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i don't think the world changed that much ever since the aliens arrived. we still go to work, some of us perhaps more cautious about what's over our heads. i mean, a lot of flights have had to be rerouted. it's a pain in the neck for the pilots. yeah, it's difficult being a pilot or the flight control operator. those saucers appear out of nowhere all the time.

i wonder if we know how many of them are in the world. are they the same ones? or do the old ones leave and new ones arrive? it's been a few months, i'm sure somebody must have figured it out.

well, maybe not. we still don't know where they came from or what they want. there's still some panic, though most of it is coming from doomers and internet denizens. they believe that the aliens are secretly brainwashing the earth population and taking control over our governments. i shift in my seat. i mean, i can't prove that they are wrong. perhaps it is true, after all, i wouldn't know it if the aliens did brainwash me. but, i mean, why even care? the things are running as normal, it's not like they are making us their slaves. i mean, most of us are already slaves to our employers and the governments aren't that great either. i don't think aliens are gonna make it any worse.

i finally drive out of the forest and into a clearing. there is a small town here. this must be where the gas station owner lives. i don't stop and quickly pass it by. sometimes, when i'm on one of these long drives or when i'm in bed and can't sleep i wonder whether the aliens are talking with us. maybe they are trying their best, but their means of communication are so different from ours that we simply can't hear each other. we both are just standing in front of the other and staring. and our mouths are open, shouting all kinds of questions but they don't even see our mouths. or maybe they do, but we can't see theirs. standing in front of each other and shouting all kinds of incoherent thoughts and sentences. afraid of each other. reminds me of twitter.

well, not just twitter, but it's the first thing that comes into mind. even if we could hear each other, would we be able to decipher their language? i'm sure we would. we humans have done a lot of things and cracking codes is our favourite pastime. not the most favourite, but still somewhere up there. i'd say number 23. no, twenty-two.

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that day, when i was taking out the trash and when my neighbour talked to me for the first time, that day i went out. and the playground was empty and the streets were barren. maybe some stranger in the distance. a saucer hovering over our apartment complex, buzzing, as they do. i can't say that i wasn't afraid. i was. i was scared, because we all were. but somebody had to take out the trash every once in a while.

and as i was walking i began thinking. what would happen if that UFO came to me and took me? not what would happen to me, that part wasn't particularly interesting. well, it was, but i had no way of knowing what would actually happen.

instead i thought about my mum. now, she is quite anxious when it comes to my safety. she's been worrying about me for my entire life, but not the helicopter kind. she loves me and she shows me that love by worrying about me. and if i were to disappear that day, while taking out the trash, what would happen to her? i would be gone for a minute, and she'd worry but think that i was still taking out the trash. then two minutes will pass, five. it's probably then when she would start worrying, when three to five minutes have passed. she'd call me (i had taken a phone with me that day) and i would probably not answer, if i were in a flying saucer.

i wonder if she'd cry. i have seen my mum cry only a few times throughout my life. i'm not sure she would. at first, at least. but she would panic. she'd put on her jacket and her shoes and go out to look for me. but i would be gone. she'd shout my name probably. maybe she would call the police. it's probably at that moment that she would break down and cry and she would blame herself for letting me go and she would blame herself. wish it was her instead of me. would she hit herself? hurt herself?

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i stop the car. i am crying and the tears blur my vision. it is silly, crying over something that has never happened. but it isn't the imaginary situation that i'm crying over, is it? it is late. i take out my phone and go to whatsapp (my mum's messenger of choice) and text my mum:

"i love you."

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