DAY 1, AFTERNOON.
The screaming faded. I wasn't sure what to make of it.
My brother remained.
"Timmy," I said to the ghost. "Why don't you speak to me?"
He didn't answer.
"Timmy! I love you! Don't you love me?"
He didn't say anything.
"If you love me, please, for the love of God, say something!"
Instead of answering, he disappeared. I cried.
Is the ghost real? Is it a fact? Or did I imagine him?
I wish I were back home.
They dropped a bomb on The Colony. A big atomic bomb.
My home, my friends, every link to my past, all vaporized.
No, it wasn't a bomb! They blew up a reactor!
I beat myself in the head. Stop forgetting things, you dumb alien girl!
Item Five: LV 426 was blown up by an atomic explosion.
Item Six: The people that run this place don't like it when I hurt myself. One time I beat my head against a wall until it bled, and they jolted me with a cattle prod.
I hate the thing I've become. Sometimes I want to kill myself. I have to keep reminding myself of what happened, and why I took over this body to begin with.
I'm better than those things. I'm better than the people that imprisoned me. I have to remember.
Item Seven: I remember life on Archeron.
LV 426 didn't have much on its surface. Before they put in the terraforming equipment, the place mostly had a bunch of rocks and dirt, and you'd have to wear a space suit to go outside.
Dust storms blew in all the time. Even when the place got terraformed, I'd cough and sneeze from all the dust flying around. It'd get in my eyes, making them red.
Still, they did have kind of a Grand Canyon. The closest thing to The Grand Canyon that I'd ever get to see, at any rate.
It was a vast crater, hundreds of miles across, with majestic cliffs and mesas and steppes...no cacti or sagebrush, of course. You'd have to be careful not to drive or walk across a stretch of powder that swallowed you up or rolled you down the foot of a cliff the moment you put weight on it, but I'll never forget how beautiful it all was. Pretty as a painting.
What did they call that place? Athena? The Majestic Crater? The memory has disappeared like the name of that big kid that helped me survive in the tunnels for all those weeks after the aliens killed everybody.
I grew up not knowing how it was to live on Earth. What I knew came only from books and recordings.
I asked Daddy if he'd ever seen a real duck and what it's like.
He told me he used to visit a local marina as a child. You could buy fish food and throw it to the ducks and catfish. The catfish would swarm around every morsel, giving the water the appearance of a boiling cauldron in their greedy frenzy to feed. Daddy said he would intentionally throw food around the ducks, to give the birds an interesting ride and make them peck at the fish nibbling at their legs.
He'd bounce morsels off the ducks' heads, aim it at their backs, laughing as some of the ducks floated around with food between their wings, in that hard to reach spot. Other ducks would snatch it off them and they'd get into fights.
The ducks splashed, wiggled their tail feathers, floated in little armadas as they awaited the next morsel.
A lot of people at the dock were wasteful, just dumping the food into the school of catfish, but it was much more fun to bean the birds on their little noggins, watch them scramble to dip the bread crumb and gobble it down.
During my brief imprisonment on the planet, I could see a lake with ducks out my window. My body was in larval stage still, so I didn't have the power to break the window. In my dreams, I shatter the glass and go out to feed them.
I scratch a little man's face into the metal wall, with a little noose around his head. Below it I write, "Home is where you hang your head."
Just another attempt to make this little cage more personalized, more like a home.
My search for lost memories is interrupted by Vela, coming in for my daily medical check.
Apparently twenty four hours had passed without me notiicing.
DAY 2
"Good morning...Becky?" she said like she had only met me for the first time. "How are we doing today?"
"Bored," I said. "I understand the need for the prison, but-"
"That's great to hear," she answered like I hadn't said anything. "How is your spouse, friend or domestic partner?"
Everything that came out of her mouth sounded like a pre-recorded script.
"Oh. I am sorry. You do not have anyone. That was silly of me." Nervous smile.
"Did you intentionally say that to make me feel bad, or was that an accident?"
"I am sorry. I am new to this. I try to make friend, okay?"
"You're doing a great job," I said facetiously.
Vela smiled like I had just complimented her.
She lifted my tail, taking out the thermometer.
"Hey! Didn't you do that yesterday?" I yelled, but she already had it up my rear.
"You have probes stuck all over my body. You can read my pulse and my brain but you can't get a damn temperature without sticking a thing up my butt?"
"The temperature device is not giving accurate readings," she said. "I think perhaps you melted it?"
"I thought I was supposed to be the anal prober!"
Vela gawked at me. "You...said you did not do that."
She could not see me rolling my eyes. "That was before I met you. I'm really starting to understand the abductions now!"
The lady backed away in horror. "Please do not hurt me! You have promised not to hurt human beings, so please do not take back your word to not hurt human beings by hurting human beings, or me, please."
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "I just want to take your temperature."
Vela let out a yelp, quickly letting herself out of the room.
Since she hadn't bothered to take out the thermometer, I checked it myself, staring at the readout. "Is a hundred degrees normal?" I called after the woman.
I didn't get an answer.
Nor did she come back for a very long time.
Item Eight: Physiology.
My new body has a set of worm thingies that come out of my mouth. My upper palette opens up and they wiggle out. All I have to do is make my brain think about flexing that muscle I used to pee with. It's kind of like, I don't know, a video game where you change the controls, you know, making Mario jump with the B button instead of A, if that makes any sense.
The worms, I don't know what they're for, really. I know you can stick them in someone's brain and communicate with them, but I'm not really sure why an alien would have them. Maybe they use them for sex or something. All I know is, if your consciousness isn't in your own body when you die, it might go into the body you're plugged into.
My voice scared me the first time I inhabited this body. The vocal chords were not used to making the sounds my mind wanted them to make. Everything came out in a raspy growl, like the guys in those heavy metal rock bands that one of my classmates used to listen to.
The sound didn't even come out at first, like one of those dreams where you're trying to tell someone something important and only whispers come out. I practiced with the Alphabet Song, just to make sure all the vowels and consonants were still there.
The body I took over could already speak and understand a language. That's how I got it to obey me. I guess they naturally develop that stuff from birth, or the mother somehow injects the information into their egg with worms before they hatch.
It's a very simple language involving very little of the vocal chords I like to use, and a whole lot of body language. In fact, maybe my body language was the main reason why I was able to order that larva around in the first place. I don't know, I'm just a kid.
The alien word for my species (the species of my new body, I mean) is Ss'sik'chatokiwij. It basically means `people,' but we're not talking about human people. Human beings call us `Xenomorphs,' but that just makes me think of some kind of Kung Fu fighting superhero. I drew Bruno a picture of a Mighty Morphin Xeno one time, but he didn't understand the joke.
People don't understand that I have eyes. On the outside, it looks like we don't, but it's really like those mirrors they have on cop shows. That's how I can appreciate things like the beautiful brown-gray house sparrows perched outside the window on my prison cell on earth, or the stars and pockmarks of asteroids on Pluto as the planetoid endlessly rotates in the sun's distant light.
Item Nine: My Christmas present.
You'd think having an alien brain would make me smart, but I don't think it works like that. Claudia gave me this stupid 3D wooden snowflake puzzle and I still can't figure it out. With only nine interlocking pieces, you'd think it would be simple, but I guess I'm still a dumb-dumb.
You see, you get five pieces that have sort of a `C' shape, three flat cross pieces with squares cut out of them, and a C shape with a skinny middle part, and you're supposed to somehow fit them together without any glue or sockets. I've spent whole days trying to make it fit together, but the stupid thing keeps on falling apart in my hands, or before I can stand it up.
The thing makes me so mad! I always end up throwing the pieces at a wall and giving up in frustration. Grr!
I'm probably boring you, but I can't help it. There isn't a whole lot to do in here. This diary will probably sit on some scientist's desk and I'll still be here, lonely as ever! It's not fair!
Item Ten: Big Blue is my best friend.
When I was smaller, what they called a `larval state', they gave me a four foot tall stuffed dog toy. I called it `Big Blue' because of the color. I used to snuggle up with it every night. Then, on a weird impulse, I ripped open its back and slept inside its stomach.
It was the best sleep I'd ever had in this new body, but someone got scared and thought I escaped, so they took the dog away. I miss him a lot, even if I'm too big to fit inside him now.
Item Eleven: Forget what you've heard.
The story you heard about me being rescued by Space Marines was a reconstruction of my past memories, before I entered this chitinous alien body. It was a cathartic work, something people at the compound said would help me feel better.
I was terrified of the aliens that killed everyone in my family's colony. The Space Marines were heroes, and that big bug thing that came out of that underground spaceship was a bitch. That's what I felt at the time, and that's what came out in that anonymously submitted novel, and later a film simply entitled `Aliens.'
The sequel to my memoirs was written in the same vein, though it wasn't true and it left a lot of details out.
Suffice to say, despite the story about my clean bill of health (I simply die from a pod malfunction during the crash) the big bug alien had hatched its larva from my chest cavity, but I knew the alien's secrets, so I lived on.
I have since learned to forgive the big bug, and after our little adventure on the prison colony on Fiorina 161, we at last made peace. While imprisoned in a secret government facility on Earth, we exchanged letters and eventually talked.
I can't forget what she did, but I at least understand her a little better now, and I can move on.
Item Number ?
The door to my cell suddenly opened, giving me a glimpse of the space station's interior. Very seldom do I get the luxury of seeing such things without someone with a cattleprod blocking the view.
I didn't see anyone out there. I decided to take a look around.
When I heard a familiar voice shouting my name, my heart nearly beat out of my chest.
"Newt!" the voice called. "Newt! Where are you!"
I rushed out the open door, into the gray laboratory room I saw every day through bulletproof glass.
Computers, chemical supplies, triple reinforced glass tanks containing alien larva and face hugging socmavaj.
And there she was, just as I remembered her. A tall slender woman with a stern angular face and thick blonde curls framing her face. I didn't understand why she had on desert camo fatigues, but it didn't matter, I was still overjoyed to see her. "Ripley!"
"C'mon, Newt!" she hissed. "Time to go!"
"You came to rescue me!" I cried. "You actually came back for me!"
The woman rolled her eyes. "You have a lot of friends looking for you. We should get out of here while the getting's good."
I saw no sign of recognition on the woman's features, like she had merely been sent on this rescue mission by someone else. I guess it shouldn't surprise me. I didn't look the same.
A hexagonally shaped corridor lay outside the entrance to the lab. The moment the woman rushed out there, I saw a flash, and her body got stuck with dozens of tranquilizer darts. She collapsed on the floor.
Four men in white biohazard suits carried her away.
I got scared, retreating back into my cell.
Item Twelve: Someone tried to rescue me, and failed.
Item Thirteen: I remember being imprisoned in a place called Ghost Island.
[0000]
DOCUMENT ID #000741011611601:
Interview with Subject 2294963 - Ghost Island Facility, Earth
LIMITED DISTRIBUTION - DESTROY AS "FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY"
Our examination began on an upper floor of the annex. Subject favored the room because of the sunlight, and the view of the small forest beyond. She appeared to enjoy watching the geese and little things happening along the ground from the narrow bulletproof windows, though she bears no visible set of eyes.
Subject was a small xenomorph larva, one with a tube shaped body and sharp little teeth. Its dainty limbs were occupied playing with a circa 1970's Winnie the Pooh playset. She seemed harmless, but as a precaution she had been placed behind a barrier of the same bulletproof material.
A framed picture of the Cat in the Hat hung on the wall above a toy box filled with assorted amusements. She had a flat screen TV and a little bookcase. The playset, a plastic tree with a treehouse at the top, stood on the top of a circular table, which she climbed upon to place dolls inside. Her body, although worm-like in shape, has a hard exoskeleton which allows her to easily perform this action. She silently mouthed things as she played alone.
My section of the room had a more functional and business-like design. File cabinets for case information, a computer and a desk. A ficus in the corner. The only bit of silliness on my side of the barrier was a framed picture of The Trollusk and the Hat.
Cameras and microphones had been positioned in several key locations to record the proceedings. One camera was infrared to monitor the creature's internal bodily processes.
Several puzzling things had been stated about this creature, which I attempted to clarify in this interview. I activated the recording equipment.
"Hello," I said. "My name is Doctor Robert South. What is your name?
The larva's head did not turn in my direction. She's still playing with her toys.
"Rebecca Ann Jorden. My friends call me Newt."
"Newt-" I began.
"It's Ms. Jorden to you." she interrupted.
"Right. Ms. Jorden. You speak English quite well for a xenomorph. Can you tell me a little something about that?"
She set down her doll, her eyeless face pointing at me. "I've always speaked English. Mommy and daddy taught me. "
She placed a little doll in a plastic rocking chair. "How come you don't have Pooh and the owl to complete the set?"
I had to smile, this creature was very convincing. "They got lost. It's a very old toy."
"It looks brand new to me. The color isn't even faded."
"It's been in storage for awhile," I said. "We don't get many children around here. Tell me something. How can you see?"
"I have eyes on the inside," she answered. "My shell is like the glass on cop shows. At least, up front...are you scared of me?"
The question took me aback. I had been taking notes with a pen, but the line got messed up. "I have to admit, a little. Why?"
"I can kinda see your heart beating. It's a warm spot in the middle of the cooler area."
Infrared. How fascinating! Note: I must tell maintenance to install something to prevent these creatures from sensing heat through the glass.
Honestly, I was terrified. "So you see heat?"
"Yes, but I can also read."
I heard the soft bump of a pigeon slapping against the shiny window. Our subject made a purring noise in amusement.
"I've been told that xenomorphs don't see at all," I said. "I heard they're guided by smell."
"We're called Ss'sik'chtokiwij. Whoever said that we can't see is wrong." She tilted her head. "You're wearing a blue shirt with a black tie."
This was correct. My other shirts were in the wash. "Where do you come from?"
She was playing with the toys again, not paying attention. "What?"
"Where are you from? Where is your home?"
"Planet LV 426. The Hadley's Hope colony."
Her strange little body rounded itself in sadness. "Of course it's not there anymore. It got blowed up."
In my folder was a photograph of the girl this thing identified with, a cute little plump faced girl with short length straw colored hair. I mentally debated showing it to her.
"I've seen pictures of Rebecca Jorden," I said. "Her body was in a morgue at Fiorina 161. Are you sure you're really her?"
"Are you really sure you're you?"
I wasn't sure what to make of this response. Similar lines of reasoning have been used by inmates at mental asylums.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," I said.
"I don't either. All I know is, I died, I went to heaven, and somehow I ended up in this body."
I leaned forward in my chair, thinking I had somehow stumbled upon an official alien religion. "You mean like reincarnation?"
"What's that?"
I explained the concept to her.
"That's dumb," Newt said. "What if you're wrong, and you don't get another chance?
I gave her a nod, guessing that she could see the gesture. "Apparently you did, didn't you?"
"That's different. I went to heaven and saw Jesus. He said he made a special exception, so I could help the Ss'sik'chtokiwij. He said when my task is done, I'll be able to stay with my mommy and daddy forever, with him."
She seemed genuinely saddened by this alleged exile from heaven, as if she believed every word she said. What could this creature have possibly encountered on Fiorina to produce such mental delusions?
"Ms. Jorden," I said. "How did you die?
"It happened after Ripley put me to sleep in that pod."
According to records, Ellen Ripley, sole survivor of the Nostromo incident, aided a rescue mission to Hadley's Hope. Newt, a human, was the last surviving colonist. The little girl was placed in a cryogenic pod onboard the rescue ship, Sulaco, but she didn't survive the crash that followed.
I jumped at the chance to poke a hole in her story. "I heard about that. She drowned in her pod."
"You're wrong. I didn't drown. Ernie's grandmother laid an egg in my chest. " She sighed. "But I've forgiven her for that."
The "Ernie" she refers to is Subject 78453760, an adult xenomorph who is currently working on the completion of an online seminary degree. The "grandmother", according to record, is Subject 94202227, the massive egg laying queen discovered by the scientific research division at Hadley's Hope and at Fiorina. I have explored the psychology of these two in other interviews.
"There were no signs of larva hatching from the girl's body," I said.
"Did you see the body yourself?"
I had to admit I didn't.
"Well, then you don't know. It came out of my body, I died, and then I took this thing's body. Because of Jesus."
True or not, the creature's story was internally consistent. I was impressed. "That's some story!"
"It's true." She was now snapping together gray Legos with her little claws. We had medieval themed ones set out for her, so she may have been trying to build a castle. "When can I have Big Blue back?"
Big Blue is an azure three foot tall stuffed dog, her most cherished possession. During her long hours of solitude, it has served as her only friend. She curls up against it, speaks to it, and at night she burrows into its chest cavity and sleeps within the stuffing.
The first couple nights she did this, an alarm was raised because we didn't know where she went. The department had the dog confiscated.
"I'm not sure," I said.
She set up a square perimeter of blocks on the green board that comes with the Legos. "Ernie was supposed to sew me a special pouch, like a sleeping bag. Inside him. Has she started yet? No one wants to tell me."
Subject 78453760 has a skill for sewing. She's been allowed knitting tools, but she remains under constant surveillance. Right now, she's working on the Last Supper in needlepoint. I heard nothing about a stuffed dog.
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't have that information."
"Can you ask someone who does?"
The creature was surprisingly intelligent for her species. I continued to be surprised by how humanlike her thought process was. Her sense of justice, of personal entitlement, her stubbornness...
" I...I can't promise you anything," I said.
The purpose of this interview was to establish what "Newt" is capable of, militaristically speaking. The Ernie specimen proved to be something of a pacifist, so we hoped for a better military application with this one.
To this end, the staff installed sort of a protected movie screen in Newt's cell, running action movies and war films 24-7, with a few shows from the military channel thrown in for good measure. Her favorite so far appears to be Airwolf. Of course, despite all the explosions, the program generally tends to be nonviolent and wholesome. The helicopter seldom guns down soldiers on the ground.
And even then, when it came on, she often played with her back to the screen.
"What did you think about the movie last night?" I glanced at a card listing the showings. I would never let a kid watch some of these movies. "...The Expendables?
She gave me an indifferent shrug. "It was all right. I didn't like all that violence, though."
An alleged child. Hating the naughty types of films that normal kids would sneak away and watch when their parents aren't looking. This made me smile a little. "How about The Terminator? That one had robots in it."
"I guess that was okay," she said, finishing up a second Lego side wall. "Why do you keep showing me violent movies for? Why can't I watch something about wizards and princesses?"
"It's just an experiment," I said.
"I don't like this experiment. It makes it hard for me to sleep. It reminds me of that movie where they poked that guy's eyelids open with toothpicks and made him watch stuff."
Trying to complete the thought, I suggested, "A Clockwork Orange?"
"I...think. Was that the one where the dog throws up in a guy's shoe and gets put in obedience school?"
"No," I said. "That's...something else."
I later found out this was a reference to a rerun of Amazing Stories.
"Anyways, I don't like it. I don't like movies where people get all bloody and get killed. I see too much of that in real life."
I stuck with the agenda. "I'm afraid that's a fact of life. It's unavoidable. Even the bible is full of violence..."
"That's not the same thing. Jesus didn't shoot and kill people."
Impressive. Not only was I debating morality with a larval xenomorph, there was theology entering the discussion. "How did you learn about Jesus?"
"From mommy and daddy. They took me to church."
Still consistent with what she previously stated. The creature truly believed she was human in an alien body. "This was when you were human?"
"Yeah."
Human or not, it was not my job to convince her what she was. "Newt, I mean, Ms. Jorden...Do you remember that episode of NCIS we showed you? The one where Dinozo rescues Ziva from that holding cell in the desert?"
"That was kinda boring."
"I mention this because I want to know something. Say one of your friends gets kidnapped by a bad man, and they're being held prisoner in some terrible place. What would you do about it?"
Her castle had four walls now. She put a little man and a flag on the parapet. "I guess I'd...forgive them, and let them stick me in a cell in a secret military base."
It seemed even aliens had sarcasm.
"So you think we're bad people."
She shrugged. "When I see those movies, I think of killing people here to escape. But Ernie doesn't want me to, maybe Jesus doesn't either. I pray about it sometimes. Why can't I go outside? I'm tired of being cooped up indoors!"
Her thoughts seemed to bounce from one thing to another, just like a human child. I decided to address the latter question first. "I'm sorry. That's just not safe."
"I'm not going to hurt anyone. Like I said, Ernie said I shouldn't hurt people."
Her argument was convincing, but there were rules. Plus, if she ever snapped... "I'm sorry. It's not possible."
She scampered up to the glass, appearing to stare at me intently. "I saw Canada geese. Can I see Ernie?"
"I'm sorry," I said. "Not yet."
"When?"
I had a sudden flashback of my son pestering me as I typed away on the computer. I shook the thought away, wondering if the creature caught its prey by convincing them to let their guard down.
"I'm sorry. I have to do what upper management tells me."
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Author's note: I welcome comments and feedback. If you find something confusing about my story, please be specific about what part confuses you so I know what to fix. I've recently added "signposting" to draw the focus back on the "real world," so to speak. I hope this helps.
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