By Standing a War

A Journal on the Invasion of '57

By Standing a War

8, January 2057

Back in for the spring semester! I wonder what this class is going to be like. I assume this journal stuff is going to be a part of it since she wants us to “get in the habit of free writing.” She won’t look into them though, she just wants us to write in them every week or so in class. Oh well, I guess that’s what I can expect taking Creative Writing. Sure as hell beats Reading Drama though. I hate reading plays, especially that Shakespeare crap. I say keep it in the past. I like writing though. Anyway, I’m so glad it’s going to be spring soon, because winter is pulling no punches. They’re still talking about another storm coming in from Wisconsin. I hate this Michigan weather. Never got any of this down in Arizona. But like I said, spring is coming.

20, January 2057

Derek was talking about some panic in the Korean Republic. They say some scientists found some signals from deep space that might be signs of life out there. It’s all over the news programs. But I don’t think so, it’s probably something to do with some star exploding. Anyway, there’s this girl who sits on the far side of the room who keeps giving me signals she wants to talk. She doesn’t look too bad, maybe I’ll make that approach. Can’t hurt right? This is college, Baker State University at that. Last year we were ranked one the biggest party schools in the Alliance, that’s gotta mean something. So it’s settled then, I’ll go to her after class. I think her name is Jenna.

16, February 2057

Professor Ramirez told us that around this time people used to celebrate a “Valentine’s day,” a time when everyone would show off the love and affection they had for their significant others. That’s what we need now. Something to make us bring out the love and affection the world has to offer. Nowadays it’s all riots and hard protests ever since they found those ships out by Neptune. How are we supposed to show the aliens that we are civilized if people are acting like barbarians? But how can you blame them? People are scared, confused. Who knows what is going to happen when they get here. I hope to god they are friendly. I’m going to take Jenna out tonight, somewhere nice. For Valentine’s day...

9, March 2057

People are out rioting again so classes were cancelled and we have to stay in our dorms. The world is chaos now. We’re under Marshall Law now but the people don’t care. They are scared, they think that the world is about to end. They are looting downtown, buying out all the stores, even robbing people in their homes. We’ve only got a couple of weeks before the aliens’ projected arrival. And the loss of communication with the colony on Mars isn’t exactly easing people’s feelings. Jenna is getting anxious about all this, there’s only so much she can take. She says we should go home, quit the semester, and come back on the next. I don’t know about that, seems like that’s the fear talking. But with all these tensions, all these wild campaigns, who doesn’t feel a bit scared? Who doesn’t, at least in the back of their heads, have some notion that these so called “visitors” are actually settlers? That they are imperials, sent to conquer this world and its people. I just keep hoping I’m wrong about that.

30, March 2057

For some odd reason the city went black yesterday. I think the power fields had some mess ups during all the commotion. There goes the monorails I guess. I could see the stars so clearly last night. They were the only things lighting up the place, not even any airships were up there. It all gave me a sense of wonder, like my professor used to say. She said “Space is wonderful, beautiful even. Full of life and wonder, so vast and wild.” There was silence, magnificence. Reminded me of how beautiful this planet is. No wonder the aliens are coming here. I hope the others looked up and saw what I saw, people need some beauty and wonder in their lives right about now.

31, March 2057

The power is still out and I have absolutely nothing to do. My grandfather used to tell me of a time when they didn’t use internet like we do now. Back when they still used what he called “flip phones.” They didn’t even have touch capabilities. He told me about the times when people still used television sets, rather than projectors and holograms. I like his stories of the old stuff. I wonder how he’s doing. I’m so bored right now. It seems too dangerous to even go outside, but I can’t say here. My grandfather told me that a person should never be locked up without stimulation. That interaction is necessary for healthiness, otherwise we’d go insane. Maybe I’ll go to Jenna’s place and see how she’s doing.

3, April 2057

I guess the initial attacks weren’t as intense as everyone thought they’d be. We weren’t hit by the first waves thank god. We got the news as power came back in parts of the city that they were attacking. Jenna’s projector started working and we could watch the reports on what was happening. Turns out the blackout was near global and the work of the Imperials. Jenna started crying as the news showed broadcasts of the hit cities, she was so heartbroken. I held her so tight. I started crying too, to be honest. I couldn’t believe my eyes when we switched to the broadcast of Shanghai. Their ships were huge, massive. I thought something like that couldn’t even be made to fly because it’d be too heavy. The weapons they were using, they had these lasers that made anything they aimed at burst into fire almost immediately. The thing shot a F54 right out of the sky. We are now at war.

7, April 2057

Some people from the University of Toledo came by earlier saying the city had been hit. Said they got out just in time and were looking for supplies, same as us. The stores have been all bought out and no restock is coming. The only food we have is what little have from before. Noodles, rice, and mac. The water is still running, but only for god knows how much longer. I think we should get out of here, somewhere more secure. Jenna thinks we should stay but she doesn’t realize we don’t have much of a choice since our supplies are running so low. I’ll talk to her about it.

28, April 2057

We were so fortunate, so lucky. We were blessed with the amazing achievements and feats we accomplished. Even when we fought ourselves, mankind has always been able to find some peace in even the darkest of places, but I fear no one will find peace now. Our home, our planet, even our lives are being taken from us. When the military came to move us to a camp, I wasn’t expecting such dread. Things are different now. We don’t eat what we used to. We don’t talk and laugh like we used to. Hell, we don’t even do what we used to. It’s all about sticking to your own and keeping your guard up whenever some big guy decides he wants your ration for the day. I’d break his other leg if I could have, but the soldiers handled it. Jenna is doing rather fine. The death and dreariness doesn’t hit her as hard. She says thinks she’s pregnant, we’ll go by the medical bay tomorrow, the curfew’s active for now.

19 May, 2057

Two weeks ago the semester would’ve ended and I would’ve been saying goodbye to all my college friends as I went home for the summer, but the Imperials crushed that plot. I hate it down here in this bunker. I want to see the sun, I want a breath of fresh air, even some space would help. It stinks in here, there’s too many people, and the rations are crap. Jenna’s pregnant but she’s stuck in this disgusting place the army wants to call “an adequate provisional shelter,” which can be easily translated to “place that isn’t too nice but just good and big enough to shove 100 people into.” How am I supposed to take care of Jenna in here? I wonder how she’s doing, what she’s really thinking besides what she’s saying to me. How’s she going to get past the baby’s toll on her body, how she’s going to get the extra nutrients she needs. Hell, only she and god knows if she even wants the baby. I’ll stand by her though, always.

8 July, 2057

The war lingers onwards, hard and intense. I haven’t written in this thing in so long. It’s getting pretty lengthy. Maybe when this is all over somebody will find this journal and publish it like a book or something. “The Journal of Fletcher Adams,” I guess that works. Jenna’s belly is getting bigger. I caught her crying yesterday after our conversation about baby names. I can tell she has mixed feelings for this baby. But I can also tell she really wants it. She can’t wait to hold it, to watch its eyes stare by back at her. She can’t wait to hear its laughs. Not even can I wait for it. Our baby, filled with life. I’ve fallen for Jenna, through and in spite of everything. I’m marrying that girl.

31 August, 2057

Before, the meaning of racism was the belief that some races of people were superior to others through ideology, physical appearance and other factors. In the Alliance, racism wasn’t too big a deal. Some racists were on edge about the Mexican amalgamates, others towards the Canadian ones. Today I have found new placement for the word racism, not geared towards a specific form of human being, but towards a specific race itself. I am a racist against the Imperial race. I hate them. They have truly ruined mankind. They are ruthless, they are foul, and they have wrecked the lives of everyone on this entire planet. The imperials have taken everything from me. They took my home, my family, and my friends. Our cities lay in barren wastelands because of them. I hate them all for taking the life of my love. My unborn will never get to see the light of day due to the horror they’ve induced upon planet Earth. I’m joining the resistance. I want to avenge Jenna’s legacy through the deaths of the Imperials. I want to see them flee this planet in fear of mankind. I long for the day of which I will watch their ships burn, their troops scatter from the battlefield. I will join the effort against this struggle. The struggle of which affects our people across the globe. I love you Jenna. I will fight for you. I will never forget your laugh. I will never forget how your smile lit my heart when we first met.

science fiction
Sean Stewart
Sean Stewart
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