I’ve never told anybody this, but I’m about to leave this earthly plane, so
I guess I’ll finally get it off my chest. I was abducted by aliens. At least
that’s what I’ve always assumed they were. They didn’t exactly tell me where
they were from. They didn’t look human, and they spoke to each other in a
language that I didn’t recognize as being from Earth. Though, to be fair,
since I’m not a language guy, it could be some dialect I’m not familiar
with. And maybe they were mutants. Or maybe they were humans, and I just
couldn’t see them well amidst all the drugs they had me on, and the poor
lighting. So here’s how it began. I was sitting in my living room, watching
something mindless and stupid on the television, when a bright light came in
through the windows. At first, I thought it was just headlights, but then I
saw that the lights were surrounding me. I started getting really nervous.
My neighbor told me the government tracks your internet usage, but I didn’t
understand. Computers were still so new back then in the 90s, I didn’t know
what I was doing. Did I say something treasonous? Did I accidentally admit
to committing a crime? The lights died down, and I thought I was safe, but
then I blinked, and I was on my back in a strange room. Mysterious figures
were hovering over me, speaking that language I was telling you about. When
they noticed I was awake, though, they switched to Russian so I could
understand them. They told me to relax, and that they weren’t going to hurt
me. I don’t know if that was a lie, because they did draw some blood, and it
didn’t feel very good. They didn’t probe me, though, if that’s what you’re
thinking. They just left the room, and I never saw them again. I couldn’t be
sure how long I was in there, but they continued to subject me to tests.
Flashing lights, loud music, soft music, the sounds of people shooting at
each other. Best I could tell, it was a psychological experiment to see how
I reacted to these things. I think I passed.
I went to sleep in my little alien cell one night—though it may not have
been nighttime, since there weren’t any windows, and I think I was in
space—and when I woke up, I was back on the couch. The television was
playing white noise, and it was a week later. My boss fired me for never
showing up, even claiming that he broke into my house to see if something
was wrong with me. I can’t say for certain that I was abducted by aliens,
but something had to have happened. I lost time, and people lost time with
me. It’s hard to ignore that evidence. I chose not to tell anyone about
this. I apologized to my boss, and though he still couldn’t give me my job
back, he promised not to do anything to risk my chances of getting another.
I was back to being employed within the month, and fortunately, nothing like
this ever happened to me again. What would have been the point of me making
such wild accusations when I didn’t have any proof? Yeah, I wasn’t at home
at the moment that my old boss tried to find me, but perhaps I was just at
the store. I could have been lying about the whole thing, and no one could
have backed up my story. So I just stayed quiet, and stayed the course. I
kept my head down at work, and didn’t try to figure out the truth. Like I
said, they never came for me again, and I haven’t suffered any inexplicable
health complications since. To be sure, I’m not dying as a healthy and
lively young man, but my eating and drinking habits suggest that this was
inevitable regardless. I’m only telling my story now because it’s where my
mind has gone in these final moments. It’s the only interesting thing that I
ever experienced.
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