They are the machines.
“Kalxor, just do what they say,” I mutter, tears falling from my eyes.
And then they bring out his family. They torture him with the sight of those beautiful aliens who appear more docile than any human I have ever met.
I have to admit, the sight of them surprises me, as well. It spurs something inside me, makes my robotic heart swell with empathy and compassion. For a quick second, I dream of what could be. I dream of connecting as a family, together, as one.
I dream of marriage.
Of kids.
Of growing old together. Goals I’m not technically supposed to achieve. But I need them now, need them like water in the driest desert.
I look up at Kalxor, tears salty on my lips, snot running down my nose. I know how I look. Broken and abused. Not exactly a ten. But the way he looks at me is beautiful. He loves me and will always love me throughout time.
I’m lucky to have loved him.
This time, there are no apologies. There are no goodbyes. There is only the present.
Eye to eye. Heart to heart. Soul to soul.
I feel the soldier’s barrel press against the back of my head. They can kill us, but they can’t take away what we had.
No one can.
I hear a voice echo from each of their radio units. “Smoke him.”
“Light ‘em the fuck up!” one yells.
“No!” I scream.
Unable to look, I shut my eyes and grit my teeth, saliva dripping from my mouth onto the concrete floor. Dry-heaving, I cry, and I let it all out. I never knew I could feel so much.
There are many sounds that follow. The clicking of metal. The bell-like ping of bullets entering cartridges. Those hollow boots, rushing against the icy floor, running to catch and kill my alien.
His hands are in the air. He’s not a threat to them. They could just let us go, let us love freely, but that’s not what they’re programmed to do.
And then I hear gunshots. I hear screams. I try not to listen, but I hear Kalxor’s emotional bellow.
“Ava!”
“Kalxor!”
I open my eyes, and everyone stops. The officer in charge drops his magazine and racks the slide to clear a jam in the rifle, but the spent case does not clear.
Oddly enough, the other soldiers are having the same problem.
Kalxor rises, unscathed. When he stands, he’s a tall, hunk of meat, a fucking tank of rage.
The line of officers inches back. “What the...”
“Yes,” I whisper, smile cutting against my face.
“Fall back,” the officer says.
Kalxor keeps walking, forcing them on their heels. His chest rises and falls, growing bigger with each inhale.
One soldier looks at another, eyes narrow and worried. “What’s happening?” he asks. “Why won’t our weapons work?”