Our Sincerest Apologies for Last Wednesday

Justina Ireland
Jul 27, 2017 · 22 min read

When the apocalypse came, Sheila Moore was sitting in the corner booth of the Lucky Duck Café, drinking a craft beer and eating Buffalo chicken wings as she was wont to do every Wednesday. She’d learned three years into her career as a professional paper pusher that Wednesday was the perfect day to go out for dinner. The rowdies wouldn’t show up until Thursday at the earliest since their paychecks were long spent by Sunday morning and the next payday was too far off. Monday and Tuesday were entirely too early to look forward to the weekend, and people who drank that early were, in Sheila’s opinion, probably alcoholics. So Wednesday was the sweet spot to eat deep fried foods and get a little tipsy on cleverly named beers.

On the last Wednesday in the historical record of humankind, Sheila was drinking a Surreptitious IPA, a new craft that the waitress had recommended and was redolent with the scent of flowers, and eating Assfire wings, the hottest offering on the Lucky Duck’s menu. So far, she wasn’t regretting either life choice, but figured that would change in about four hours.

The Lucky Duck was the kind of place that attracted a diverse crowd, and that night was no exception. The bar area had been taken over by what Sheila always thought of as the baseball bros: a group of middle-aged white men who came directly from their office jobs. They wore expensive looking suits and showed up every Wednesday for Lucky Duck’s Super Early Happy Hour, which started at 2 PM. By this time of night their movements were sloppy and their laughter too loud. The bartender kept asking none too subtly if anyone needed her to call an Uber.

In the dining room was Sheila, a family of eight enjoying a rousing conversation in Spanish over large platters of chicken wings, a forgettable looking white family of four eating salads and pizzas, and a table full of Black men engrossed in a heated debate about the basketball game on the big screen television that dominated the back wall.

There were fifteen television screens strategically placed through out the dining room, not including the big screen showing the basketball game, and each screen was given over to a sporting event. Sheila wasn’t really watching them so much as staring in their general direction. Instead, she was deep in thought about the coming week’s grocery shopping. Sheila was mentally debating the merits of buying strawberries over raspberries when every single screen in the Lucky Duck Café went dark.

The entirety of the restaurant cried out in dismay, causing the waitresses to come running from their gathering area near the kitchen and into the dining room proper.

“Yo, y’all ain’t pay the cable bill?” one of the Black men at the basketball table yelped, causing half of the dining room to laugh out loud. Everyone, except for the baseball bros. They were too busy looking personally wronged by the lack of television in the bar area.

The waitress closest to the table of basketball aficionados rushed over to a cabinet near the ordering terminal, grabbing a remote control and punching buttons randomly. The TVs remained completely black, which was strange. Sheila was no stranger to financial trouble. She’d grown up poor and she’d worked her way through college all by herself. She even had the student loan debt to prove it. There’d been enough times where she or her roommates hadn’t paid the cable bill, but the screen had never gone blank. There was always a nice, snarky reminder from the local cable company that flashed across the screen and the number they should call to “put something on it,” as Sheila’s mother always used to say.

Now, there was none of that. Just darkness.

The waitress sidled up to Sheila’s table, one eye on the baseball bros, who were very loudly making their displeasure known.

“How is everything?” the waitress asked.

“Great,” Sheila said, even though her beer was flat and her wings had been delivered to the table cold. Everything was awful, but it was always predictably bad at the Lucky Duke. But it was a level of disappointing Sheila could appreciate.

“Can I get you anything else?” the waitress asked, just as every single television came back on displaying a picture of a smiling koala.

At least, it looked like a koala. There was something slightly off, as though it wasn’t a real koala, but someone dressed in a very convincing, person-sized koala costume. There was the long black nose, the soft grey fur, and fluffy ears that dominated the sides of the creature’s head. But it was the eyes where things went all wrong. There was a knowing in those eyes, like the kind of look Sheila’s mom used to give her when she tried to lie her way out of some trouble.

It was like the koala was seeing the world, and it wasn’t mad. It was just really, really disappointed.

“What the hell is this?” one of the baseball bros proclaimed just as the koala began to speak.

“People of earth, please, do not be alarmed. My name is Chip-Chip, and I am the official spokesperson of the — ” here the creature on the screen let out a series of low pitched squawks and several clicks that sounded vaguely like a car engine on its last mile “ — but it would easier for your people to call us the Furred Ones. We are a species of sentient beings from a planet your telescopes have yet to detect. We are here because it has come to our attention that the human race is approximately two years away from complete and utter extinction.”

The dining room burst into conversation as people alternately exclaimed “Really?” and “I knew it” and “This is what you get when elect an idiot.”

Chip-Chip, the koala, continued to speak.

“Our kind have been watching yours for millennia, refusing to the intervene in the interest of your own evolution. Namely, we really thought you’d all be further along by now. Either way, we can no longer stand by and watch as you destroy yourselves. So, we are acquiring your planet and incorporating it into the Congress of Planets and Quasi-Planetary Structures. Please do not resist, as that will result in some very unfortunate events. Rest assured, for most of you life will get much better in the next week. And for some of you, well, you will probably die.”

There was a long moment of silence as everyone in the Lucky Duck processed the Furred One’s words.

“Did that koala-looking motherfucker just threaten to kill us?” one of the men at the table of basketball aficionados demanded.

The koala-looking motherfucker continued. “Over the next two days every human being on this planet will meet with an assessment counselor. We encourage you to be open and honest with them. There are no right answers, there are only the answers that will help your planet and yourselves. Thank you for your patience, and we look forward to coexisting with you. This message will repeat on basic cable channels 2, 45, and 63. Um, and channel 101 for satellite customers.”

The televisions all went back to the various sporting events, but for the most part the people on the TVs were just as confused as everyone in the Lucky Duck. The basketball players stood in the middle of the court, looking up and pointing at the stadium screens, where the same message from Chip-Chip still played.

The waitress remained beside Sheila’s table. “Well, that was weird. Did you want another beer?”

Sheila started to shake her head but then changed her mind. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

The waitress gave Sheila a curt nod and then moved off to check on her other tables. The non-descript white family were arguing in low voices while the table full of Spanish speakers had gone back to their meal, as though the antics of koala-esque conquerors was on par for a Wednesday.

The table of Black guys had started to argue about what the Furred Ones would do first, enslave everyone or eat everyone. It was only the baseball bros who seemed upset over the television announcement.

“It’s a hoax,” one white guy in a blue blazer announced, his voice carrying over the individual conversations in the dining room. When no one acknowledged him he stood, swaying dangerously before steadying himself.

“It isn’t real,” he said, this time loud enough that the dining room patrons couldn’t ignore him. The waitress dropped off a fresh beer at Sheila’s table and sighed.

“I guess I better call the cops,” she murmured.

Before she’d moved the door of the restaurant opened and six of the Furred Ones entered, a strange silver orb the size of a soccer ball floating in the air above them. There was no mistaking what they were, because they all looked like humanoid furry animals. They were no more than four feet tall and they wore some sort of sparkly tunic in shades of purple. Three of them looked like koalas, while the remaining were a giant raccoon, a red panda, and a chinchilla.

They were unbelievably adorable. It was, Sheila thought, the cutest invasion, ever.

“Ohmigod, it wasn’t a hoax,” Sheila’s waitress said, her eyes wide.

Sheila grabbed her beer and drank deeply, and the movement caught the waitress’ eye.

“Good idea,” she said, before hurrying toward the bar.

“Hello, humans!” one of the koalas said, lifting a paw in a friendly wave. “My name is Chirrup and I’m the leader of this team. We are your intake counselors. We are here to discuss your preferences for your life and ease your transition into the Congress of Planets and Quasi-Planetary Structures. We are so excited to be working with you.”

“You can suck it, koala. We’re Americans and no way we’re just going to roll over and let you take our planet,” one of the baseball bros yelled. This one was wearing a camel-colored blazer. The varied color of their blazers and ties was the only way Sheila could tell any of the baseball bros apart. He grabbed a beer bottle and slammed it against the bar, creating a sharp edged weapon.

The koala tilted its head in the direction of the man, and without any preamble the man exploded into a flash of light, leaving behind nothing but a vaguely oily looking spot on the tiled floor around the bar and a single brown loafer.

Sheila’s mouth fell open. This was entirely too much for a Wednesday.

The red panda leaned toward Chirrup, saying something only the koala creature could hear. It nodded. “Good point. My colleague Bob has pointed out that as you’ve never before seen a vaporization you’ve probably all suffered quite a shock, and it might be best if we catch up with you in the morning. So, would you please all proceed to your living quarters in an orderly fashion? Thank you.”

Sheila wanted to argue, but a single look at the lone brown loafer on the floor made her reconsider. It had a chilling effect on the rest of the Lucky Duck Café as well, and everyone stood and left the restaurant in a daze.

***

Sheila woke the next morning with the vague feeling that something had changed, but unable to remember what. Her stomach made an ominous sound, and before she could ponder anything further she made a beeline for the bathroom.

Well played, Assfire wings, she thought.

Later, after a shower and a cup of coffee, Sheila turned on the news. She’d expected to see the normal discussion of murders and car accidents and bubbly morning crosstalk. Instead, a furry red panda creature sat in the studio with the regular morning anchors grinning at something the female anchor had just said.

Oh, that’s right. The earth had been conquered by cuddly-looking aliens that were only too happy to turn everyone into a grease spot.

“Oh, we aren’t conquering your planet, Patricia,” the red panda said, as though he’d somehow read Sheila’s mind across the distance. The banner across the screen said its name was Leaf Rustle. “We’re simply fixing your world for you. It’s very important to have sentient creatures in this part of the universe, and if we wanted to conquer you we could have just vaporized everyone and been done with it. No one is going to deal with humans by choice.”

The entirety of the news team fell silent, and Leaf Rustle made a chuffing sound. “I’m sorry. That was a joke. Probably an ill-timed one. The truth is, we’re pacifists and find killing distasteful. Although, we will use it as a last resort, as with what many witnessed last night. And again, we apologize for vaporizing your president and his advisors and most of his political party. And the other political party. And that third political party no one much cares about. In hindsight, we may have gotten a little overzealous. Although, from what we’ve seen the president’s approval rating was very low.”

“Yes, only thirty-two percent,” the male news anchor said. His expression was the same as the people interviewed after a catastrophic accident: vacant and surprised but mostly just wondering how the fuck he’d ended up there.

“The president is one thing, but how do you justify vaporizing people like Colin Martin?” Patricia said, undaunted. A picture flashed on the screen of a good looking white boy, blond hair, posed for what was obviously a high school senior picture. He reminded Sheila of a photo she’d once seen of Ted Bundy: charming, but something dead in the eyes.

Patricia continued. “You cut down a young life. Colin was a football star and had a full scholarship to Michigan.”

Leaf Rustle bobbed its head in a nod of acknowledgement. “Yes, that was unfortunate. But in our defense, Colin was a total dick.”

Patricia’s mouth gaped slightly and Leaf Rustle continued. “Colin was guilty of a great many violent offenses. We have offered to discuss the matter with his family but they have declined. They’re also pretty much assholes so no surprise their boy turned out so terribly.”

Patricia screwed up her face in a scowl. “You have murdered a boy and at the same time you’ve released convicted offenders! We have a great many reports of jails being completely emptied and the inmates being released. How can you live with yourselves?”

Leaf Rustle’s ears twitched. “I could ask the same. There is a surprisingly high rate of error in your convictions for a species that is otherwise intelligent. But I sense that you are not interested in a discussion.”

The creature gestured with a paw and turned so that he was addressing the viewing audience directly. “We want to make this transition as easy as possible for all of you, which is why I’m here to once again stress the need for cooperation. Humans are naturally suspicious because you all treat each other so terribly in pursuit of your limited resources. But we will change that. We have technologies that you cannot even imagine, and we’ve already begun working with some of your top scientists to put your planet to rights. Our goal is to allow all of you to live your best lives. Although, admittedly, some of you have to be culled in order to make a healthy transition, like removing a cancer. And we regret that. Sincerely. But it’s for the good of the planet.”

Sheila turned off the television and finished getting ready for work.

***

When Sheila arrived to work everything seemed pretty normal for a Thursday. There was the regular budget meeting, and then the regular complaints about the lack of progress at the budget meeting. There were sandwiches in the break room for everyone because someone in accounting had retired (Sheila didn’t know Gloria but her farewell sandwiches were delicious), and there was the usual email from her boss “just checking in” in which he asked her to accomplish several tasks which she’d completed the week before. Overall, it was a Thursday just like any other.

With the exception of the spaceships floating in the sky.

Sheila saw them when she went on her usual walk over lunch, and again when she was leaving work. About the size of cars and flashing silver, they weren’t any more threatening than any other strange object looming ominously in the sky. Which is to say they were absolutely terrifying.

“I heard they’re collecting information on all of us, to put us in some kind of work camp,” Kyle said. Sheila wasn’t a fan of Kyle, mostly because he’d built a successful career taking credit for her work, but she gave him a polite smile, anyway.

“I think we should wait to see what they do before we judge them too harshly,” Sheila said. “Let’s give them a chance.” It was something she’d been told numerous times when expressing concern over one of the company’s ill-conceived policies, and it felt good to deliver the admonishment for once.

Sheila made her way home without incident. She had just changed out of her work clothes and was on her way to the grocery store when there was a knock on the door of her apartment. On the other side of the door was the koala from the night before, the one who had introduced itself as Chirrup.

“Hi,” Sheila said, opening the door. She held herself stiffly, the vision of the baseball bro disappearing in a flash of light coming back to her. She wondered if she were about to be vaporized.

“Hello, Sheila Moore! I am your intake counselor here to do your initial assessment. My name is Chirrup, I believe we met last night.”

“Yes, I recognize you.”

“How interesting.” Chirrup tapped on the tablet it held before turning back to Sheila. “May I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Sheila stood back and let the Furred One in her apartment. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Oh, no, thank you. But I wouldn’t mind a glass of water.”

Chirrup sat down at Sheila’s kitchen table while she got a glass. Halfway through filling it she paused. “Is a glass okay? I could also put it in a bowl if that would be easier.”

The koala’s ears flickered almost imperceptibly. “A bowl would be much easier. Thank you for your consideration.” Tap tap tap went the koala’s claws on the tablet.

Sheila dumped out the water in the glass and filled a bowl, placing it next to Chirrup. Then she sat across from Chirrup, bracing herself for the inevitable onslaught of accusatory questioning. When Sheila was young a neighbor had called Child Protective Services on her family after a disagreement. It had been a terrible experience. The CPS agent had made her feel like she was doing something wrong even when she wasn’t.

“So, tell me what makes you angry, Sheila.” Chirrup said. The creature dropped a tablet into the bowl of water that fizzed a bright green and then faded away to nothingness, leaving the water clear. At Sheila’s confused gaze Chirrup explained, “Your water is full of toxic chemicals. It’s really amazing that your species hasn’t already gone extinct, the way you’re so fond of poisoning yourselves.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Not your fault!” the creature chirped. “So, back to my question: what makes you angry?”

“Oh, I don’t know, nothing really.”

“Not even racism?”

Sheila blinked. “Well, yeah, racism is bad.”

“So, it makes you angry that you were passed over for that promotion last month?”

“I…how do you know about that?”

Chirrup’s mouth stretched wide in an approximation of a smile. “We have accessed every single entry since the beginning of human recorded history and analyzed them. Including your own personal records.”

Sheila frowned. Kyle had been right. That bothered her more than the Furred Ones collecting data.

“So, were you upset at being passed over for the promotion?” Chirrup probed.

Sheila startled. “I, well, I wasn’t the best qualified candidate.”

“Not true. You were the best-qualified candidate. They did not promote you because your skin has a higher melanin count. And because you identify as the gender known as woman.” Here the koala made a chuffing sound. “Only two genders, how rustic.”

A curious calm came over Sheila, the familiar specter of polite racism erasing her newfound fear of vaporization. She’d suspected that she’d been passed over because she was the lone black woman working in the office, but having it confirmed made her feel a twisted sort of happiness. She shouldn’t have second-guessed herself.

“Are you angry?” Chirrup asked, before slurping loudly from the bowl.

“No, just kind of sad.” Sheila sighed. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and it won’t be the last.”

“Yes, it will,” Chirrup said. “We do not tolerate such behavior. Why, can you imagine if I were to turn away someone who was perfect for a job just because their fur was red? It’s preposterous. I would be vaporized.” Chirrup made that chuffing sound again that Sheila realized was laughter and tapped at its tablet.

“So, let’s move on to your housing situation,” Chirrup said.

***

After another three hours of questions — would you like a mate? Are you satisfied with your physical form? Have you ever considered a different line of work? — Chirrup announced that they were finished and Sheila could finally go shopping. She headed to the local supermarket, which mostly looked the same except that most of the service positions had been replaced by bright, white automatons.

The man at the door greeted her warmly. “Hi! Just wanted to let you know that most of the work here has been replaced by robots. Just didn’t want you to be alarmed.”

“What happened to the people?” Sheila asked, wondering if her trust in Chirrup earlier had been misplaced.

“Oh, it turns out that no one really enjoys working in a grocery store,” the man said with a shrug. “So the Furred Ones replaced most of the labor force with the robots.”

“But you’re here,” Sheila said.

The man laughed. “I love my job. There’s nowhere else I want to be.” Sheila peered at the man, looking for the lie, but he was actually telling the truth.

Sheila completed her shopping quickly, since all of the processed food had been removed along with all of the meat. There were instead various types of protein blends that were marked with brightly colored stickers that proclaimed “Tastes Just Like The Real Thing.” For a moment as she picked up a package of faux chicken (which had been hilariously marked as “faucken”) Sheila wondered if this was it, if this was the moment they discovered that their new alien overlords were terrible creatures there to exploit humans as either a food supplement or a workforce or something even more sinister (they obviously didn’t want the planet because of the previously mentioned lack of wholesale genocide).

But then she got home, cooked and ate the faucken, and realized it was actually delicious. It was even better than chicken.

Still, Sheila went to bed wondering what kind of horrible revelations Friday would bring.

***

Friday brought Sheila a promotion and a corner office.

On Saturday, Sheila was told she had a date with the man who was meant to be her life partner. She went to the ascribed meeting place, and realized the guy across the table was one of the baseball bros she saw every Wednesday at the Lucky Duck Café. His name was Aiden and he was really funny. It was the best date she’d ever had. He asked her if he could go out with her again, and they made plans to go out for chicken wings on Wednesday, assuming the world didn’t suddenly end.

“I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know?” Aiden said as he walked Sheila to her door at the end of the date. “Like, everything in my life has gotten so much better in the past three days,” his meaningful look at Sheila made a thrill of pleasure go through her, “I just keep wondering when it’s all going to go sideways.”

“Me, too,” Sheila laughed, a bit breathlessly. “I keep expecting them to ship us all off to work camps or something. I mean, there were those people they vaporized on Wednesday. And then Thursday. Okay, basically every day since they got here.”

Aiden shrugged. “I know. This guy I knew, Dave, was one of them. But turns out he was beating his wife and maybe tried to kill his neighbor’s dog, so no big loss.”

“That’s terrible,” Sheila said.

“Yeah. He was a really nice guy, but maybe had some problems. But even though he’s gone I just keep thinking, my life is really going well since the Furred Ones got here. What are a few vaporizations of people who are probably awful anyway?”

Sheila said nothing, mulling over his words.

Aiden reached out and took Sheila’s hand. “We should really just mind our own business and focus on cooperating. Anyway, I’d love to take you out on Wednesday, assuming we aren’t in some sort of forced work camp.”

Sheila smiled. “It’s a deal.”

***

Sunday was quiet, all except for the group of revolutionaries who came by and tried to get Sheila to join the rebellion. She’d heard people gathering in the street all afternoon, but she’d mostly ignored them in favor of trying to finish her book. A little after five an incessant pounding on her front door finally caused Sheila to open it.

“Can I help you?”

“Join in the revolution with us, sister friend!” The woman said when she spied Sheila. “Now is our chance to throw off our oppressors, to make the streets run red with their blood!”

“I think I’m okay.”

“We cannot let these furry bastards jeopardize our way of life!” screamed the wild-eyed white woman at the door. She had several rifles and a bandolier of grenades, and Sheila was glad she’d left the security chain latched. Although, it wouldn’t do much if the woman decided to throw a grenade at her.

“Seriously, I’m good,” Sheila said.

“But you should join us! Your people know all about slavery and oppression. How can you just let this stand?”

“I’m really busy right now. But good luck with your revolution,” Sheila said, closing the door and going back to her book.

About midnight Sheila woke to the sounds of people screaming in the street. She looked out of her window and saw the silver orbs hovering over her street, zapping a bunch of heavily armed people shooting into the sky. Sheila went around her apartment, double-checking that everything was secured, before putting on a pair of noise cancelling headphones and falling back to sleep to the sound of Fall Out Boy. Sad white boys just put her right out.

Monday morning there was a report on the news about how a group of malcontents had tried to stage a coup, complete with pictures of various neighborhoods around the city, the only remnants of the revolutionaries an oily spot and one of their shoes. The regular female newscaster, Patricia, had been replaced by a pretty Indian woman wearing a sari. Sheila couldn’t help but think it was an improvement.

Sheila watched the reports and idly wondered what would happen to all those shoes.

Work was forgettable, and Tuesday flew by without incident. By the time Wednesday rolled around Sheila felt pretty apathetic about the invasion. Aiden had been right. Sure, those silver orbs still floated ominously in the sky and she’d seen two men who were whispering about “doing something” get vaporized over lunch, but other than that things were going well. She’d been promoted, she had a date with a hot, funny guy, and she’d lost five pounds from eating the replacement protein instead of meat.

“It isn’t that bad” was a refrain on constant repeat in Sheila’s brain.

A few minutes before she left to meet Aiden at the Lucky Duck Café there was a knock on the door. Chirrup stood on the other side and Sheila sighed. “Is this the part where you tell me I’m being taken to a work camp?”

The koala’s ears twitched. “No. Why would I do such a thing? I am simply following up to make sure your life has improved under our management. I have a customer satisfaction survey, if you wouldn’t mind completing it.”

“Oh, of course.” Sheila took Chirrup’s proffered tablet and breezed through the questions. There were only five, and they were all some variation of “Are you happy with your current life situation?” All of the answers were degrees of yes.

Sheila handed back the tablet and Chirrup handed Sheila a bracelet. “What’s this for?”

“We find money barbaric, so going forward all of your allocated resources will be distributed via this wrist band. Don’t worry, you should be well cared for. Also, we will have some workers coming by later this week to alter the time and spatial dimensions of your apartment. Since your living quarters are below the recommended minimum allowance we’ll need to correct that.”

Sheila hesitantly slipped on the bracelet that Chirrup had given her and nodded absently. “Oh, thanks. Are you going to knock out a wall or something?”

Chirrup chuffed. “We can alter the space without altering the shape. Hence time and spatial dimensions.”

Sheila blinked to give herself a moment to process Chirrup’s words. “Oh. Okay. Of course. Was there anything else?”

“Not at all! Enjoy your date with Aiden!” Chirrup said, before walking down the hallway to knock on Sheila’s neighbor’s door. It bothered Sheila that a strange koala creature knew so much about her love life, but since Chirrup was responsible for the date in the first place Sheila put the feeling aside with the rest of her misgivings.

Sheila made her way to the Lucky Duck Café, which looked exactly the same as it had last Wednesday before the invasion. Inside, the patrons looked mostly like the usual crowd, except for the baseball bros at the bar. Their numbers had greatly diminished and they weren’t nearly as drunk as they usually were when Sheila walked in.

Sheila sat at her usual table, the waitress greeting her more warmly than usual. Sheila had the same response lately when she saw an acquaintance she recognized. It was nice to discover not everyone had been vaporized.

A few minutes later Aiden entered the restaurant and joined her, and the two of them made idle chatter and drank beers until the television screens flashed A BREAKING NEWS alert.

Aiden frowned. “I hope this isn’t bad.”

The regular sporting events were replaced by a fuzzy koala face. “Greetings, humans of Earth, I am Chip-Chip. You may remember me from last week when my colleagues and I told you your planet was now under our control. We wanted to formally apologize for last Wednesday, and the ensuing unpleasantness over the last couple of days. But we are happy to report that as of today your planet has fully transitioned into being a place of peace and happiness for all.

“Well, that is, everyone except for those we vaporized. Again, out sincerest apologies. Our thoughts and prayers are with the families of the vaporized.”

Sheila raised her eyebrows. “Who do you think they pray to?” she asked Aiden.

Before he could answer Chip-Chip continued on. “And so, we are happy to announce that we are transitioning things back to your governments, what remains of them. Our orbs will continue to enforce the current rules, and there will be annual and semi-annual check-ins, but we will not be here. Thank you to everyone who cooperated, and we shall see you in half an orbit of your planet.”

The screens went back to the regularly scheduled programming and everyone went back to their conversations.

“So, I guess that’s it then,” Aiden said uncertainly, looking at the big screen on the back wall.

“I guess so,” Sheila said. “It does seem pretty anti-climactic.”

“I used to watch a lot of sci-fi movies when I was a kid, and I always imagined an alien invasion would be completely different,” Aiden said with a laugh. “Violent. This…wasn’t that bad.”

Sheila shrugged. “I don’t know, it. Seemed terrible to me.”

Aiden blinked. “What? What do you mean?”

“We gave up all of our personal freedoms for a little bit of comfort. And a lot of people died needlessly. I don’t think there’s anything good about being the pet project of a bunch of adorable, controlling aliens. I dunno. Maybe things were so bad before the Furred Ones got here that we were willing to embrace anything that changed the status quo, even if it sucked.”

Aiden leaned back, a little surprised. “What are you saying, that we should’ve fought the Furred Ones?”

Sheila shrugged. “I’m saying that comfort given in exchange for freedom is still slavery, no matter how pretty the cage. I don’t like my new job, they’re getting ready to do something weird to my apartment, and I miss chicken. Real chicken. This faucken fucking sucks,” Sheila said, poking at the plate that should’ve been assfire wings but instead were fingers of protein mush. “I hate everything about this new world order and there’s nothing I can do to change it. But at least now that those furry bastards are gone I can finally speak my thoughts out loud.”

Then Sheila was vaporized and never thought much of anything again.

But she did leave behind one fabulously stylish yellow shoe.

    Justina Ireland

    Written by

    I write okay books and I am just like other girls. Look! I have a website: justinaireland.com