The aliens arrived on schedule, 42 days after the Announcement. Everyone gathered outside their homes to watch the skies. Most of us had seen the films about alien invasions. The news had been dominated by scientists theorizing what the arrival could look like and how to prepare for it. But they didn’t know for certain. The adults agonized over it. Would it be a military takedown? A peaceful meeting? A global extinction event? A collection and enslavement, like the colonists arriving in Africa all those hundreds of years ago?
Stores were looted. Those with bunkers disappeared from the world. Those without clogged the motorways and airports as they tried to reunite with loved ones before the supposed End. Governments all but shut down in the panic. No one knew what would happen.
Well, that’s not true. I knew. I’d known for months that they were coming. What They wanted. Because I’d been the one to make first contact. By accident. Through my eighth-grade school project.
I guess in my stupid kid brain I’d thought people could handle it. It’d be cool, like in Star Trek. (Mum loved that show). I figured our world leaders would step up to the aliens, stick out their hand, and shake with a smile. Dad always said a handshake could tell you a lot about a person.
I should’ve known adults couldn’t handle it, though. They got worried about all sorts of crazy things, like what colour to paint the kitchen.
I wish when I’d been twisting all those dials—training my LLM in natural language, translating my message into all of Earth’s known languages, including Braille, and typing my greeting to the stars—that I’d taken a second to think about what humans would actually do when confronted with extraterrestrial life.
They were, in fact, not cool about it at all.
It was like the aliens had been waiting for my message. The reply was almost instantaneous. So quick that I didn’t really believe all our back-and-forth until the Announcement three months later, informing the rest of the planet: “Hello, we are a race from another solar system. Our language and people are not compatible with any known languages we have scanned from your planet, but you can call us the Psi. We come in peace.”—(I suggested they add that bit)—“We hope to learn your ways and teach you ours. An exchange of information and culture. We look forward to your introduction in 42 Earth days. Thank you for your attention.”
Cue global panic.
I really did try to explain it to everyone. First to my mum, who was frantically making an inventory of the contents of our cupboards. Then to my dad, who decided now was the best time to shut down verbally and stare at the TV like a zombie. I wanted to tell my science teacher, Mr Zimmerman, but when I called the school no one picked up. Somewhere amidst the chaos of those next few hours, it was announced that all schools would be shut down until further notice. All major infrastructure. Total lockdown.
I briefly considered how I might reach the Prime Minister or James Bond’s people, but that was a no-go. The internet had gone from frenzied, to conspiracy-ridden, to entirely collapsed by day ten. Maybe the government turned it off.
You can guess how things spiralled from there.
It was kind of a relief when I stepped out on our overgrown brown lawn (Dad had given up on all lawn care routines) and stared through the clouds like everyone else in awed silence on day 42 (Mum was sobbing, actually).
And behold! A great being, like the bible story with the scary angel, descended from the heavens.
But instead of bringing tidings of great news and joy, the being stared straight at me, moon-skinned and glowing, wearing something like a rainbow jumper and cargo shorts, and said, “Hi! I’m Terix. I’m here for the student exchange program.” He looked like a four-armed kid from LA.
“Exchange—?” Mum began, but before I heard the rest of her question, my surroundings vanished—only to be picked up a few seconds later in an entirely different place. A purple jungle with crawling metal spiders moving through it with clippers and watering cans. Cool. Freaky. In a matter of seconds, dozens of other kids my age appeared, blinking and staring around the jungle.
Then, one of the beings, this one much taller than Terix, emerged from the purple, leafy fronds, bowed in a very Earth-like way, spread out its four arms and said, “Greetings, children. Welcome to Psi ship 2.40X. Over the next few months, we will teach you all about our people. Please do not be frightened.”
One of the kids, I recognized him from school (Oliver, was it?) asked in a trembling voice over the murmuring of the other kids, “What about our parents?”
The being smiled, showing big, capped teeth. They must have studied human communications to the nth degree. I had suggested Wikipedia.
“You are free to communicate with your parents whenever you like. Your Psi counterpart will live in your place, and you in theirs, during this transition period.”
“Transition period?” I piped up.
“Ah!” The being looked genuinely pleased, blinking double eyelids at me. “Rebekah Jones! Our first contact. This is a student exchange program, designed to ingratiate our two cultures peacefully.”
“Someone should tell the military that,” another kid snorted, a tall boy with freckles.
The being turned its smile to him. “We have neutralized all threats on your planet.”
That, I didn’t think the adults would like very much. But then again, adults were hard to get through to. I’d told the aliens as much when they’d asked me how to make the best first impression.
This is my fault, I realized. I’d given them the idea! The only way to get through to the Earth is through the kids.
Parents think we don’t listen, but we do. We do.
“It was thanks to you,” the Psi said, and it was staring straight at me.
My jaw dropped. Can you read my thoughts? I asked in my head.
“I can,” it confirmed, then turned to the other kids. “Now, who would like to see the rest of the ship?”
Curiosity often outweighs fear, and almost all the students’ hands went up—including mine. Mum and Dad would be okay, once they got used to the idea. It was like having a foreign exchange student, but with aliens instead of some kid from Sweden.
Adults were always a bit slow when it came to accepting new things, but they’d come around.