Morning light seeped through the heavy curtains in bright crimson streaks. Kane woke earlier than usual, a rare thing for him, and lay still, waiting for the alarm to sound, too drained of energy and will to glance at the clock on the shelf.
«Another day of the grind… another march to the gallows», he muttered inwardly, burying himself deeper into the warmth of his blanket.
Work gave him nothing – no joy, no hope for the future. In truth, there was no future in it at all. Still, these days even a job like his counted as a stroke of luck, and people clung to such scraps fiercely, enduring the exploitation, the meager pay, and the company of colleagues who barely knew which way was up.
Still, Kane knew he had to get up, weave his way through the endless stacks of boxes piled with books on the floor, and fire up his laptop. Lately, every spare moment went into scouring the news, searching for any scrap of information about recent events.
It had been about three months since the unthinkable finally happened – the very thing people had long speculated about, written stories on, and argued over in countless fields. For generations, it lingered as little more than a stubborn dream, yet now it was reality: an alien intelligence from another corner of the galaxy had reached out to humanity. The first official contact took place in the Gobi Desert, where the newly formed United Government of Earth styled, in the fashion of the age, as the Alliance, met with them, its delegates drawn from the world’s leading nations. The aliens turned out to be humanoid too, bearing a striking resemblance to humans, though far larger – over two meters tall, broad-shouldered, with luminous golden eyes and skin the shade of ivory. Their hair looked like dreadlocks, and both their hands and feet bore six fingers. They breathed oxygen, just like humans, but their diet was mostly plant-based.
They might have looked friendly enough, but could they really be trusted? Humanity had always feared the unknown, and now, faced with a more advanced and powerful race, many began to wonder if we stood to lose far more than we could ever gain. That, at least, was the prevailing sentiment across forums and chatrooms, where every scrap of news or rumor was seized upon like a swarm of bees drawn to spring blossoms.
Kane, however, who, according to friends and coworkers, suffered from an incurable strain of optimism and always believed in the best: in luck, in sudden windfalls, or in some fantastic breakthrough, was nothing short of delighted to discover that we were not alone in the universe. That «those very aliens» were real. And naturally, what troubled him most were their intentions.
Yet even though considerable time had passed since first contact – an eternity for people who had been expecting sweeping changes any day, nothing of note had really happened. Life continued in its usual steady rhythm, and the Alliance leaders remained silent, offering no official statements. People seemed more reflective now, less restless, and many began to stop putting off things they had long wanted to do but, for one reason or another, never managed before.
