27

Oliver Bowen

October 21, 2030. Washington, D.C.

They loaded Five into a semi. It was marked as a Killer Donuts truck, leading Oliver to wonder if the Killer Donuts Corporation was a government front. They made surprisingly good donuts, if that was the case.

As two men rolled down the back door of the semi, Oliver resisted the temptation to wave. Enough people thought his relationship with Five was sick and weird—no need to throw fuel on that fire. Oliver imagined Five would miss tormenting him.

Having you as company is about as fulfilling to me as the company of a goldfish would be to you.

Although Five had given no indication he was joking, Oliver couldn’t help laughing. He turned away, headed into the shade of the oak trees on the side lawn of the compound, where he could speak aloud in peace.

“You’d really prefer to be in a camp? I could argue that you’re more valuable as a liaison.”

I prefer to be with my kind.

“All right.” Oliver wondered what sort of reception Five would get. If he’d been telling Kai the truth back when they first met, Five had violated a basic rule set down by the Luyten leadership: no communication with the enemy.

Luyten don’t shun their own. Even those who’ve made terrible mistakes.

“But in the end, it allowed you to be of some use to your kind.”

To facilitate our surrender. Yes, how useful.

Oliver realized the direction of their conversation provided an opportunity to broach the subject many people were curious about. “Of course, there are lots of Luyten talking now.” Oliver watched the truck pull away. “Can I ask why that is?”

You already know the answer.

“I suspect the answer. Given that Luyten motives are way beyond my comprehension, how could I possibly know I’m right, unless you tell me?”

In this case, our motives should be utterly transparent, even to you. We’re engaging in a campaign to “humanize” ourselves, because your kind are less likely to carry out genocide on a species that seems somewhat human.

“You’re scaring the shit out of people.”

That can’t be helped. By communicating we become less alien. By sending a consistent message of kindness and contrition, we become less threatening.

Oliver had to admit it made sense. In human wars, countries went to great lengths to dehumanize the enemy so their soldiers would feel less guilty killing them.

“Can I make a suggestion? Tell your kind to take on names, and introduce themselves when they contact someone. Names humanize.”

Five didn’t respond. Oliver frowned. “Five?”

The truck must have carried Five outside his telepathic range. He was gone.

His hands in his pockets, feeling somewhat melancholy, Oliver headed back inside. If not for what happened with Vanessa, Oliver could honestly have said he would miss Five.