You’ve really got to make the day last — especially when you’ve only got one. More so when it’s spent in battle.

 

I and the rest of the batch of Mayfly soldiers charge through the alien jungle of the planet Jarg, blasting apart the enemies with our weapons.

 

These enemies are like us, bipedal, although they are purely organic and evolved from simians, whereas we are genetically enhanced insectoids. As a result of our evolved form, we still have a pair of wings, nonfunctional now, although they do promote balance. Our eyesight is sharp and multiple, a throwback to the compound and ocelli eyes of our ancestors.

 

“Be alert!” cries a fellow Mayfly behind me.

 

I dodge the enemy fire and disintegrate the advancing alien. “Appreciations to you. What is your identification?”

 

“Batch Orange, 452.”

 

“I’m Batch Orange, 425.”

 

“Let’s live our first and last day well.”

 

As the battle continues, we stick close, and soon, I identify him as a friend.

 

The atmosphere becomes thick with red with fluid and guts as we lay siege to the planet with the rest of our squadron — all while I get to know my Mayfly brother. There’s not much to learn that I can’t assume, apart from his favourite colour is saffron and he really loves war. What life form doesn’t?

 

Now, we two are divided from the other batches.

 

“I request an explanation for that phenomenon,” I demand as dark purple clouds form around me.

 

“A storm variant. Be care—”

 

A flash of silver and a boom, and the light extinguishes.

 

* * *

 

I awake on what my birth data download could only describe as the bottom bed of a bunk bed.

 

“He’s awake,” says a gleeful simian-evolved infant looking down at me.

 

“Die—ag!” I cry, as I tried to rise, but hit my head.

 

“Hold on,” says an older female I assume to be the maternal unit, and she puts a cloth on my forehead wound.

 

“Where are my weapons?”

 

“Mummy says we put the toys away,” says the infant.

 

“Give me my weapons, enemy offspring!”

 

“Calm down, you’re going to give yourself a mischief,” says the female. “Your playthings are locked away safe. You can have them back if you’re a little bit nicer. And agree on something.”

 

“Agree with what?”

 

“You won’t kill us.”

 

I groan. “Why not?”

 

“Well, I think it would rather ruin our day. Not to mention, it would be a tad ungrateful since we saved your life.”

 

“I need no protection.”

 

“Doubtful.”

 

“How long have I been here?”

 

“Since yesterday.”

 

“Yesterday? That’s impossible.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m a Mayfly. We have no yesterday.”

 

“Oh. Well, it looks like today’s your lucky day.”

 

I lay back on the bed, buzzing. I emote, “The birth data input tells all. There is no luck, we go forth on the order and love of our queen, throughout the galaxy, exterminating and colonising every planet. It is our duty. It is our privilege.”

 

“I’m going to make some hot chocolate. Would you like some?”

 

* * *

 

My second day so far is spent in peace, with a family, filled with quiet moments. It was hard at first, but now, as the light grows dim in their living room, I look forward to other quiet days.

 

“Like another cake, Orange?”

 

“Affirmative,” I say to the mother, who I learned is called Miriam.

 

She passes me a plate of sweet nourishment. Her infant, known as Sam, amuses himself with a toy sat by her feet.

 

“So why do you think you managed to get to day 2?” she asks.

 

I pause. “Maybe the Divine Mother is kind to me.”

 

“Maybe. Or maybe what you have learnt about your species is a lie, to make you cope with a life in battle.”

 

The morning of any other day, I would have throttled her. But the female needs to give me an answer. “Explain.”

 

“Maybe,” Miriam says, “It would be up to your species to find out.”

 

A rumbling outside.

 

“The phenomenon,” I gasp.

 

I run outside of the isolated farmhouse, experiencing my second night. As my pulse accelerates, I notice yet again the impossible.

 

“Batch Orange, 452, you’re also alive on the second day?”

 

My oldest friend looks at me, “The day didn’t end. There’s been a time storm. I’ve broken through.”

 

“Can you confirm?

 

I turn 180 degrees to see Miriam standing nearby, her son staring from one of the windows of the house. “It’s true, I’m afraid, Orange. We have a Time Disruptor Generator downstairs.”

 

“Why did you proceed with this deception?”

 

“To give the greatest and most gracious gift we have.”

 

Batch Orange 452 raises his weapon. “Move. The enemy must pay.”

 

“But why?” I croak.

 

“It is our duty.”

 

“But what if we had more time?”

 

“Our time is chosen for us. There is no greater honour.”

 

I had to choose.

 

“Apologies.”

 

I shoot. My friend falls.

 

“You killed your own for me.”

 

“He would have died soon regardless. I’ve just given you what you gave me. My friend spent his time in honour, in duty. He knew who he was.”

 

“You are who you choose to be.”

 

I nod.

 

My friend stands beside me as I stare into the storm. “When the clouds vanish—”

 

“My time ends.”

 

She puts a hand gently on my back.

 

I smile slowly. “Thank you. For your time.”

 

As the clouds flash before me, so does my life. My birth in the egg chamber. My data input. My deployment. And everything that came after. The joy and the horror of it. The love. I was given what no other Mayfly had before. And now — no more.