Today’s Author Write Now for Nov. 22: Ignorance is Servitude

Hollywood had it wrong. Spaceships didn’t descend and obliterate cities. No plucky human hero stumbled on the secret weakness, allowing the human race to fight off the alien threat. Heck, the invasion had already begun, but nobody noticed. Most still don’t notice. I only know about it because I used to be a doctor.

I guess I still am, although the Hippocratic Oath no longer holds much meaning for me. No, I am first and foremost a freedom fighter now. I have surrounded myself with others I have managed to convince of the truth. Together we fight against our unseen overlords, fighting the good fight in the hopes we can free ourselves.

Sometimes I despair we just make matters worse.

It all started, we believe, with a meteor shower. An innocuous and common enough occurrence that nobody, except for astronomers, really paid notice. Of course, people scrambled to find remnants so they could claim to own a piece of space-rock, while scientists collected samples for study.

One of my former patients, a man by the name of Jeremiah Timmons, loved astronomy. He collected one of the fragments from ground zero. I like to think of him as Patient Zero, at least in my own little drama. He came to me two years ago. “Dr. Archibald,” he cried, tears streaming. “My head’s killing me! Nothing I take works! Please, can you give me something?”

If I knew then what I know now, I would have filled a needle with air and injected him with it, giving him an embolism. Instead, I ordered a MRI. I sat in the control room, watching the scan in progress. I’ll never forget Mr. Timmons’ screams as a small cylindrical object burrowed through his spinal cord and out of his neck, attracted by the magnetic scan.

The tech shut the machine down, while nurses and I charged into the room. We checked Mr. Timmons; the trauma to his spinal cord proved too severe. He died, the lucky bastard.

One of my nurses, Cynthia Freeman, grabbed what came out of Mr. Timmons. I glanced over, long enough to see the small silvery object, kind of like a tiny screw, open its end wide and fly into her ear canal. Like a fool, I didn’t believe my own eyes.

Cynthia, to my amazement, didn’t react. “Nurse Freeman, are you alright?” I asked.

Her eyes looked glazed for moment before resuming their normal sharp focus.  “I’m fine Dr. Archibald. I’ll just go get a gurney for Mr. Timmons.”

She walked out of the room before I could say anything else. I turned back to the confused and worried faces of the MRI staff. “This wasn’t anybody’s fault. We didn’t know he had metal in his body, and he didn’t tell us. I’ll make sure I mention your…”

Nurse Freeman strolled back in, without a gurney. I opened my mouth, but my words died as she swiped a scalpel across the throat of a technician. I hesitated, but she didn’t, and soon everyone in the room lay dead or bleeding out on the floor. She came after me and I just stood there until survival instincts kicked in and I moved at the last second. Instead of my throat, she caught my shoulder.

I staggered out and back into the control room. I turned on the MRI and watched what happened to Mr. Timmons replay itself a second time. Cynthia’s screams battle with Jeremiah’s in my dreams.

This time I didn’t turn the machine off. I stumbled over, ignoring the glassy death stares accusing me. The object wiggled and squirmed, trying to free itself and infect me. I grabbed the scalpel, and, fighting against the magnet, managed to stab the damnable thing.

I collected it for study and got the hell out of there. For two years I’ve studied this creature and others we’ve managed to capture. This is what we know:

They reproduce asexually, using the minerals found in the human body to create more. If you are anemic, well, I’m sorry.

Their spawn are actually spores that spread the same way as a virus. If you’re around an infected and they sneeze, again, I’m sorry.

They are empathic and feed of our emotions. Strong emotions, especially negative, nourish them and make them more powerful. They actually give off  “vibes,” for lack of a better word, that excite the chemical centers of the brain that control emotion.

They have infiltrated our society up to the highest levels.

They have turned society against us, calling us kooks or conspiracy theorists. They hunt us.

We hunt them right back, but I hold no illusions. Humanity lost a war it didn’t even know started.

The next time some old man holds up “The End Of The World Is Nigh,” tell him it already happened. Now you know the truth. Look over your shoulder, good luck, and, I can’t say this enough, I’m sorry.

***

This is my contribution for Today’s Author and their Write Now Prompt:

The invasion had already begun, but nobody noticed.

And the obligatory rules:

  1. Write in any format or style you wish: short story, poem, script – whatever you like.
  2. Write for at least 5 minutes. There is no time limit – write for as long as you wish!
  3. Editing is not required, though we do recommend that you run a spell check at least.
  4. Post your work to your blog and include a link back here so your readers can find other writer’s work, too.
  5. Come back here and provide a link to your work on the Write Now! prompt for which it was written.
  6. Read other authors’ posts and leave constructive comments.

Head on over and join in the fun if you’re feeling frisky!

Happy Reading and Writing!

J. Milburn

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