Seth in Space

The stars look different from here. That makes sense though, what with me being millions of light-years away from home. My watch says that on earth, in a small, forgettable village in the Yorkshire dales on the island of Britain, it is 5:29 PM, and my mum would be back from the hospital appointment with Grandpa at 6:30 PM, and I won’t be there to be picked up.

Because I’m in space.

With Aliens.

Well, I think they’re aliens.

They’re not from earth, that’s for sure. They have a swarm of tentacles for legs, with suckers making a popping sound with every step they take. Like when you’re a toddler and you have toys with suction-cups that make them stick to the side of the bath, and the satisfying pop they make when you peel them off and feel like the strongest three-year-old in the world. That pop is what they make. With. Every. Step. Pop. Pop. Pop. Times how many tentacles they have. I don’t think this intergalactic race was made to be stealthy.

‘Intergalactic race’ is something I just thought of, ‘cause I get the feeling that If I DO call them aliens, despite that being a familiar term to humans, these guys might not appreciate it. I don’t know what they know about humans, whether I’m the first they’ve ever seen or whether they do this daily, but if they have seen how we treat so-called ‘aliens’ in films then I wouldn’t blame them for not wanting to be associated as human-eating, world destroying, uncontrollable monsters.

I hear the pop, pop, pop of one coming down the corridor and tap on the buttons outside the locked room I’m being kept in. I don’t think it’s a good sign, considering I’ve been locked in here. They at least gave me a great view though.

With one last press of a button, the door slides open, chrome pipes above the door blasting the ‘intergalactic creature’ with steam that smells of dew covered grass. It has a face, with two eyes on storks and a mouth that looks like a parrot’s beak. It bathes itself in the steam for a moment, letting out a ‘mmmmmmmmm’ as it touches it, turning patches of the blobby blue skin a dull green colour.

The door slides shut behind it. It shuffles closer.

‘Human?’ It says. I can see that its mouth is forming words, but the English version is only in my head. I feel that if I focused really hard, I could hear a language no human had never heard before.

‘Uh, that’s me. I’m one of those.’ I say. I don’t know if I should have said anything.

‘Has human got a title that separates it from other humans?’

I’m debating telling an alien my name. How many humans have done this?

Was there even any danger in it knowing?

Was it going to use me name to get inside my brain and make me a solder in their army to wipe out my fellow human-kind?

‘Seth,’ I finally say.

‘Seth,’ It said back. ‘S-E-T-H’

I’m focusing on hearing the new language hidden underneath the forced English in my brain, but when I try droning it out, there’s only a buzzing sound, like something is being said, but it’s on a whole different wave-length to me. Like being tuned into a faulty radio signal, or like when dogs can hear those whistles and humans can’t.

‘Seth,’ it said. ‘Seth. Third son of Adam and Eve and brother of Cain and Abel. Seth the Patriarch, Seth lived to the age of 920. Seth-’

‘Excuse me?’ I say.

‘That is who you are, yes?’

‘What? Seth from the bible? No way! I’m Seth Hodgins, from Birkdale.’

The alien turned its head to the side like a confused dog. It’s stork-eyes blinked one at a time as it stared at me.

‘Our databases have not much information on this ‘Birkdale’,’ It whispered. I assume it was talking to itself, and the translated words were still being broadcast to me anyway. ‘Birkdale, Yorkshire Dales, Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty… There’s no Seth Hodgins of Birkdale mentioned though.’

I laugh. ‘I’d’ve been surprised if I was. I’m just a kid. Go to Birkdale Comp. Year eight. Not even a prefect.’

The alien put a tentacle to its right stork-eye. ‘So much new terminology, it’s all confusing…’

‘Do you not pick up humans that often then, uh…’ I put my hands out, not even sure if I should say sir or ma’am to ask for a name after it.

‘Our databases tell me that you are doing the human symbol of ‘what’s your title’, is this correct?’

‘Uh… yes,’ I say.

‘I go by Azu. That’s the closest it can be translated. Our species has different genders to you humans, though to translate mine to yours, I am a ‘She’. It is your ‘She’s’ that produce the eggs, correct?’

‘I guess… most of the time.’

Azu the she-alien. Got it.

‘To answer your question from before, no, we do not ‘pick up’ humans often. We are two sun rotations into a fifty sun rotations plan to research the planet you call Earth. This is our first contact with someone in your stage of development.’ There was a pause. ‘A teenager, you call it?’

‘Is there a reason it had to be me?’ I ask. I’m kinda shaking because thoughts of research being done on me by an alien race are flashing into my head. I don’t want to be cut open or put in a goo container. I gotta get back home for 6:30 PM.

‘We selected that area of your country to pick a human as our databases showed a drastic drop in population compared to the areas south of your Birkdale. You the one teenager we could find, so we beamed you up.’

‘Couldn’t you have asked first?’ I moan.

‘Is that a human custom?’

‘You always have to ask if things are ok with people!’ I say this louder than I think I meant to. I think I’m getting angry.

Azu pauses once again, her eyes rolling back slightly, as if she’s trying to get something directly from her brain. Two of her tentacles slap against the chrome flooring. Pop. Pop.

‘I apologise for not understanding this custom,’ she says.

‘No worries.’ I sigh.

‘Would you like to accompany us with the research?’ She asks.