift.

 

"So this is where you go off to every morning after work." The voice from behind startles me. It's the old-timer I'd nearly bumped earlier.

 

"Uh, yeah. Just enjoying the sunrise." A faint lightening on the horizon silhouettes Mothership and the city skyline to the east.

 

The old-timer nods toward the jogger doing laps and says, "It'll pass, you know."

 

"Huh? What will?"

 

"That longing you feel. To be human again. I felt it too, at first. She's beautiful, isn't she?"

 

"Umm," I acknowledge weakly.

 

"I was a girl like her once. Before I was hybridized for my crime. Now look at me."

 

The human female origins of the old-timer are barely visible now. Her skin and muscles are like mine, only rougher. Stronger. Her hands are gnarled by years of manual labor, dusting the panels and repairing the electrical connections. Tending to Mother.

 

"I crashed my car," she offers. "It was an accident, but I'd had a beer and someone got hurt. A human court of law convicted me, but the sentence is always the same now: hybridization and servitude to Mother."

 

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

 

"Our crime is the only memory Mother lets us keep  —  part of our penance," she says. "What about yours?"

 

"I shot a man who was attacking my wife. It was self-defense."

 

"There's no such loophole anymore. Mother needs tenders like us. And the human leaders are happy not to have to deal with criminals. Even ones with excuses, like us. It's a win-win arrangement for them."

 

The ponytail girl finishes her last lap and is joined by a boy who emerges from a nearby fitness center. They embrace briefly and slowly walk away, holding hands. The sky has become noticeably brighter, but my mood has darkened.

 

"We'd better get back," says the old-timer. "You don't want Mother to put you to sleep out here. The ground isn't nearly as soft as your cot."

 

We walk back toward the residence. I glance at her and force a smile. In the soft light of the magic hour, I can almost see the shadow of the beautiful woman she once was. She smiles back and holds my hand the way we'd just seen the ponytail girl do.

 

Two steps later, her smile disappears, and she begins to convulse. I can feel her resist, but her hand soon pulls away from mine as if Mother herself had forced it .

 

She falls to the ground and shakes uncontrollably, her eyes rolled back into her head. There is nothing I can do to help. Physical contact between hybrids is forbidden.

 

Eventually, she is able to stand again, and we finish walking to the residence together in silence.

 

She no longer remembers me or the ponytail girl she once was.