Dear Planet Earth,
We drove all through the night, heading inÂ a single direction to find our missing companions. It was a long shot, even by global mole men invasion standards.
We started having real conversations about what could have happened. Sure, mole people could have kidnapped them, but why? Why leave us? Why use ninja-like skills to take everything but myÂ broken walkie talkie, but keep us alive? Did our friends leave on their own? It seemed like we were all getting along just hunky dory, all things considered. Yeah, the army guysÂ made all the major decisions, but no one seemed to complain about it.
The word â€œtyrannyâ€Â came up. Along with â€œabandoned,â€ â€œsuicide,â€ â€œspy.â€ â€œRapture.â€
I was squashed in the back seat next toÂ Maria. Our bare arms touched each other several times during the bumpy trek, and I felt like I was back in middle school, wondering whether the contact bothered or excited her. Portly Private Linares crushed me on the other side. He didnâ€™t smell nearly as good.
Then we saw it â€” 90 to 100 miles away on the horizon. The rising sun illuminated its silhouette, instilling an otherworldliness that it already had enough of on its own. Our first Californian drill.
Join the resistance at Beneath Average