#humc.

TWYLA PORTER | THE QUARK | HUMAN | 26

You collect secrets like some collect stamps or sexual conquests, each one displayed like a jewel inside your mind. You watch, look and listen— you drift through the world as a simple bystander to the madness. You’ll never revel your own secret, the visions that plague you in the middle of the night. You’ve been given a gift, to watch the present and the future as they unfold. You might not be able to change the horrid future you see, but you can compel others. It’s the only way. 

BIOGRAPHY

(TW: CAR ACCIDENT)

You were born with stars in your eyes, darling girl. Your father, an astronomer at the Very Large Array, taught you to keep your chin up and  always keep an eye out for those less fortunate. He wanted to help those coming to your planet, every night he looked for signs of more weary travellers. And every day he helped your mother organize paperwork as she went to court, trying to fight the injustices that were befalling other species as they tried to make homes here. Calling your life sheltered isn’t quite right- you never lack for information, you’re never ignorant to the problems of the world, but you see it all through rose tinted glass. Every problem can be solved with the right amount of courage, wit, and luck; every question you have can be answered with enough time.

Except for those visions. The ones that rumble in like thunderstorms and startle you in the middle of the night; they leave you sweating and breathless, crying for your parents. They take you to all kinds of specialists, trying to find out what could be causing such vivid dreams, what on earth could be waking you up in the night in cold sweats. They do sleep studies, MRIs, CT scans, they run every test imaginable and find no reason why your night terrors should leave you screaming for help. Maybe it’s puberty, maybe it will go away with age, there’s no telling what the next thing to unfold. After months of hoping, they don’t go away. They get worse, rooms that you swear you’ve seen before, people who are too familiar to be strangers, jokes you know the punchline to. You don’t know when you decided it was the future that you were seeing, but somewhere along the way deja vu just kept knocking you in the stomach.

Which is not something that you tell your parents. Instead you swear that the nightmares have gone away, that you’re so sure that you’ve gotten better. With nothing to show for, they have no choice but to believe that their little girl was just the victim of some anomaly that’s left her. They did have their own lives to focus on anyways. And really, it starts to matter less to you. Your vision are of strangers talking in allies, people dancing at night without any regard. Sometimes there’s violence, but you’re too young to do anything and too scared to call a police department. You can’t even be sure there’s something you could have done. The news reports are so definitive as you scan them, print them, store them away. Nothing would have changed what happened, let alone a growing girl with wide eyes and a father who tells her silly stories.

Despite this one secret that pulls at the corner of your every thought, you grow up in a completely normal life. There’s nothing picturesque about your hometown, but it’s safe enough for you to ride bikes with friends and avoid any kind of trouble. Almost any kind of trouble- but really you come out unscathed, the kind of sweet and gentle daughter only your loving parents could have raised. There’s nothing holding you back in this world, least of all college. The University of New Mexico greets you with open arms, promises of a degree in astrophysics and courses in pre-law. Your visions don’t push you there so much as your parents, hoping for someone to follow in their footsteps, continue to fight the battle for those unheard. And you’re genuinely happy with the possibility it could be you. There seems to be no other way that your life could go, if you really thought about it. You were supposed to listen to their words, follow their examples, continue the path that they left behind. There was never going to be peace in this world unless you were there to see it through.

And yet you were always just a little distracted in classes, needed an extra cup of coffee to make it through lectures. Joked with yourself that your visions should have shown you test answers not the next extraterrestrial announcement. Something didn’t sit right with you about the experience, but you weren’t about to go back on the promise that you made your parents. You keep your chin up and your eyes out for those less fortunate, and you’re set to graduate on the honor roll. Invitations to humanitarian work, law schools, and lobbying firms pour in, your life extends in front of you in a constellation of different patterns, each one shining more than the next. None of them fit perfectly in your heart, but your mother tells you over the phone that they don’t need to, you’ll grow into the career that you choose. That no one is happy at twenty four, but you will be.

And then you have the vision. Glass shatters in front of you, metal crunches in your ears. Somewhere you smell smoke, and there’s the taste of blood in your mouth. You’ve experienced car accidents before, but never like this. This is quick and turbulent, sparks fly as the car skids across the street, this is fatal. And then you see your father’s glasses fly and your blood runs cold, it freezes in your veins, threatens to stop your heart. You know who’s in the car, you know just where it’s heading, and you know, as dread pulls the air from your lungs, that it’s not going to reach its destination. The first thing you do when you wake is call your mother, your voice is hoarse from the screaming you must have done, tears uncontrollable as you tell her that they cannot come for your graduation, that you refuse to let them drive. She doesn’t understand that you’ve seen the future, that you’re trying to save her life; she puts on her best mother voice and tells you that it’s only a nightmare like when you were a little girl, that all you need is a cup of warm milk and they’ll be there in the morning.

You can’t let it happen. You get into your own beat up station wagon and fly into the night, for the first time in your life taking action, doing something about what you see. Your parents had the same idea- jumping into action to calm their only daughter. Maybe you were always meant to be the first person to arrive at the scene of their accident, the one to call the cops and tell them that there’d been a head on collision in the middle of the night. Maybe if you had never called in the first place they would have still been in bed sleeping. Maybe there was nothing you could have done; they were always going to end up as the tragic victims of an accident that no one  could have seen coming. And just maybe, this is all your fault.

It would seem for someone trying so hard to stay away from politics, Roswell would be the last place for you to go, but you’ve never been one for subtlety. You’ve resigned yourself to a life on the fringes, one as far away from the memory of your parents, and one that doesn’t require other people to help. It takes some time to adjust to the life you’ve created for yourself, every time you overthink things, they just get more confusing and convoluted, you create a life that could only suit a girl hiding from the future. After all, what good has it ever done you.

CONNECTIONS

THE ISOMER: Friends. A word that once propelled you far away pulls you close, they’re very existence in this web of lies interested you from the beginning. They were just always around, always taking notes of everything and everyone. While you might have not had the purest intentions when approaching them, whatever ulterior motive has melted away in their company.

THE HEXADECIMAL: You offer them a solution, a brilliant idea if you say so yourself. They give you guidance, like the older sibling you wished for, but it won’t be enough. You plead with them to start something, a group, a society of sorts. To pass down what both of you know, so this never happens again. 

THE ISOTOPE: They didn’t keep their secret hidden very well, especially for such a prize on your wall. The scorned royal, it always brews something and a rebellion would certainly lead directly towards the ruin that haunts you. So you offer your time and nothing else, and they seem to take it. Even if you spend most of it in silence, there’s a breaking point somewhere. 

POPPY GRISWALD | THE BINARY | HUMAN | 22

You were not born into royalty, rather it was thrust upon you, with marbled tiles and mahogany shelves. You took to it like a fish in the water, slotting into the role with grace and ease. You’ve always the perfect child, you have to be, slowly blossoming into the heir your parents have yearned for. The pressure surrounding you might be crushing, pushing out everything innocent about it, but in the end, isn’t it all worth it? 

BIOGRAPHY 

Adopted at an age too young to remember your previous life, your family was quick to fill your head with new rules and lessons. You’re a Griswald now, someone who was plucked from obscurity and give a life filled with everything your heart could desire. You can do nothing but be grateful as your parents shower you with gifts and affection, as they show you a standard of living that most people will only ever dream of. You’ve never had a choice, you were going to make your parents sure that they chose the right baby girl, that they were going to have the perfect heir. There was never a doubt in your heart as you grew from a precocious toddler to the little girl that was enrolled in dance classes and piano lessons. And although you had a brother to rely on, to prop you up when you were feeling low, someone to confide in; some part of you always wanted to do a little better than him. To prove to your parents that you were the right child for them. There’s a future for you here, one where you carry on all the hopes and dreams that the Griswalds could have wanted when they adopted two children for their legacy, and it’s one that you’re privileged to be a part of.

The conservative opinions that flew around you seemed to be just another part of the lifestyle. You repeated what your father said without understanding the meaning, without pretending like you cared to know. What mattered was the look of approval on his face when you repeated what he said, how you enthusiastically nodded along to the conversations of friends, even when you were too young to really know what they were saying. There was a moment when you could have been corrected, when someone could have explained what they really meant, what this elite one percent stood for, but that moment passed and you were left with the hollow mantras and no real beliefs. There’s a future where your company is run by the statement ‘although all people are equal, humans are more equal’ and you can’t see a way around that.

Such thoughts were only cemented by the boarding school that you were sent to, all the kids around you whispering what their parents said and teachers nodding as if there was no way to go against those who paid their salaries. The role of a leader was one that you seemed born to play from the start, you were the president of clubs, a group of silly girls always behind you- propagating you as a leader, telling you that you were brave, that you were smart. Which would have filled your heart with confidence, had you any idea what you were really doing here. There was a loneliness at your core, that seemed to grow even as people told you that you were popular and well-liked, that you were going to succeed in this life. Your grades were immaculate, always held up to compare with your brother’s, although you tried your best to ignore those comments. He seemed to be your only real friend in the world, you wouldn’t let school come between the two of you, not for anything in the world. There’s a future for you, where people respect what you say, because you’re the one who said it, and that started when you yelled at people to leave the Griswalds alone or face your wrath.

But he still seemed to pull further and further away from you, into a world that you couldn’t see and couldn’t understand if you had. You were left more and more alone, the people who surrounded you didn’t really know you, they couldn’t understand that you needed to prove to your parents that you were the right choice. That out of all the kids they could have adopted, you were the one that was going to carry on their legacy. You may not have every really believed in what your parents stood for, but you were going to repeat it until it sounded like you did. You were going to go to the school that they wanted you to, and study the major they believed would further your career. There’s a future for you, one that’s going to see you married, having children, working at a job that will support you for the rest of your life; it’s a future that your parents picked out but they know what they’re doing.

Although having every aspect of your life dictated for twenty years, and following to the letter, is hardly the way for a girl to grow up. Even as you said that you were happy with this life, that you didn’t mind your brother leaving, that you were glad to see a clear future ahead of you- you were slowly crushing from the weight. Leaving for New Mexico wasn’t you waving a white flag, you told your parents it was the opposite. That you were going to further your own education and help your brother see the error in his ways. And after all this time, how could they not believe you. The last thing that you wanted was the announcement of a council, something for your parents to call you up and give you their rules for. You were going to be a pro-human advocate, that’s what you always told them you believed in, and you’ve never disappointed them. There’s a future where you’re going to carry on the Griswald name and everything it stands for even if it hollows you out and leaves you burning with what could have been.

CONNECTIONS

THE SCHRÖDINGER: Partners in crime since childhood, your sibling has always acted as your best friend and confidant throughout times good and bad. You’ve seen the company they keep, the types of people they sneak out at night to meet. Of course it’s not the right types of people, they couldn’t possibly do anything to alleviate the burden you bare. You’ll have to be the perfect child on your own.  

THE CACHE: You begrudgingly work with them, despite the clear superiority of humans in your field. It’s clear they don’t want anything to do with you, going out of their way to avoid you in all aspects. In a way, you need them, because without someone else to beat down on you’ll be stuck with just your mediocre engineering skills and a disappointed family. 

THE RASTER: Off again, on again; their childish behavior has earned more than just your annoyance, often it earns your scorn as well. The second a drop of liquor enters your bloodstream, your drunken self finds them endearing. It’s not good for either of you, to go round and round between love and hate. Though, making up your mind isn’t what you’d like either.  

FLINT CROMWELL | THE HAWKING | HUMAN | 23

You’ve always been a shadow, quiet and unassuming in both personality and life. A perfect angel, you can do no wrong, or at least that’s what everyone ascribes to you. The truth is much sadder, if only you could be as perfect as everyone’s expectations. Instead you’ve had the fight beaten out of you and there’s nothing you could do to gain it back. You’re a robot in human skin, even before the events transpired no feeling stirred inside your heart.

BIOGRAPHY

Raised by two engineers in Albuquerque, Flint grew up tinkering with anything he could get his hands on. His parents’ project towards the beginning of his life, however, was one that would impact their lives forever: the creation of Androids 2.0. It was a long, complicated process to update the android operating systems, especially as two species worked together to create a new product. Flint’s parents were overworked and underpaid, and Flint was mostly raised by his grandmother. However, when his parents returned home, he was not exactly living in a loving atmosphere. He was often fed dinner and sent to his bedroom, so his parents could continue work on their projects. He never really questioned this fact, and instead preferred to tinker with toys until he was tired enough to fall asleep.

With the failure of their project, Flint’s parents became even more distant towards him. What they thought of as their greatest success, a machine with feelings, had been deemed dangerous and they were ordered to dismantle every single android that had been created. It was heartbreaking to them, and though they had more time to spend with Flint, they chose instead to throw themselves into other projects. Felix grew up quickly, learning how to pack his own lunch in second grade. He walked to and from school, and threw himself into books. With little opportunity for socialization at home, he struggled with making friends but was an excellent student and began making his own ‘projects’ in middle school. Simple devices such as automatic pancake flippers and fish feeders were soon popping up around the Cromwell house, but his parents didn’t take any notice.

When Flint got to high school, his household became more hostile. His mother had struggled to find work while his father worked at a computer company, staying far away from artificial intelligence. His mother spent more time at home and more time drinking, which led to more time harassing Flint. His parents seemed to think he was going nowhere with his life, though he was working on projects similar to their own in his bedroom. Whenever he received a bad grade on a test or did something else his parents disapproved of, his mother would hit him until his back was raw. By senior year, Flint had a plan. He was going to save enough money to get out of Albuquerque and away from the parents that never truly cared. Even if he wasn’t going to make it to college, he could at least be far away from the horrors that hid in his home. He found a job at a cafe in Albuquerque and spent close to none of the money he made working every night after school. Saving it in a shoebox under his bed, for fear of his parents finding out he opened a bank account, by the end of his senior year he had enough to take a bus to Roswell. Flint has now spent 4 years in Roswell, saving up what he hopes to be enough money to attend a good engineering school. Though he’s sure the University of New Mexico would help him on the path to an engineering career, he’s not sure if he’s ready to be in the same city as his parents once more. For now, he’ll stay in Roswell, serving patrons at all hours of the night.  

CONNECTIONS

THE PLANCKIAN: Your protector, your moral guide of sorts, despite all the times you’ve explained you’re not immoral. They don’t get you, in fact it seems they’ve created an entire personality that doesn’t feel much like you. But you’ve known them for a long time, you’re childhood friends of a sort. It feels wrong to leave them behind. 

THE QUANTA: They see you as a blank slate, something to mold and change into their own monstrous creation. You’re not blind, you can sense evil intentions from a mile away, but you can’t bring yourself to stay away. From the way they speak and move, it captivates you in a way someone once described as fear. 

THE COG: A robot who can feel emotions pairs well with a human incapable of such feats. They’re a remnant of Luytan technology, one humanity has taught to be scared of. Instead you were fascinated and soon that fascination turned into a relationship. They paint you a picture of feelings and emotions like no other, one you’d love to drown in.

JESSE GRISWALD | THE SCHRÖDINGER | HUMAN | 22

You’re a paradox, a black sheep break-away from your family of staunch politicians, eager to tamp down on extra-stellar immigration. Where they are loud, you are quiet; where they crave the spotlight, you crave darkness. You seek nothing more in life than to be authentically you, but it seems as if that dream may never come true. 

BIOGRAPHY

The Griswald pedigree is one prestige and honor, of hallowed halls and marble floors, mahogany bookcases filled to the ceiling with only the substantial literature and prominent authors. Surrounded by the best human lawyers, politicians and doctors, Jesse always felt cut from a different cloth. Like he didn’t belong, a jigsaw piece from another puzzle pushed into a spot it didn’t fit. His parents tried to placate him, saying that genetics made no difference, that being raised as a Griswald was enough. For whatever reason, it always rung a little hollow.

Raised in the lap of luxury, with a personal staff at both of his family's large estates, Jesse was slated to become like the rest of the human upper class, conservative in their opinions and company. He was surrounded by talk of how distasteful extraterrestrials were, how they would never fully integrate with human ideals. Instead of soaking it up like a sponge, hanging on to every word they spoke, you instead became intrigued. What were these aliens even like? How different were they truly? It seemed none of his questions were acceptable to his mother and father, who simply tried to change the subject instead.

As Jesse attended boarding school since he was small, clutching the bottom of his mother’s skirt begging her not to leave him, he had little opportunity to meet anyone non-human. The ornate halls of wood and stone he attended were simply not open to anyone without a famous human pedigree. Quiet through his primary schooling, Jesse was mostly noted as a dreamer and a shy child, who’d rather doodle over his textbooks or paint pictures of the sky than interact with others his age. His grades in the liberal arts were only mediocre, something his parents would be continually disappointed in. They never looked at the high praise from art class or how he had the highest grade in biology and botany.

With his teenage years, Jesse soon met the first of many extraterrestrial friends, his shyness melting into a fierce, but quiet independence from all forms of authority. His first of many was an accident, he’d bumped into them while rushing to catch a train, covering the both of them with black coffee. As an apology, Jesse bought them coffee from a little cafe he frequented, sharing artistic visions over sips of warm mugs. It was the beginning of an entire young adulthood of meet ups, whether it was the stark white galleries and museums or the rich woods and reds of a library, Jesse had finally found his fit.

He still felt the need to live a two-faced life, hiding his closest and dearest friends from his parents and sibling, for fear of rejection by the people who raised him. He lied to his friends about his name, the Griswald family well known as prominent advocates of human supremacy over extraterrestrials. Soon his web of lies and falsities became too much, strangling him slowly until it became impossible to tell what was real and fake. In the end, he just couldn’t take it. He cut himself off from all of his friendships, both the ones his family approved of and didn’t and spent most of his days locked inside his room, painting the night sky.

The move was supposed to raise his spirits, the change in location shock him back into the person he once was. Though, after three years of attending the University of New Mexico, a lonely melancholy is all that surrounds Jesse Griswald. It’s all he can do, the memories of late night laughter around a trash fire too painful to even indulge in.

CONNECTIONS

THE TESSERACT: You’re not supposed like them, their family and yours have been at odds since the first star-ship touched down on yellow and white sand. Instead you’ve found the company you always craved, a best friend through thick and thin. But nobody can ever know, you’ll just have to keep them a secret. It’s a secret that breaks your heart day by day. 

THE HALOGEN: A school-yard bully you called them, picking on extra-terrestrials simply because they could get away with it. Now, it seems as if they’ve learned the error of their ways and you’re somewhat willing to help them integrate themself in this world. You’re suspicious, sure, but who are you to deny someone seeking to remedy their mistakes?

THE BINARY: Siblings through and through, even if not a drop of blood is shared between you. It doesn’t matter to you, your bond since childhood is stronger than any genetics. It’s hard when you hear them speak ill of the other species, how they look down on them as less than. It’s driven a wedge between you, created a cold war between ideals. It seems your parents are winning that one.