The Resident Alien: Chapter 1

So, this whole NaNoWriMo thing did not exactly work out for me as I had hoped this year.  I did not get anywhere near 50,000 words.  No excuses justify this—I simply wasn't committed to the writing schedule that I should have been keeping.  Boo on me; I'll try again next year.


However, my first attempt at NaNoWriMo has reminded me how much I enjoy creative writing.  In fact, I want to continue to explore the storyline I've developed for The Resident Alien.  So, here's what I'm going to do: post one chapter per month here on my blog.  This seems like a reasonable goal.  It will keep me active and accountable, and provide me with some much-needed feedback so that I can improve as a writer.  Accordingly, here is the first chapter of The Resident Alien.

Chapter 1

Eleanora’s eyes snapped open.  She sat straight up in bed, disoriented.  That’s right, she thought.  I’m still here.  She sighed and settled back under the coarse army blanket.  But, it was difficult to fall back asleep knowing that the morning roll call would happen in only an hour.

Eleanora rolled onto her side, staring out from her small cell.  A detention facility, they called it, as though she was merely being detained momentarily, and soon would be released to continue merrily along her way.  No, she thought, they cannot fool me.  This is a prison, and I am their prisoner.

Her cellmate snorted suddenly as she, too, was jolted from her slumber.  “Hey, what time is it?” she whispered to Eleanora from the other side of the cell, which was so tiny that there was only two feet between their faces.

“05:00, Grace.  Go back to sleep.”

“Maybe today will be the day, Nora…” Grace trailed off, her hopeful words undermined by her furrowed brow as she fell back asleep.

Maybe today will be the day that you get justice, Eleanora mused, ever amazed by her cellmate’s optimism.  Grace had been held at the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility even longer than she, Eleanora, had been; yet, after seven Earth months of isolation from her friends and family on Earth, seven months of being treated like a common criminal, Grace still awoke each day with the sincere belief that today would be her day in court.

Naïve, Eleanora thought, grimacing as a mattress spring poked at her side.  Yet, as she settled back into an uneasy sleep, she could not help but to say a small prayer of thanksgiving that God had placed her in the same cell as someone whose spirit could not be broken.

*****

An hour later, the roll call alarm sounded, and the detention facility began to buzz with activity.  Buzzing was a good description, as the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility was not unlike a giant beehive, with so many small compartments adding up to a vast space station that orbited Pluto.  ICRP stood for the Interplanetary Commission on Refugee Protection.  The ICRP had been founded to protect refugees fleeing from different planets, seeking a safe haven on a new planet that would tolerate the characteristics that made them unique without persecution.

For Earth had become a place that was dominated by the persecution of others.  The three hundred years since the beginning of the second millennium had brought war, environmental disasters, and the breakdown of international law.  As society broke down, humans searched for someone, something to blame.

At first, the consensus was that the governments were to blame, that the problem was the division of the planet into so many countries with different laws, structures, wealth, and military strength.  So, state government was abolished, replaced by the International Federation.  But, the problems persisted.  Indeed, the environmental integrity of Earth deteriorated even further.  After wildfires destroyed the capitol city in the former Geneva, the people of Earth began to quarrel about the source of the problem.  Some argued it was merely human nature to destroy things.  Others pointed fingers at the selfishness of their ancestors, who had ravaged the planet without so much as a thought about preserving the planet for future generations.  Still others suspected that rebels were sabotaging the efforts of the International Federation, which was doomed to fail.

Over time, one theory began to gain prominence over the others.  God.  It was His fault.  He promised Noah that he wouldn’t destroy the Earth again after the flood, but all the rainbows in the world could not contradict the reality that the planet was failing to thrive.  And so, a growing number of people turned against religion.  Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindi, and the faithful members of myriad religions throughout the Earth began to lose faith.  They converted to an anti-religious state of angst, radiating hatred towards God, as well as his followers.  With the enforcement power of the International Federation fallen into a state of disrepair, the world government had no way to stop the hate crimes and persecution that began to gain popularity.

At first, the hatred was directed towards the religious leaders of the churches, temples, mosques and other religious institutions.  Although many of the historical religious buildings of the planet had already been damaged, if not destroyed, by various environmental disasters—including a particularly vicious form of acid rain that caused marble to melt like a popsicle on a summer day—the buildings that remained standing were torn down by members of the REN (Reclaim Earth NOW) movement.  Support for REN surged after flooding decimated much of the northeastern United States, confirming that God was dead, or did not care, or perhaps even enjoyed torturing humans.

With the majority of humans convinced by the environmental disasters that religion was the cause of their problems, those few people who remained faithful to one religion or another became the targets of intense ridicule, hatred, and persecution. The International Federation turned a blind eye toward the violence against the faithful by REN members.  Though, in reality, the International Federation lacked the manpower to stem the flow of hatred that was pouring in from all sides.  By that time, international human rights law had completely dissolved, such that persons who were being persecuted against on account of their religion had nowhere to seek refuge, and no recourse for the crimes committed against them.

That was when the contingency from the Interplanetary Commission on Refugee Protection arrived.  The group was composed of ten aliens from other planets throughout the galaxy, who had come to Earth to address the increasing hostility towards religious humans.  They explained that, while they did not particularly care about the religions of the humans on Earth, they were concerned that the level of hostility would continue to escalate until the human race destroyed itself.  For, while many aspects of human society had broken down, one of the only industries that had continued to make progress was the weapons development.  With each successive generation, humans had developed more and more heinous ways to destroy themselves and others.  The alien races that composed the ICRP had taken a vote, and decided that, in order to preserve the valuable resources in the Earth's solar system, it would be beneficial to offer asylum to the religious humans who were being persecuted, in the hopes that it would stem the bloodshed and allow Earth to get back on track.

The ICRP convened a meeting with the International Federation, and laid down the terms of the agreement.  The planet of Nomos, one of the member planets of the ICRP, was willing to accept applications for asylum from humans who were experiencing persecution on account of their religion.  Nomos was willing to make regular trips to Earth to collect asylum applicants, who would be transferred to a space station orbiting Pluto for screening.  Once the adjudication process was complete, the applicant would either be granted asylum and transferred to Nomos, or their claim would be denied, and they would be returned to the planet Earth.

The ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility was the space station provided by Nomos to adjudicate asylum claims.  It was located sufficiently far from Earth as a precaution, so that, even if the state of affairs deteriorated to the point that humans detonated all of their collective weaponry simultaneously, the explosion and resultant radiation would not affect the operation of the space station.  And so, Nomos set up the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility in orbit around Pluto, and weekly hypershuttles were sent back and forth between Earth and Pluto, a journey that took only a week.  Many joked that it was ironic that Pluto, the rejected planet, would play host to a facility for rejected humans.  Most were glad to see the religious humans leave, believing that, at last, the planet Earth had a fighting chance to restore itself to its former glory.

For fourteen months, the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility had been in operation, adjudicating the asylum claims of human refugees.  Much to the surprise of many humans, there were a great number of religious asylum applicants whose claims were rejected by the Nomosian judges.  Those who were returned to Earth faced even more discrimination upon their arrival, causing many potential refugees to be fearful of applying for asylum, lest they be rejected and only make things worse for themselves.  Yet, the persecution had grown so harsh, many refugees agreed that it was difficult to imagine things being any worse, and applied readily.

The ICRP was woefully underprepared for the sheer numbers of asylum seekers that they would need to process.  A backlog developed almost immediately, and supplemental holding pods were added to the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility to hold the growing throngs of applicants who were awaiting their turn before a Nomosian judge.  What should have been a breezy process of taking a hypershuttle out to the facility, waiting a few days for the court date, and then continuing on to the planet of Nomos, had instead become a logistical nightmare.  The bureaucratic mess incited controversy among the ICRP member planets, and Nomos demanded additional funding and support from the ICRP to compensate it for its troubles.

Despite the fact that the ICRP had, ostensibly, sent its contingency to Earth to help the human race to rebound from the bring of self-destruction, and to protect religious refugees from further persecution, the day-to-day operation of the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility lacked greatly in basic consideration for human comforts.  Essentially, the asylum applicants were treated as prisoners while aboard the space station.  This was due to the high number of fraudulent claims being submitted by humans who were not religious (or, had not been persecuted), but merely wanted to explore a new planet.  In light of the difficulty in weeding out the true claims from the false ones, the Nomosians grew wary of all applicants, treating them with suspicion, rather than giving their claims the benefit of the doubt.  In addition, the increased need for detailed asylum hearings meant that only a few cases per day could be prosecuted by each judge, adding to the backlog of cases.  Within only a few months, the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility had been transformed from a safe-haven for religious refugees, to a prison that was only marginally more tolerable than life on Earth.

And, so it was that Eleanora had ended up in a holding pod on a space station orbiting Pluto for the better part of five months, placing her faith not only in God, but also into the tenuous protocols of the Interplanetary Commission on Refugee Protection.  No one was sure exactly how many refugees were waiting for their turn in court, but the fact that the backlog had resulted in a wait time of six to nine months--or longer, for those who appealed their cases to the higher court—was telling.  The shuttle that ran back and forth between Earth and the ICRP Plutonian Detention Facility had room for a thousand refugees, and was running weekly trips.

All Eleanora knew for sure was that she had been here five Earth months, and she was exhausted.  The hard-and-fast routine of detention had quickly wore upon her spirit, the feeling of purpose and hope that had blossomed when she first learned of the possibility of refuge on Nomos.  If I had known it was going to be like this, she wondered, would I have come?

The roll call alarm sounded again, bringing her attention to the present.  She and Grace scrambled to put on their uniforms, grey jumpsuits that were as bland as the color scheme of the entire facility.  Eleanora did not know much about the Nomosians—after all, not much had been disclosed—but, she knew that they were an extremely practical, prudent, logical, and law-abiding species.  Eleanora figured that the monochrome jumpsuits and environs were the epitome of practicality.  Why waste resources on nicer surroundings?  Because, some color might help us to stave off insanity, Eleanora thought, slipping on her grey shoes with a dreary sigh.  Grace finished dressing, and pulled her curly, blonde hair back into a short, spunky ponytail.

“I wonder what’s for breakfast!” she said with a smile.

Before Eleanora could respond, air hissed as the door to their holding pod slid open, revealing a long balcony.  Eleanora and Grace stepped out, joining the queue of refugees that was forming along the balcony.  Nomosian guards, clad in crisp, high-collared black uniforms, were stationed at either end of the balcony, supervising the refugees as they filed down the stairs to the mess hall.

Eleanora had been surprised when she saw her first Nomosian.  When she though of the inhabitants of other planets, her imagination ran wild with fictional images of little green men.  Yet, overall, the Nomosians were not so different from humans.  She supposed that the similarities should not have come as a surprise, given that the planet of Nomos possessed many similar qualities to the planet Earth: plentiful oxygen and water, carbon-based organisms, in orbit around a star similar in size to the Sun.  The Nomosians were humanoid, though on average taller than humans.  The females averaged six and a half feet; the males, over seven.

Their greatest difference was skin color.  The Nomosians ranged in color from a light lilac to a deep violet, offset by the pink hues that ran along their high cheekbones and the quick of their fingernails.  Their eyes were distinctly almond shaped, and they had many different eye colors, though the most common was a lime green speckled with golden flecks.  They tended to be completely bald; indeed, those few Nomosians who had hair growing on their heads typically shaved it because it was so conspicuous.

Eleanora still had a hard time telling the difference between males and females.  Other than the average difference in height, there were not many visual cues to separate the sexes.  Both males and females were naturally quite slender and narrow of frame; the females lacked pronounced breasts and hips.  It wasn’t until they spoke that Eleanora knew for sure the gender of a Nomosian; as with humans, Nomosian females had higher-pitched voices.

It was just such a high-pitched Nomosian female voice that rang out over the din of the mess hall each morning during breakfast to announce which refugees would, at long last, have their hearings before an ICRP judge.  Eleanora looked up from her breakfast, a watery oatmeal-like gruel, but did not dare to hope for her own name to be called, not when she knew so many refugees who had been at the facility much longer.  Instead, Eleanora said a quick Hail Mary for Grace.  Mother, surely, she has been here long enough, she prayed.

The Nomosian female worked her way through the short list, struggling to pronounce some of the Earth names, because the letter “r” was not a part of her native tongue.  Modern Nomos had only one language, Nomosi, which was a hybrid of many of their historical languages that had died out long ago when their ancestors had decided that it was far more practical for the planet to only have one language.  Such was the way with government as well; the planet of Nomos was smaller than Earth and 85% water, with most of the land mass grouped together into a continent roughly the size of Europe.  Perhaps that was why the Unified Government of Nomos had succeeded, where Earth’s International Federation had failed: too unwieldy, too diverse, too disparate the interests of its people.

Because of her Nomosi accent, Eleanora did not react right away when the female called out, “Gwace DuPont.”  But then, as she dipped her spoon into her gruel, she realized what had been said, and jerked her head up to stare at Grace.

In contrast to the shouts of joy that had rung out from various tables across the mess hall as names had been called, Grace merely closed her eyes, smiled meekly, and whispered, “Thank you, Father.  I knew it.”