Part 2-–Part 3-–Part 4-–Part 5-–Final
The Fermi Paradox is, in a nutshell, an expression of how odd it is that there is no proof of alien life when it seems so likely given the extraordinary size of the universe. With an infinite number of suns, each cradling a ring of planets in their orbit, why haven’t we encountered any sign of someone else out there? No radio signals, no transmissions, no visitors. Existence was too vast for us to be alone, so where was everyone?
I wish we’d never answered that question.
The first man to make contact with alien life was Calvin Myers. Born blind, Calvin was the first patient to receive prosthetic eyes developed by [REDACTED]. A medical miracle. But from the moment his new eyes opened, Calvin started screaming.
He was sedated. It was several hours before he was calm enough to tell doctors what happened.
It turns out that Calvin saw the Devil. Or devils, actually. Demons. Monsters. Slouching, sharp things infesting the corners of the room. He watched warped reflections cross mirrors, shadows ripple, evil faces stare down from the ceiling. Calvin ripped his plastic eyes from their sockets. Darkness was better, he told his doctors.
A full report was made to [REDACTED]. There was never any serious consideration of killing the project. Too much money was invested, market goals were set, and management had expectations. So more devices were produced, distributed, tested. And each time it was the same. The moment the test subject opened their new eyes, they witnessed a world crowded with horrors.
I’ll never forget what I saw when doctors removed my bandages. Eyes staring back at me. They were huge, the size of truck tires, blue and bloodshot, connected directly to my wall. I could tell the eyes noticed me. Worse, they hated me. There were other abominations in the room, as well. A hairy imp with the face of a child. A woman made of spikes and red light. A coiled pile of limbs, each jagged hand opening and closing slowly.
I screamed until my throat was raw; until I passed out. When I awoke, the first thing I did was try to take my eyes out. But the doctors had learned their lesson with Calvin. I was restrained. Monitored. Forced to look. Every day was a parade of nightmares. Shadows melted and ran like a Rorschach across the ceiling, dripping down onto my chest. I couldn’t feel them land but I saw them puddle into violent faces that stared back into my new, designer eyes.
Everything was worse at night. I begged the doctors to keep the lights on. If I had to see monsters, I wanted to at least see them clearly. But my requests were ignored. Terrible figures danced down the hall outside my room. Something crawled above my bed, wheezing, then out the window.
My doctors recorded all of my rants. They medicated me, tested me, poked and prodded and disbelieved. Occasionally, I heard shrieking drift down the hallway when my door was open. I knew I wasn’t the only one in the hospital with new eyes. Others could see.
After nearly a month, they finally released me. I’d lied to them the last week, told them I couldn’t see the creatures anymore. So I was set free, given meds and a journal.
Call us if you observe anything unusual, they told me. They have no idea.
On my bus ride home, I saw three named men with goat heads and swollen bellies, each as tall as a sycamore tree, sprinting down the highway. A rotting whale floated over us, white guts spilling out like spoiled milk. It ate the clouds it passed and when it came into the sunlight, I could see through it, every bone and vein.
I’ve thought about removing my eyes, plucking them from my skull like jelly from the jar. But I’m too afraid. Not just of the pain but also…the creatures will still be out there. Maybe not seeing them but knowing they are watching me would be worse.
You haven’t heard about the eyes. I’m sure of it. [REDACTED] won’t let the word out until they’re ready. I’m breaking every NDA on the planet by posting my story online. But you need to know. Because now that some of us have seen the invisible abominations that exist out in the open, they’ve become bolder. I feel them now at night. They touch my neck gently or slap me. Some take little bites. Testing. Poking. Prodding.
It’s only a matter of time before they make themselves known. I’m not sure what we can do to protect ourselves or if we even can. But knowing is the first part. Believing. So believe me when I tell you, wherever you’re reading this if you think you’re alone, you are not. You never are. You can’t see them but they are very aware of you. Stay steady, don’t rattle. Try not to panic. I’ve spent every night sleeping in my tub with every light on in the house. The fear is crippling, a chain around my throat that keeps me from leaving my house.
But I’m so tired of being afraid. Of being alone. You might not have my eyes but I think you can see them if you look carefully. Focus, use the corner of your vision. Watch your mirrors carefully for movement. Maybe you’ll see something, or maybe something will show itself if it thinks you’re searching.