A Dystopian Glimpse into the Future

Location: Asylum Colony 44-J

Aliens: Human

“Lieutenant Nonsta, you have a visitor,” the nurse says quietly as she steps into the shared common room. All the loonies are watching displays or talking to themselves. Each of them a separate world within themselves, swirling around each other.

“I’m not a lieutenant anymore,” I say quietly. Since I’m the only one here who isn’t crazy, I’ve had command over most things. I have a nice little table by the window where I sit and draw. Mostly figure drawings, since I don’t have much else to use for reference. However, my mind wanders and I end up drawing the same thing. That thing.

“Hey,” Westover says sheepishly as he approaches.

“Come to gloat?” I say, looking down at my drawing. I see it staring back at me. I quickly scribble it out before wiping the display clear. If I don’t scribble it first, it just lurks in the screen. I’ve had to learn its patterns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, sitting across from me.

“You gave me whatever you had,” I say, as if he doesn’t know it already.

“I was very sick,” he says into his open hands. “I’m sorry for anything I said or did. I wasn’t myself.”

“Save it for the shrinks,” I say, turning in my chair so I’m facing the window.

“They say I can take you out on the grounds for some fresh air. Would that be okay?” he says. I can see him squirming, looking over his shoulder. I cut my eyes at him and a little smile touches my lips. He’s still got it. He’s scared shitless they’re gonna see right through him. He doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to be.

“You know what?” I say, standing up. “That would be *lovely*.” Once we’re outside on the fake grass I look up at the fake sky. Fresh air my ass. We’re in a soap bubble on the side of an asteroid. All those other kooks don’t mind it, but my mind is still sharp, so it feels like torture.

“What has it shown you?” Westover asks, holding my upper arm and drawing me close beside him as we walk.

“What did it show you?” I ask. We pass an orderly so we both smile wide and give him a nod.

“I don’t even want to say it,” he says. His voice is shaking. He looks like he might crack up at any moment. “I just need to know it was real,” he whispers, almost a plea.

“It’s real alright,” I say. “It showed me the future. I think.” I honestly can’t put it into words. I wish desperately that I was born a Rivan so I could just force the image onto his mind. It might have been a familiar, if not dreaded, sight. “Planarians took over The Hegemony. Long story short, humans were all herded up and put on some rock in the outer reaches.” I felt Westover’s grip tighten on my arm. It grew tighter and tighter as I talked. “They cracked down on every other race, too. Inhibitor chips and biological weapons. But the humans they just couldn’t bear to look at anymore.”

“That’s exactly what I saw,” he says. We duck behind a tree as Westover starts losing it. I’m shushing him. He’s not listening. He’s got a fistful of hair on either side of his head, tears streaming down his cheeks. I grab him up and hold him close to my chest. He sobs, but it’s muffled. My shirt gets wet with tears and spit. “We can’t stop it,” he says. “What are we gonna do?” he cries. The longer I hold him, the quicker his sobs start turning into chuckles. He balls up the back of my shirt in his hands and he’s laughing so hard an orderly eyes us suspiciously.

“We get our shit together,” I say through gritted teeth. “Take a breath,” I tell him, and as if I’m reminding him he was capable, he took in a giant gasp of air.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand, snorting up snot. “I hate to say it, but I’m relieved,” he says. “I really thought I was crazy. But if we’re seeing the same thing-” I’d be lying if I said I didn’t also feel some kind of relief. Everyone on the asylum colony saw things all day long. But where we differed is my visions were *real*.

“I say we eliminate the threat before it has a chance to get anywhere near what we’ve seen,” I tell him.

“Just the two of us? We really must be crazy,” he says, scoffing.

“Not hardly. This thing that’s talking to us. We need to figure out how to talk back. It and others like it may be the key to preventing all of this from happening,” I say. I start to rush, trying to blurt out as much as I can. The tone for dinner is beeping out on the lawn and orderlies are rounding up the whackos. He wraps me up in a big hug.

“I’ll figure out how to get you out of here,” he says resolutely. “Maybe they’ll discharge you into my care.”

“Whatever works,” I say. “We’ll stop it from happening. Or die trying.”