The Farm

The boy had never been on a farm before. He didn't see the point in looking at animals wandering and lounging around. There was nothing to see that all the nature channels on the vid-box couldn't show, and watching them required a lot less effort.

The boy knew that this time it would be different. This time it was unmissable. The news was that everyone would come rushing from all corners of the globe to see the farm's latest addition.

Ticket prices had been exorbitant, of course. The land owners clearly realized what they had, and intended to make their fortune off it - with the government taking a tidy cut of the profit, of course. The boy's family could only afford one ticket, and as luck would have it their only child was celebrating his birthday. It was worth the price. It was worth the four hour wait in the hot summer sun, standing in a line who knew how long. It was worth the itch of sticky clothing. Worth the pushing and shoving of others that could not keep their excitement or impatience under control. Nobody in the line complained.

The other animals on the farm made no effort to draw the expectant crowd to their enclosures and fields. Maybe it was the heat that made them lazy, but maybe they knew nothing they could try would win an onlooker's attention. Maybe they knew that nobody was here for them.

Everyone was here for it. The alien. An actual, genuine being from another world.

The first hour of queuing had been the worst. The line was so long it went over the hill, so the farm could not be seen. Those returning to their vehicles parked on this side of the hill gave nothing away, only smiles and nods and "I met the alien" shirts. How the boy wanted one of those shirts!

At last, he reached the top of the hill and could look down upon the farm. The boy's legs ached already, and given how slow the line was moving it would be past midday before he would be next to go in. Even so, even at this distance, any doubt a visitor to the farm may have harbored at the validity of the land-owner's claims were squashed.

There was a plaque fitted into the ground at the top of the hill, showing images of the surrounding land and buildings. It showed the descent of the alien's craft, where it had crashed. Not that a plaque was needed to illustrate such things; it was quite obvious something otherworldly had occurred here judging by the great rent in the nearby field, the smoking crater, and the mangled silver tube resting at the end of it. A cordon could be seen keeping visitors away from the craft - clearly that was not yet safe to go near. Lines of arrows on the plaque showed direction of impact, how the life-pod had ejected beforehand and where it had come down. The path of the strange creature that had escaped its metal doom was also drawn on the plaque, a path that had led it to its current incarceration, a building still shielded from view by the large farmhouse.

Another hour passed by. The line did not get any shorter. Of that, the boy was sure. For every family that went in to see the alien another family joined the end of the line, on the other side of the hill. The only thing that was different was that with every tick of the clock there were fewer families standing between the boy and his destination.

Over the next hour, the angle between the boy and the farmhouse altered little by little. A sliver of corner of the alien's prison came into view. Another few shuffling steps forward exposed a bit more. It was little more than an old barn, a large shed in which was stored animal feed and farming tools or vehicles. The boy remembered the plaque, recalled the alien's dotting tracks that had taken it into the barn where it had found the farmer and his family hiding from it. Farmers were allowed to keep weapons on their property, and it was lucky this farmer had followed the law. Who knew what may have happened otherwise. Would the alien have overpowered the family and laid eggs in their faces?

There was another plaque here, this one detailing what the alien had been wearing upon its arrival. Some kind of all-in-one suit, full of tubes and cables. Its helmet had a dark visor. The boy swallowed. Was it really in there? He felt something would burst free from his body he was so excited. He had always known there were aliens out there, beyond the atmosphere of the world and within the vast reaches of space. Now he was going to meet one! His mind swam at the very thought of it. How big was it? Did lengths of metal keep it secure, or was it thick, transparent sheets of plastic or glass? The thrill of what contained it was almost as strong as the desire to see the thing itself. What color was it? How were its limbs apportioned, if it had them at all? What did it eat? Questions mobbed the brain.

Time slipped by with a lamentable lack of alacrity. The boy tried to count how many families were in front of him in the queue. A hundred? He couldn't separate them easily. Maybe he should take a few cheeky steps forward. The wide barn's door was pulling him closer, the prize within so tantalizing that he wanted to break free of his position and risk expulsion for a quicker look. He could, if he wanted. The line was so full of families the government's guards, burly individuals brought in to help control the flow of visitors, couldn't possibly track all of them. Besides, they were so big and he was so small. It would be easy . . .

No! Don't spoil the moment. The boy's mind told him to calm down. His parents would be horrified if he ruined this chance. No, he must savor it. Every moment of this day was precious, and he would remember it forever. What did mother always say? The best things come to those that wait. Yes. Wait. He would treasure the experience all the more because of his patience and control.

As if to cement his resolve, another child was less tolerant of the situation and slipped free from the parent's grasp. The child snaked along the line in defiance of the parent's calling, weaving expertly in and out between other families, and made it to the door.

He came out a second later a clear four foot off the ground, lifted easily in the meaty grip of one of the guards. The boy watched the bawling child as he was returned to his embarrassed parent, and both were escorted away. At least their wait was over. The boy did not want to be that child when they got home.

That could have been me.

The crowd moved inexorably closer. The barn door was so close now that if he reached out as far as he could without leaving his place he might be able to touch it. Then he remembered the two figures being marched away and kept himself respectably still.

Only three families were in front of him now. It was nearly his turn. They were going in in threes and fours, depending on the size of the family. The boy was not sad that his family had not been able to afford to come with him. He liked the idea that this was all his, and he didn't have to share it with anyone.

Then he was waved forward by the guard at the desk, directed into the gloom beyond the barn door. He showed his ticket when asked and hesitantly stepped in, hardly daring to move, or breathe, or make a sound in case the alien had somehow broken free and was waiting for its next victim.

It took only seconds for his sight to adjust from the summer glare to the dark interior, but to the boy it seemed to be hours. Thin columns of metal stretched from the floor slowly appeared out of the blackness. The boy guessed this lack of light was because the alien was sensitive to the light of their sun, which was not unexpected. It was a bright sun, and would damage his own eyes if he looked at it directly. He covered his nose and mouth to guard against the disgusting animal musk clogging the air. The gesture didn't help much. Whatever technology the alien had brought with it to keep it safe from potentially harmful rays had surely been stripped from it, and the government had clearly considered it not a threat to those that would pay handsomely to come and look at it.

There was a noise from the back of the cage, the shifting of something sliding upon the reeds that had been laid down to cover the floor. The darkness was still too deep toward the rear of the building, and he couldn't quite see what was there. The boy stepped closer, crossing the red line that had been drawn around the cage, and squinted. Oh, yes, there was something . . .

Maybe it was because the alien had suddenly become very brave, or that this time only a single visitor had come to view it and it felt superior somehow, or it had simply got fed up with being gawked at, but there was an explosion of sound and movement as the strange being hurled itself toward the boy.

Heart hammering, eyes wide, the boy lurched backward, tripping over his own feet, and went down hard. It really was the ugliest thing he had ever seen. The thing was evidently naked but for the spread of dirt across its repulsive body, pale skin smeared with grey and brown and red. How much of that was its natural coloring? The body's propulsion was assisted by four slender tentacles, each possessing curious angles and joints and terminating in a bunch of five other, much smaller, tentacles. The fine hairs coating these extremities coalesced thickly atop a fifth protuberance, an irregular ball that possessed features as intriguing as they were repellent.

A pair of milky orbs, centered with blue and black, were stamped one to a side of a short, sloped, and blunt proboscis. Below this protuberance was a hole that opened and closed, a gaping pit that spewed foulness it offended the boy's senses of sound and smell.

The boy read the third plaque, situated across the top of the cage. It read:

Species: Homo sapiens. Origin: Sol 3, also known as Earth.

1800 words approx