We Are Here to Help You!

“Come on, Vaki, come on!” yelled one of the soldiers. “They’re coming, head into the tunnels now!” Vaki kissed me on my forehead, and gathered her things. She ran out of the opened door. I went after her.
“Wait, Vaki!” I cried out. “Can you at least tell me where my son is?!”
“I’m sorry, Mori,” she replied hastily. “I can’t say anything!” She rushed into an opened manhole, held up by a burly-looking soldier in a gray tunic and helmet, a rifle slung over his back. Vaki climbed down into the sewers, with the burly man following her. He gave me one more look, then a nod accompanied by a smile, and prepared to close the manhole, but shouting stopped him. We looked to the source of this commotion, and found another squad of soldiers rushing towards the manhole, carrying heavy weapons.
“Dammit, the captain told you to stop sleeping around!” yelled the burly man. “See? Look at that! The bots have got you running with your tails between your legs!”
“They’re here!” shouted one of my neighbors. He pointed at the sky to the west. “They’re here!”
Loud music coming from their aircraft was blaring. It was the Created. They had arrived, with attack ships and transports.
“Stand your ground boys! Slim, set up the cannon! Everyone else, take up defensive positions!”
This Slim fellow, a tall lanky boy, quickly set up this cannon on a tripod. He then aimed it at the aircraft and started shooting. It was terribly loud, with bright red plasma bolts screaming out of the weapon and at the vessels. A few were hit, and were sent crashing to the ground. Then a missile struck the boy, turning him and the cannon into ash. I ran inside my house.
Me, my husband, and my infirm son all huddled together in an interior hallway in our house. The blaster fire and shouting was competing for attention with the aircraft screaming overhead and the explosions erupting all over town, shaking our windows like some earthquake hit. Bright yellow and orange glows splattered through the windows and into our home. We all knew what that meant. Gradually, the screaming and blaster fire died down, and was fully replaced with aircraft and more shouting.
“All civilians, please stay indoors,” said a robotic voice.
We did not listen, and when we emerged from our home, many houses were on fire. A few people leaped from them, flames licking at their clothes which they quickly discarded. They stood in the middle of the afternoon summer sun, half-naked, burns on their bodies. I immediately took an aid kid we kept in the house, on top of the refrigerator, and rushed outside to help whoever I could. Many were crying in pain, many more were crying because their houses were leveled. A few were simply crying.
“Come on, come now Ithiliel…” I said to one of my neighbors. She was an old woman, and had burns on both her arms. Tears flowed from her eyes.
“Oh my God, Mori,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re alright, oh my God, oh and your son’s okay too….” Her voice trembled and was fatigued. I tried not to cry. As I helped Ithiliel, a crowd soon assembled around us. Many had burns, a few were shot, some had cuts or bruises from rubble falling on them, and most had ruptured eardrums since they were bleeding from their ears.
Then came the Created. Most of them were robots, war-droids armed with blaster rifles and with sleek white armor. Many looked alien, although a few were constructed to look Erdellian. A few flesh-and-blood Erdellian soldiers, with white clothing and weapons matching the robots, followed the machines out of their aircraft. They made an ad-hoc stage out of crates and a robot and an Erdellian stood up on them. One of them had a v-amp (vocal amplifier).
The robot spoke first, in a language I did not know. The Erdellian translated for him.
“Do not be afraid, people of Zond!” said the Erdellian. The robot spoke some more, and then the Erdellian translated again. “We are here to help you! You have been liberated by Cortana and the Created! The Erdellian Empire will now cooperate with the Created to bring about a new era of peace!”
“Fuck your peace!” yelled out a man in the crowd. He threw an empty water bottle at the robot, who promptly caught it and tossed it away. “Fuck you, you traitor! You’re working for them or something!”
“Listen friend, we have to work together with the robots,” started the Erdellian on his own, “and-“ The translator was interrupted by a shoe thrown at him, from the man.
“Fuck the robots! Fuck the Created! Fuck Cortana! Fuck you!”
More people clamored and shouted. Many shouted for a doctor. Some shouted the question, “Where do we go?” A few shouted “Why did you do this? Why are you here?” And so on.
I finally shouted, “Where is my son?! Where is my Keleon?!” As I continued shouting, other mothers and fathers began shouting names. “Keleon!” “Esanduil!” “Gor!” “Oroi!” “Ngasasan!”
As my son’s name parted my lips, the robot opened his “mouth” and let out a terrible high-pitched wail. Our ears were in incredible pain, and we stopped our clamoring. The robot ordered us home, and after some time aimlessly speaking amongst ourselves, we did so, unsure of what would happen.
We were no longer in the Erdellian Empire. We were now in the Created Empire.
Category:The Weekly