The Alien

The following passage is taken from the notebook of Officer Miles Bradbury: 17th April 2013.

We were called out to investigate a forest fire. Of course, when we got there, we saw government agents who merely told us to secure a perimeter, and gave us fake details to spout to anybody who tried to come close. My close colleague Jake and I were a little annoyed by this. We passed the tedious hours chatting. It didn’t take long for the Government agents to come up during conversation.

“So, what do you think they’re doing back there?” I asked.

“Weapons testing, I’ll bet.”

“I doubt that it’s weapons testing. It would count for the smoke, but why do that in the middle of a forest? Why not a moor or out at sea? Somewhere safe?”

“You’re right. Weapons testing doesn’t really make sense. I might go take a look.”

“If they’ll let you.”

My friend was silent after that. I wish I had known what was going on inside his head. I might have tried to stop him if I had.

The next day, he wasn’t at his post, so I stood alone for the entire morning shift. During my lunch break, he approached me. He was different.

It wasn’t just the fact that his clothes and face were dirty and covered in some kind of slime. It wasn’t just how exhausted he was, or even that he was shaking. It was the look in his eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it. The only way I could describe it was that there was a madness in his eyes. A frantic desperation to do something constantly at war with an intense, debilitating fear of actually doing it.

Between crazed gasps of breath, he uttered the words “It’s an Alien!”

I’d have laughed if it weren’t for his appearance. This was no laughing matter.

“What,” I started, “You mean like little grey men?”

He shook his head.

“No. Not like that. These were something bigger. Not size, but it was just greater than us. More powerful. We are ants compared to it. Humanity is nothing. We’re nothing!”

He started to laugh, and cry, and shake. I backed away uneasily. The next moments, I’ll never forget. He grabbed my porcelain mug from the table, poured the contents onto the floor, shattered it against the table, and rammed the jagged remains into his own throat. I rushed forward and tried to stop him but it was too late. He was bleeding profusely. He gripped hold of my hand so tight that it hurt and didn’t let go until he had finished choking to death on his own blood. I didn’t move for the next twenty minutes, even then the others found us.

I was under suspicion for his death. Of course I was. When the government types saw the slime on his clothes, they were even more eager to convict me. I was determined to get to the bottom of this. I didn’t think I could sleep again until I had. They took me to a spare room and kept a guard posted, with order to not let me so much as move. Of course, he told me in confidence that I didn't believe I was guilty. I desperately took advantage of this. When enough time had passed that he began to grow complacent, I got up and beat him unconscious. Or I killed him. I’m not sure. I didn’t even stop to think about it long enough to feel any kind of guilt or remorse. I had to get to the smoke no matter what.

After several minutes of trekking, I started to feel vulnerable, and not just from the possibility of getting caught by my fellow police officers, or the government. I felt as if a million eyes were staring at me with killing intent. I felt like every molecule of air around me was a predator so dangerous that preyed on humans. My dead colleague’s words came back to me. I literally felt like an ant staring up at a human’s boot.

The feeling only grew stronger the closer I got to the smoke. My chest was aching, my spine was tingling. My forehead was burning. The symptoms of my anxiety were so severe, I felt like I was walking through a desert. I had to breathe slowly and deeply to calm myself down, but it still wasn’t enough. Every step I took was a great effort. In through the nose, out through the mouth, one foot in front of the other...

I finally made it to the clearing, and I saw what was causing the smoke.

When you see UFOs on TV, they look like discs, or triangles, or flashing lights. All things you’ve seen before. What was in front of me, I knew without a doubt was a UFO even though I’d never seen anything like it. It was a craft such as one that Humanity would never be capable of making. I had little knowledge of science, but I knew that this craft was capable of travelling past the speed of light. Just looking at it, I realized that everything we think we know about Physics is wrong. I couldn’t go any further, I turned back into the forest and sat down. That’s when I wrote this. I wanted to uncover why my friend died, but now...

If any of you government people find this notebook, keep it to yourselves. I don’t want anyone else reading this. I don’t want the truth getting out. Humanity is not ready for this, and they never will be. After I’ve written this, and once I’ve gathered my courage, I’m going to look inside the UFO.

The following passage is taken from the notes of Dr. Osman: 9th July 2013

Miles Bradbury isn’t too strange a case. He constantly harps on about seeing an alien. It’s when he goes in detail that things start to get interesting. Of course, most of the time he just babbles and stammers for his entire interview, but when he talks about the alien, he describes it was being beautiful, perfect, gigantic but not in size, and other such praises.

He says that it is of a higher form of life than Humanity, and could destroy us all with little effort if required. In fact, during a few interviews he stops here and merely starts screaming “Humanity is nothing!” over and over at the top of his lungs until we sedate him.

He shows no signs of brain damage or physical trauma. No history of episodes or disorders. This was all caused by some kind of psychological trauma the night before he was brought in after killing two fellow Officers.

This patient has very little chance of recovery. It’s troubling. There’s seemingly no cause for this condition. I literally cannot think of a single reason on this earth that a man could snap this violently.