Page 1 of An Alien for the Future

1

DONNA

Ma once said, “Life’s like a game of dodgeball, sugar. Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, here comes a curveball aimed straight at your pretty little head. You gotta duck, weave, or catch that ball and throw it right on back. Tough times don’t last, sugar, but tough people sure do.” She’d set a large slice of freshly made cornbread before me, still hot from the oven. Even now, I still remember how good it tasted.

I stare at the cornbread on the counter before me now. It’s nothing like Ma’s. For one, it’s made from a pale blue grain called grushi, the flour just as blue as the grain itself. The texture’s all wrong. Gritty and dense, nothing like the light, crumbly perfection Ma used to whip up. And the smell? Well, it’s a strange mix of earthy and faintly sweet, like beetroot. Not the warm, buttery aroma I know so well.

I sigh, cutting a slice and turning it over in my palm. It’s been years since I’ve tasted real cornbread. Sometimes I wonder if my memories of Ma’s cooking are just getting sweeter with time and distance, like a faded photograph. All the sharp edges softened, the imperfections blurred away.

And, sometimes, I think maybe I’m too old to be missing my mother’s cooking. A soft, resigned laugh huffs through my nose as I stare at the “bluebread” in my palm. Maybe this whole alien abduction thing has me going crazy. Missing things like the sound of rain on a tin roof and the taste of a strawberry milkshake on a summer afternoon.

“Oh, Ma…” I whisper. “If you could see this now, you’d say I caught one hell of a curveball and ran with it.” My gaze slides from the bread to the scene out my window. “I finally got my wish about seeing the world, but you wouldn’t believe just how far out I’ve ended up.”

Before me, my kitchen window gives a view of the Hudoian plains stretching into the distance, a sea of orange grass rippling under a pink sky. Soft golden clouds drift lazily towards the horizon. It’s beautiful, serene, like a postcard from another world. Which, I suppose, it is.

Just not the one I ever expected to call home.

Lifting the slice of the bluebread, I take a bite, my eyes still on the view. The quiet of the plains grips me. Out there, through my window, not even the wind makes a sound. It’s no wonder I’m reflecting on things from long ago, dredging up old memories, old worries. Seeking something…else. Only, I’m not sure what.

I knew I’d be alone in this wilderness, this farm out here in the doohickies, but I didn’t quite understand just how…peaceful it would be. Howquiet.

All I’ve got, apart from the animals and the soft sound of insects, is my big ‘ole voice in my head. All I can do isthink. And too much thinking has never gotten me anywhere good.

I grunt, chewing slowly as another sigh makes my shoulder rise and fall. My gaze shifts to the view of the road and I sigh again.

For a moment, I don’t see anything there—which isn’t surprising. No one comes this way. It’s the reason the NewHorizons Initiative was so tempting. The whole reason I signed up. They promised peace and safety, and after waking up from something called “stasis” surrounded by aliens in an intergalactic war, peace and safety sounded real good.

I’m about to turn away from the window and dump the entire tin of bluebread when I notice movement on the road. Whoever is coming is still a far way off, but I spot the white fur anyway. My heart does a little thud. A little leap.

It’s Xarion, the New Horizons representative who introduced me to this place. I never thought I’d be so happy to see an alien pulling up to my door, but Xarion’s my only friend—apart from the two other humans I know who signed up for the initiative.

Plopping the bluebread back on the counter, I cut another slice and put it on a flat square I use as a saucer. I’m out the door and by the gate by the time Xarion pulls up.

“Well, look what the Hudoian wind blew in.” I grin at the rabbit-like alien as he comes closer, the ooga he’s riding making him sway with each step.

I don’t want to admit it, but I’m a little excited to see his expressionless face, and that’s saying something. I really am starved for company, aren’t I?

“I can assure you, the wind was quite tame this journey,” Xarion says. “It had zero effect on my speed of arrival.”

I snort. “Mmhm.” My gaze shifts over him. He’s dressed like he usually is. In a dark suit that makes me wonder how he’s not burning up in this warm weather. “What are you doing all the way out here, anyway? Come to check if the wilderness hasn’t swallowed me whole yet?”

Xarion hops off the ooga with such grace I want to roll my eyes at him. His feet land on the dusty earth almost without a sound. “I am here on a welfare check.” Those red eyes shift to me as he secures his ooga to my fence. “I trust your acclimationto Hudo III continues…smoothly?” He glances at the slice of bluebread in my hand, his nose twitching slightly.

“Oh, it’s been a real hoot.” I brandish the bread, thrusting it in his direction. “In fact, I was just about to declare this the best darn bluebread on the planet. Want a bite?”

It’s hard to hold back my smirk as I hold the food out to him, knowing full well he won’t touch it. Not Xarion, with his refined palate and access to the delicacies of a thousand worlds. He wouldn’t be caught dead eating something as…rustic as my bluebread.

His nose twitches again. “I appreciate the offer, Donna Johnson, but I’m afraid I’m not particularly…” He pauses, I suppose, to search for the right word.

“Hungry?” I offer, unable now to hold back my grin. “Famished? On the verge of starvation?”

“All three.”

I roll my eyes, following his gaze as it shifts down to my little farmhouse.

“You’re doing well with the place. The New Horizons board will be pleased.”

“Mmhm.” I roll my eyes again, pushing off from where I was leaning on a fence post to start walking back down to the house, because I just know what he’s going to say next. He’s alluded to it many times before.

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