Extraterrestrial Refugees

“You said you guys can cure cancer?” Oscar asked. He was sitting on the foot of the bed beside Gemma in her hotel room. He was starving after the summit and decided to get some takeout. He figured Gemma would be hungry, too, and the restaurant had ample vegan options, so he grabbed her a box as well. His kindness was well-received and Gemma happily invited him in so they could enjoy the late meal together.

“Yes. But prevention is the more important part of it all,” Gemma replied. “Once a carcinogen has been identified, then its use is immediately prohibited. It’s foolery to continue tolerating them or taking chances on them. When the risk is known, they’re gone.”

“Okay, but the sun causes cancer—what are you going to do about that, hmm? Block out the sun?”

Gemma held up a finger. “That’s where curing it comes in.” She stopped to take a bite of her noodles.

“So now you’re just going to leave me hanging?” Oscar probed.

Gemma held her hand over her mouth. “My mouth is full,” she muttered. She swallowed loudly then sipped some water. She gestured at the plastic container. “It’s killing me—literally—because I am so overly aware of all the carcinogens I’m putting into my body just by eating this meal.” She smoothed the blanket with her hand. “And by sleeping in this bed!”

“What? The bed? Why?” Oscar said, lifting a bite of his own takeout to his mouth. “The detergent?” he said whilst chewing. Gemma nodded.

“Yes.”

“Yeah, great. I never think of those sorts of things. So, tell me: how are you going to cure me of cancer when I get it?” His own father had died of pancreatic cancer; it was no foreign enemy to him. He was all-too familiar with the suffering it caused.

“You ready?” Gemma said, lifting her eyebrows. “This is going to blow your mind—nanobots.” She made a shooting-star-like explosion with her hands as she said the word, then let out a giddy giggle.

“Nanobots? Like the teeny-tiny microscopic robots from a science fiction novel?”

Gemma nodded while slurping up another mouthful of noodles.

“How exactly does that work?”

“First, they’re programmed to destroy any malignant cells and tissue, then they are injected into your body. They target the cancer cells, neutralize them, and then go to the bladder where they leave your body through your urine.”

Oscar looked at her, wide-eyed. “I mean, that actually seems…possible?”

“The best part about it is, there’s no such thing as an inoperable tumor. They can get anywhere. And unlike radiation and chemo, they target only the cancer cells, so they don’t even make you sick. There are no side effects. Although, people say they sting a bit coming out.”

“I guess I can see that.”

Gemma chuckled. “Only you can’t, because they’re literally microscopic.”

“How in the world are those things even made?”

“By other, tiny robots.”

“I hope you guys brought them with you.”

“Oh, we did.” Gemma finished up her noodles and closed up the small, white box they came in. She aimed at the trash bin against the wall beside the desk and tossed the box. It tumbled into the can. “Hey!”

Oscar laughed. “Nice shot.” He also finished his food and closed up the box. Gemma nudged his leg with her foot.

“Your turn,” she said. Oscar grinned and shook his head.

“Nope.” He stood up and dropped the box into the bin.

“Why not?” Gemma pouted.

“Because—” Oscar walked back over to the bed and threw himself onto it, laying his clasped hands across his abdomen, “—I know I’m a terrible shot and it wouldn’t have made it and I would’ve ended up splattering oily sauce all over this nice hotel room and it would’ve been super embarrassing.”

Gemma laughed. “Fair enough.” She looked around the room at the cream-colored walls and the maroon carpets. The ivory curtains that hung over the window draped all the way down to the floor. “It is a nice room,” she commented. Although small compared to American standards, it was significantly larger than her room on the Fortuna. She had space to sprawl out. Space to breathe. …Space to invite a friend to come in and have dinner.

Oscar closed his eyes and let out a big yawn. “Okay, I’m too tired to move—I’m stealing your bed. You’re going to have to go sleep in my room.”

Gemma rolled her eyes and laughed sarcastically before yawning an intense yawn herself. “I’m not going anywhere,” she scoffed.

“Fine. But I have to warn you…I snore,” Oscar said. They laughed sleepily, then Oscar groaned and rolled out of the bed. “Okay, okay…I’m going.” He dragged his feet toward the door. He undid the locks then turned around and looked at Gemma, still sitting on the foot of the bed. “Good night, Gemma,” he said with a smile. “You really did phenomenal today. I’m seriously so impressed with how well you handle pressure.” He paused. “You’re like a diamond. Get it? Because pressure doesn’t make you crack—it makes you…shinier.”

Gemma giggled. “I think you’re tired, Oscar.”

“Yep. I am. Okay, I’m out. No more stupid diamond metaphors.”

“Hey, it was actually a pretty good one.”

“Nonetheless—I’m too tired to have a clear thought anymore. Adieu.”

“Good night, Oscar,” Gemma said, waving her hand at him. She smiled at the door for a few seconds before getting up to redo the locks. She could hear Oscar on the other side of the door wishing her two bodyguards a good night—a thoughtful thing to do. She turned away from the door and quickly got her tired self ready for bed. Early the next morning, she would begin her long journey back to New Mexico.

* * *

Jeff Killian could not believe how the money was pouring in. It consumed him. He spent every waking hour—which were many, for he did not sleep much anymore these days—trying to figure out more ways he could milk this giant, silver cow. He had thought that the big shots were already rolling in—celebrities and former presidents—but as he laid his phone on his splintery dining table, it became clear it was only the beginning.

His rosy-cheeked wife, Jade, looked at him from across the table. A pizza box with a single piece of pizza left in it lay between them. Takeout and dining out had increased dramatically over the past few days. His wife seemed to be thoroughly enjoying her break from the kitchen. “Who was it this time?” she asked. Jeff looked at her. She was tough and hardworking. She was not afraid of getting her hands dirty. Her hair had turned gray prematurely due to the stresses of just trying to make ends meet. But now she didn’t have to work as hard or worry quite as much. She was resting more, and it had done her a world of good. Looking at her now, Jeff could’ve sworn she looked ten years older. There was no dirt under her fingernails and the worry lines on her forehead were fading. So often she had voiced wanting to get her hair dyed, but every time Jeff gave her the money to do so, it found another purpose. Jeff IV needed new shoes. The car needed an oil change. The house was out of groceries and toilet paper.

Jeff smiled at his wife, snatched up the last slice of pizza and bit the tip off. “How about you drive into the city tomorrow and get your hair dyed and get a pedicure. Take the girls. Make a day trip out of it. Grab some lunch.”

“That sounds fun,” Darla, the Killians’ youngest daughter commented as she approached the dining table in the small kitchen. She lifted the lid to the pizza box and whined that it was gone.

“I wasn’t going to let it go to waste,” Jeff said.

“Not that you needed it,” Jade said with a loving chuckle. “I think you’ve gained twenty pounds over these past few days.”

“Do you think things are going to—I don’t know—are the aliens going to be here forever?” Darla asked, dropping down into one of the rickety seats at the table.

“Do you want them to be?” Jeff said. He pointed at the empty pizza box. “Remember before you answered—those aliens paid for your dinner.”

“Yeah, and I appreciate that, but…” Darla hesitated.

“What’s up, honey?” Jade said, resting her chin in her hand. Darla let out a sigh.

“It’s just that Mia was supposed to come over tomorrow but now her mom won’t let her because ‘there are too many freaks running around there.’” Darla put her elbows on the table and rubbed her forehead. “I feel like she considers me one of them.”

“Well, shoot—ask her if she wants to go to the city tomorrow with you and mom. And Sadie,” Jeff said. Darla’s face lit up.

“Wait, really? I’m sure she would love to.”

Jeff nodded. “Serious as a heart attack. And it’s all on me.”

Darla squeaked excitedly and left the table, pulling out her phone and typing away on it as she vanished to her bedroom.

“Honey, I just don’t think I have time to do that,” Jade said. “I’ve got a lot of chores to do. I’ve been being lazy these past few days and things are really starting to pile up.”

Jeff flicked his hand through the air. “Don’t worry about it. You deserve a day off.”

“Alright, fine. But you still haven’t told me who you were talking to on the phone,” Jade said. A wide smile appeared on Jeff’s face.

“Oh, just the President of the United States of America.”

Jade crinkled up her face and frowned. “Ew. I don’t like that guy.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to pretend otherwise for at least one day because he just booked a private tour for himself and some other people with big, fancy titles.” Jeff was still smiling. He folded his arms, pleased with himself. “And they’re paying the big dollars.”