“Miss Nutock.” His facial expression had changed enormously when I sat. I didn’t really have any idea why, but it seemed much more pleasant now, and his displeasure seemed to have eased. He was nearly as large as the Dark… man, had been, but with less obvious musculature. He didn’t wear the same uniform as the others, with a white shirt and what looked like dark slacks behind the desk. His head covering was short and slightly curled, and he had pale skin that darkened in areas that seemed more exposed, possibly due to exposure to solar radiation. Interesting defense mechanism for surface-dwelling creatures.

“Yes… sir?” I asked him and smiled. The expression seemed to startle him but he relaxed, a half-smile emerging on his own face before he schooled it into a neutral expression again. I found him aesthetically pleasing, like Big Mike, and I noticed that he seemed to care enough about his appearance to adorn himself with decoration, a band of what looked like gold on one of the fingers of his left hand. I had noticed minor adornments on a few others, both Big Mike and officer Martin had small golden beads on their hearing organs, but I hadn’t looked closely enough at the others to note much adornment save for what clearly looked like authority symbols they each wore.

The Captain’s symbol was made of gold and was sitting on top of a leather book on his desk, rather than the silver ones I had seen before attached to the shirts of the police officers.

“Thank you for coming in. You are not under arrest or anything, but there has been an unusual situation, and I can’t explain it. I was hoping that you can.”

I nodded and noticed a flat panel on his desk that he started swiveling to face me. It seemed to be some sort of instrument monitoring device, specialized for creatures with vision and was surprisingly advanced for human’s purported level of technology. It was clearly not class C but was far too advanced for class E. This was definitely one of those odd variances in technology. The vehicles had definitely been class E, with belching smoke from primitive fuel-burning engines, but I had yet to get much of a look at their other technologies save for a few glances at odd devices in the hospital.

“Please watch this,” he said and tapped a few keys on a mobile panel.

A visual scene appeared. In it was the alley I had been in previously or its close equivalent. The resolution was amazing, much better than the simple aural repeaters and scent synthesizers my people used when telepresence wasn’t an option. Not as good as telepresence, of course, as there seemed to be no other sense impressions other than visual, and I couldn’t make out textures due to its 2-dimensional nature.

I quickly grasped the device’s inner workings, and it wasn’t as advanced as I had thought. Very clever use of primitive technology, it was powered by electricity and used a grid of thousands of tiny light-emitting crystals to create the display. The signal feeding to it was horribly bloated and inefficient, but it clearly showed their flexible mind’s utility.

The viewpoint was above and behind where I had been found, and I realized there was some sort of recording device that I must have missed. In the picture, a woman walked between the two buildings. She was dressed similarly to me, with the tubelike top concealing her breasts and the same tight jeans I wore, who was clutching a purse identical to mine. Her hair, however, was black, and her skin was very dark.

Three...males, entered after her, one of whom was holding out some kind of a tool. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but one of the men grabbed for her purse. A robbery? Officer Martin had mentioned the possibility, but it was hard to grasp even with the evidence staring me in the face. What could she have that they would want?

She stepped back and lifted her hand with one finger extended. One of the men, without the tool, struck her with his hand… actually struck her in her face! I watched on with horror as the one with the tool grabbed again at her purse, and she deflected his hand.

Then something very strange happened. The tool seemed to explode with light in his hand, and a weird sort of spray erupted from the back of the woman’s head, coating the wall behind her. She fell to the ground, and I realized that I had just watched a man using a tool to end another living creature’s existence.

I couldn’t breathe, and choked, heavy noises were rising from my throat as I watched the recording, the sheer horror keeping me from moving. The men searched her bag, then pulled some papers out of the leather book I had found and dropped them, breaking into a run as they left.

The resolution was not enough to tell, but I thought I could see a slight rise and fall from the woman’s chest. In a moment, that stopped, and then she changed, her skin color lightening and her hair lengthening and changing color, to be replaced by my face and body shape. In a moment the me on the screen sat up and touched the side of her head where the wound occurred.

I couldn’t keep control of myself, and fell off the chair, gasping and choking as my body involuntarily attempted to regurgitate… well… nothing. Nothing but a thin bile hit the floor as I heaved, painfully, joined by the tears from my eyes and nose as I tried to forget what I had just seen.

I could hear the sound of wheels on the Captain’s chair on the tiled floor, and in a moment I felt a hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t made much of a mess on the floor, but he moved my hair away from my face so any further regurgitation efforts wouldn’t foul it, for which I was grateful as I was having trouble controlling myself. I was surprised I didn’t discorporate, but the emotion was ripping through my body, horror and sadness, and even fear.

The captain’s empathy was almost palpable and was somewhat comforting even though my shock only increased at the effect. I was having an enormous amount of trouble breathing, and I tried to calm myself, but only succeeded in triggering a fresh bout of choking sobs. This must be why humans didn’t discorporate in shock at being exposed to that kind of horror. This… emotional catharsis.

It was probably 15 minutes before the Captain’s calming empathy and my own lack of breath finally allowed me to regain control of both my emotions and my body. At some point, he had handed me a wadded-up handful of the soft, spongy material I had found in the Men’s room, and I used it to clean the tears and mucus from my face. I felt disgusting and violated.

“Why would…” I choked, “Why would you show me that?” I asked as I finally managed to stagger into the chair, which was much needed. Ironically, my knees hurt from dropping and kneeling on the floor, and focusing on that minor pain, which had been so overwhelming at first, helped me to avoid thinking about what I had just witnessed. I still had waves of sorrow and anguish rolling through my body, but there was an even weirder emotion there that I didn’t understand. It made me want to find those men, to hurt them for hurting the woman, and it was utterly alien. What would hurting them accomplish? They were clearly insane and needed to be imprisoned or recycled to avoid such behavior in the future, but something inside me wanted them to be punished.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. I didn’t realize it would hurt you like that,” he said, sitting on the corner of the table. He was still close, but no longer had his hand on my shoulder.

I was a little outraged, “How could it not? Those men… that tool, he murdered her! How could any thinking being handle…” and I started to almost sob again, covering my face with my hands and trying to use the napkins to absorb the tears. I was barely hanging on to control of myself, but just staring into my hands and the Captain’s warm empathy helped.

He sighed. “I understand. I think. You know it is real because you were there. I shouldn’t have shown you the first part of the video, but I’m not used to people reacting like that. But it is the second part that is the real issue.”

My eyes hurt, my nose hurt, and rubbing them with the tissue to remove the moisture build-up was becoming slightly painful. My stomach hurt too, not just from getting wrenched by the regurgitation effort, but also from hunger, I think. I was actually somewhat embarrassed when it chose to audibly make its discomfort known.

“If you like, I will get someone in here with something to eat and drink. But I really need to know what happened to the body. To you. I had the CSI check the video, and they said it was freaky but didn’t show any signs of tampering… so I really need to know what the hell I just saw.”

I tried to recap, even though I didn’t want to remember the video. “There was a woman, and 3 men assaulted her, and then one of them damaged her fatally,” I explained since he was clearly having as much trouble grasping the event as I was. I sent a wave of empathy and shared sorrow out to show him I understood his distress, and he almost fell off of his desk as he tried to back away.

“What the hell was that?” he asked, shock evident. “And I didn’t mean the murder, I meant what happened afterward.” he seemed to be getting control of himself.

“I was trying to comfort you? And I don’t know, I respawned and then sat up. Should I have remained lying down? The EMTs seemed a little worried by my sitting up.”

He sighed. “I mean… never mind. What the hell did you mean you respawned?”

I shook my head a little, this was common… oh, no it was not common knowledge here. “I respawned. Umm… that may be hard to explain, but she was in the process of discorporation. I discorporated, but because I was the last of my species, the injunction against respawning due to death trauma was no longer in effect. So the system allowed me to respawn here, as a human, instead. I couldn’t respawn on my home, because it was destroyed, along with all of my former race.”

He was looking worried and irritated. “So you are saying you died, and then you respawned.” he was fiddling with something on his desk. I checked and discovered it was a sort of primitive communication device that linked to a network in the building, using modulated electrical signals to carry a speaker’s reception to other locations, as well as having a magnetic recording system.

I nodded, “Yes, but I respawned here. The system needed a still-living body for me, but one from which the soul had departed, of an appropriate mass to match my attributes. In the future, simple biomass should be sufficient, but because the game wasn’t here yet, it had to work with a living mass of approximately the same species.”

He nodded slowly and was giving off the impression of humoring me. As if he didn’t believe a word I was saying but didn’t want to let me know. “So you are an alien?” he asked.

I shook my head, “Of course not. How could I breathe your atmosphere or look anything like you if I were alien? I am as human as you are. I have a soul, just like you do, but because I respawned instead of being reborn, I still remember my previous life. But I cannot respawn again until I gain more ranks, if I die again now I will simply discorporate.”

He sighed. “So, basically you are saying that this system turned a girl that had just gotten part of her brain blown out into a body so your soul could move in? And that originally you were from an alien world, so why are you here? To conquer our planet and make us all slaves?”

I scoffed, “As if.” the expression came rather naturally. “This world has great resources, but nothing worth trading, poor technology, and your people are so violent and irresponsible I have no idea if any other species would even want to induct them into a hive mind as drones. Humans have a lot going for them, but to be fair, when my species discovered yours, we kind of… wrote you off.”

He was shaking his head and muttering something about ‘pretty’ and ‘crazy’ under his breath. “I am not crazy,” I said, quietly, and he turned to face me. “I am just sort of lost. And… shocked that I didn’t discorporate when I watched your video.”

He grew a bit more interested at that. “You keep saying that word, discorporate. What’s that mean?”

I thought for a moment. “When a shock becomes too unbearable, when your mind starts to collapse, you release your soul’s hold on your body, and your body stops living. I… started crying instead. I guess humans don’t have that reflex to discorporate, because the one time I thought about it, my mind rebelled against the idea. Humans are each very unique, so I suppose individual survival is more important?”

He looked thoughtful, “So you are saying that if you experience something traumatic, too stressful, or too emotional, you just… give up? Die?”

I didn’t like the direction the conversation was turning. “Sort of, but I am feeling better now, I seem to have forgotten some of the stress I was feeling while watching that video. Humans seem to have a mechanism for forgetting such painful trauma.”

He nodded, “So basically you are still an alien. How would I know that you are telling the truth?”

I shook my head rapidly, “No, I am human. Just like you. Would it help if every time I greet another human I said Hello fellow humans?”

He snorted at that and I realized his reactions were amusement. Good. I tried to think of what a human might think an alien would look like, especially if it were disguised as a human. I wanted to be offended that he thought I might be mistaken, but under the same circumstances, without the system, I imagine that the F’lok’nyran would treat the statement that a simple male that suddenly started talking about being from another world with similar skepticism.

I tried to chuckle along with him, “Would removing my head and then stating I was obviously human help? Or should I make strange noises or turn my skin green? I cannot do that, so I guess I have to find some other way to convince you.”

He nodded, “You are weird and crazy but you are not weirdly crazy. That’s why I haven’t already escorted you to a holding cell to wait for the men in white coats. But is there anything? Do you have superpowers or something?”

I shook my head. Superpowers implied abilities that were unnatural for humans. Obviously, they weren’t part of the game and didn’t have access to its abilities, but their own special ability and sheer attributes were staggering.

“No superpowers. If anything, humans are the ones with superpowers. Your gravity and atmosphere and temperature tolerances are insane and would have squashed a F’lok’nyran flat and burned and melted them. You can survive trauma that virtually no other species could tolerate and then just keep going and forget about it. Your flexible minds are hard to appreciate because I have the gift now too, and I can adapt just as quickly to things I could never have even conceived before. Both your males and females are fully sapient and aware, although I haven’t been exposed to any of the immature ones yet, and the idea of throwing… I haven’t even seen it done yet, let alone been able to use that power.”

“Throwing?” he asked, and then took a pen from his desk, lightly raised one hand to send it flying in an arc, and caught it neatly in the other hand. “Like that?”

“YES! I exclaimed excitedly, “That is exactly it! I have never seen anything like that before. it's like your minds instantly and instinctively calculate a perfect parabolic arc, and can adapt for things like atmospheric density, and gravity drop, and even calculate them while the object is in motion! That is absolutely amazing, it's like an entire room full of computers are packed into your heads to calculate ballistic trajectories without even thinking about it!”

I wanted to try, and he lightly tossed me the pen. I caught it! It was like I just knew the exact trajectory, and could calculate its landing point in my outstretched hand effortlessly. I fumbled a little, but there it was, a flying projectile, safely ensconced in the palm of my hand when before it had been subject to all of the whims of flight and falling.

“That was absolutely incredible.” I beamed at him, and for some reason, he gulped uncomfortably. “So many new things. Maybe I could tolerate the tragedy and disaster if I could constantly learn such new and amazing things.”

He nodded, “Well if you are human now I would strongly suggest keeping your unusual origins under wraps. People are likely to think you are insane otherwise, you know?”

He was still humoring me, so I sighed. “Of course, but I have no idea where to go from here. I assumed that my obvious intelligence and talents would immediately move me into a leadership position so I could help our race prepare for an invasion, but so far No one even seems willing to show me the way, or even understand what I am asking. Would it be too much for me to ask you to take me to your leader?”

He let out a weird noise, I guess it was a laugh, but it was like all the air suddenly wooshed out of him. He coughed a couple of times, and then grinned at me, “Did you really just ask me to take you to my leader?” he said. It was weird because I could see tears in his eyes, but he was projecting amusement, not shock or horror or despair.

I looked at him skeptically, “Yes? Is that an unusual request?”

He shook his head, still grinning, and said, “it's sort of a trope. Whenever aliens come to earth, the first thing they always say is take me to your leader. it's just funny you said it.”

I nodded, “You have been approached by other species before? That’s very strange. Usually, the first thing translated would be what goods do you have to trade? Or possibly we would like to share information on local threats and mercantile possibilities.”

I sent a query to The Game of War, hoping it would not be too expensive, and received an immediate response.

There has been no contact with Earth. No trade relations exist. All references to Earth were previously restricted to the F’lok’nyran database, and under data quarantine until recently declassified. As a native of the planet in question, all costs associated with this query have been waived.

Thank the depths I thought. I couldn’t afford debt right now.

“You haven’t had any contact with other races.”

He nodded, “Nope, aliens are strictly science fiction. Well, the occasional crazies that claim to have been abducted by aliens and subjected to anal probes, and crop circles.”

I was totally confused. “Anal probes? They placed objects inside of your waste disposal system? Why would anyone possibly wish to do that?”

He chuckled a little, “You would be surprised. At least once a month we get a call…” and he abruptly changed the subject, “So you say you are from another alien world but you are totally human, right? You eat, sleep, breathe, and can have babies? And you don’t have any superpowers or anything?”

I shook my head, “No powers that humans wouldn’t ordinarily have, except for some common talents. I breathe, but I haven’t eaten yet or slept, but I assume it's identical. I cannot produce offspring, however.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Oh? And why is that?”

I sighed. “Because my physical age is only 17 cycl...years. By tradition and local ordnance, I am ineligible. I do not wish to be subject to punishment or to subject others to punishment for attempting to fertilize me. And Nurse Nancy said I am something called Virgo Intacta, which implies further ineligibility.”

I shrugged, “I have also learned that Human women have to carry their embryos inside of them as parasites for an unspecified amount of time. I have things I wish to accomplish, and that could inconvenience me before I can find a male willing to raise them, or even a male whose genetic material I have been able to determine is ideal for reproductive purposes.”

He sat there, his mouth slightly open, for several seconds. “Right. You are a juvenile. Where do you live?”

“Chicago,” I announced confidently.

He nodded, “Right, I mean where in Chicago. Where do you sleep?”

I shrugged, “I have no idea. I have not slept yet. I also don’t know where the local dispensaries are for food and self-hygiene, or the waste disposal receptacles, although I have learned, somewhat humiliatingly, that clothing is mandatory and that the men’s room is not an appropriate self-hygiene facility for a female.”

He sighed. “Okay then. I am going to mark this video as a hoax. it's a creepy as shit hoax, but you don’t seem to have had anything to do with it unless you are the most staggeringly competent actress on the face of the earth. I am not going to put you in holding, but I will have an officer send you to a women's and children’s shelter for the night. I want you to think real hard about where your family is, or where you come from, so we can get you back there.”

He shrugged, “If you don’t want to go back, there are some programs, although you are a bit too old to go into the system, and with the way you look and act, it would be throwing a fish into a shark tank.”

I nodded. After several false starts, I finally understood the weird computer thing that the monitor connected with. It was a very simple immobile drone, without any real security except for a surface-level identification algorithm and ridiculous 64-bit encryption system, and the programs running on it… Let’s just say that the technology in the machine itself blew way past our standard calculation machines in speed and power, as well as possessing an absolutely insane amount of data storage, but that nearly every bit of it was crammed with insanely bloated software that had virtually no function.

It was linked into a network that ran through the building, to several other machines just like it, and then into a junction box of some sort. From there I lost track, as I was well outside of any telepresence systems and apparently they didn’t have such enchantments on their network.

Obviously, much of it was devoted to visual processing, but with this kind of hardware and the right trajectory prediction algorithms enhanced by human’s innate grasp of ballistics, one drone could take out an entire army of invaders before it ran out of ammunition. And if something somehow got close, my innate agility would allow me to blow through enemy drones like a Mawper through a cloud of blood eels. I understood, now, why the system had said they had incredible potential. Their potential was terrifying.

In a few moments, he had signaled another officer, I think a female but I was not sure, and told her to find me a women’s shelter. As we left his office, I noticed a little sign that said: “Captain Dershowitz” sitting on his desk. I realized I was still holding on to his pen. It was made primarily of refined metal, so I used telepresence to return it instantly to the small holder on his desk as we exited. I did hear a “What the f…” as the officer closed the door behind me, but I had no idea what that was about.