Silence and Curiosity
The country flew by them like the wind. When not bemused by it, Anar watched the cars drive passed them, focusing on the human occupants. He sneered at the quaint likeness of the earth. For its youth, he hated it, and for its ignorance. However, some part of him admired its beauty.
As much as Isabelle, Anar enjoyed the silence between them on their ride into Roswell. He could scarcely accept the fact that a human had aided him. Moreover, he disliked the fact that he had not done to Isabelle what he had done to Brittany. Why he had allowed a human to work with him, he did not know. He did not wish to acknowledge that he needed her.
To Anar's displeasure, Isabelle forced him to break the silence.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Isabelle paused, her hand reaching halfway toward the retract button for the car's roof. "What?" she said. "I was just going to put the top down."
Anar glared at her. "Well, while you're at it, why don't you just put a bumper sticker on the back that reads 'Alien Onboard'!" he exclaimed sarcastically.
Grinning, Isabelle said, "I know where to get one of those!"
Anar sighed. "Of course you do," he mumbled. He watched her hand move toward the radio. "No music!" he ordered.
"Fuck you," Isabelle said, narrowing her eyes at Anar. "It's my car! If I want to listen to music, then I'm going to listen to music."
Anar put his hand against the radio. "Not anymore," he said.
As Anar's hand moved away, Isabelle attempted to turn her radio on but couldn't. "What the hell, man!" she exclaimed. "What'd you do?"
"We are not listening to music," he stated firmly. "We can eat silence for all I care."
"Why," Isabelle demanded, "do you talk so much like us if you're an alien?"
Sighing, Anar answered, "I had the unfortunate assignment to acquaint myself with your people's many slanguages and colloquialisms."
Isabelle glared obliviously at Anar. "Forget it," she said, focusing back on the road. "I didn't wanna know anyway."
Frowning, Anar turned his attention back to the passing country. A slight hiss came up from his throat as his detest for the earth and its occupants continued to grow.
"Why are you so quiet?" Isabelle asked.
Growling, Anar slowly turned his head to face Isabelle. "I don't enjoy socializing," he said through his teeth.
"Oh, get stuffed," Isabelle blurted. "I don't enjoy sarcastic, little jerk-offs like you, but for some reason, I'm not kicking your ass into the street like I should be."
Anar's eyes shot at Isabelle in outrage. "Our enemies wish to wipe your race from existence," he said sharply, "simply for the expansion of their resources, so that they may one day wipe my race from existence. And as much as it disgusts me to have to admit this, I need your help. My ship crashed before I could complete the transformation process. Therefore, I am stuck like this!" He gestured toward his face.
"Okay, already!" she said. "Jeez, why do you have to be so grumpy?" She sighed. "It is kinda funny, though, you crashing here. Why did you crash anyway?"
Grimacing, Anar answered quietly. "I was attacked by the enemy." He slumped down in his seat. "Now I know how my predecessors felt when they crashed here. Except…they got caught." Sighing, he gazed over at Isabelle, and their eyes met. "Let's hope that won't be the case with me."
The only thing that Isabelle and Anar seemed to have in common was their reluctance to talk to each other. Growing tired of the extraterrestrial's sarcastic and annoying remarks, Isabelle had hoped some music could replace it, but was forced to settle for silence.
When they reached the town, Anar hid from view by ducking below the windows. As they got to Isabelle's house, he wrapped a blanket around him and they sneaked inside. Collapsing into a couple of chairs in the living room, they both sighed and relaxed quietly.
Anar closed his eyes to collect his thoughts.
"So what's it like up there?" Isabelle asked.
Opening his eyes, Anar suppressed the urge to growl at Isabelle for disturbing his peace. Instead, his thoughts recalled his time spent in space, something he usually tried to forget. He sighed lightly, bemused. "Quiet," he said simply, "and empty. Television shows like Star Trek are good, but it's not at all like that. It's lonely." He paused, then very quietly added, "It's like being dead."
Brows furrowed, Isabelle considered Anar's answer. She had expected a little more enthusiasm from him, or at least a sarcastic remark. Grimacing, she asked, "So why are all of you so interested in our planet?"
Anar sighed. He considered telling her, but dismissed the idea at once. His thoughts dwelled on things he'd rather not recall. "There are just some things you're better off not knowing," he said.
Isabelle decided not to press him on it, her wildly running curiosity aside. She instead focused on what he'd said about space.
Humans spend so much time and effort on trying to explore the "wonders" and "beauties" of space, not even thinking about the loneliness of being trapped in a tightly-wrapped vessel of energy and metals in the endless and silent void of space. A vacuum full of dangers and mysteries, the darkness sometimes horrifying, and its beauties so few yet so incredible that they actually make the risks worth it. But Anar's people didn't take the risks for the beauties, but rather were seen by others as one of the dangers.
Isabelle, however, found the idea of space intriguing. She had gotten use to loneliness and found it somewhat enticing. For it was only when she was alone that she could do what she really wanted to. Proud of her unique and intricate nature, she did things differently from most people. When others were around, they destroyed her plans and ruined her fun. She longed for such solidarity.
Disconcerting thoughts lingered within Anar. He felt indignation for simply sitting beside Isabelle, as he knew shouldn't have been there. Too much had already happened. Isabelle knew more than she should have. Anar had broken the rules, and he knew it. He would have to do something about it; he would have to fix it.
Rising from the chair, Anar stepped into the dining room, examining the dinner table. "My first objective is to investigate the UFO Museum," he said. Pausing, he looked up at the chandelier hanging over the table, illuminating the room.
Isabelle reluctantly stood and lumbered into the dining room. "How do you expect to do that, looking like that?" she said, gesturing toward him.
A slight growl came up from Anar's throat as he took in a deep breath of air, analyzing the situation inside his head. "I need to investigate the museum as soon as possible," he muttered, as though to himself. He glanced at Isabelle on his right. "Psychoprojective telepathy," he said.
Eyeing Anar skeptically, Isabelle asked, "What is that?"
"I can project an image, telepathically, into a person's mind, and make them think they're seeing one thing when they're really seeing another." Growling to himself, Anar made a clicking sound. "The problem is, I can only do that for so long, and I have to know who's looking at me. If I don't know someone's around, I won't know to project the image into their mind, and they'll see me." His eyes shot at Isabelle again. "How many people are usually there?"
Isabelle's eyes trailed off in thought. Rubbing the back of her neck, she answered, "Well, I don't go usually go there, but now that the summer's started, there's probably going to be lots of people there. How long can you do this…psycho-whatever thing?"
Crossing his arms, Anar considered his abilities. "That depends on the number of people. For one person, I can do it for about an hour. …Twenty or thirty…about ten minutes, at most."
"Hm, you'll be cutting it close then," Isabelle warned. "They'll probably be more than that, cause it's a Saturday and all."
Frowning, Anar thought for a moment. "Let's go now," he said, and took off toward the door.
Isabelle followed, tiredly, behind Anar.