“This, ladies and gentlemen, is the face of the enemy.” He paused, sweeping his gaze over the group. “We don’t know what they want or why they have become hostile. They have made no attempt at communication with us, no attempt at any sort of parley. They have made no demands or requests. The only thing we have to go on is how they have acted. The attacks have been spread over a wide number of different countries. People of a multitude of ethnicities, political orientations, and religious beliefs have been slaughtered by them. The only thing so far that stops them is them. After appearing and murdering as many people as they can, they simply fade away again. We do not know if they are on a clock, if their technology only allows them to manifest for a short time here, or if something else is making them disappear. There is no pattern we can discern. As of now, we have no choice but to assume their goal is the complete annihilation of our way of life.”
That took a minute to sink in. Were they trying to exterminate humanity? Was that their goal? Why now? If they were angels, surely they had been here before and could have managed this long before now.
Bishop continued. “I know what some of you are thinking: you are thinking that these things are really ‘angels’ and that must make them ‘holy’. That must mean they are from ‘God’; whichever one you happen to subscribe to. Well, I think most people would agree that the actions of the last couple of weeks would indicate otherwise. These things are stone-cold killers. There is nothing divine about them.”
“Then what the fuck are they?” I asked.
Bishop smiled at me like he was proud of me or something. “That’s a very good question Ms…,” he scanned the clipboard, “Delaney. As I’m sure your recruiter has already told you, we are working on a number of hypotheses. The one that holds the most weight is that they represent a new weapon of some kind, developed by rogue nations. Whether the ‘angel’ we see is some sort of illusion or hologram, masking a more traditional weapon, or the armor they appear to be wearing is in fact some kind of powered exoskeleton, we are not sure.”
“Mine was not wearing armor. She was basically naked.”
He nodded, still smiling. “Perhaps. Regardless, the other likely hypothesis is that they are some form of extraterrestrial life: entities that either gave birth to the story of ‘angels’ or are simply somehow using our own beliefs against us by appearing as things we would be in awe of so as to limit our ability to respond to them effectively.”
Several people behind me began to mutter. Aliens? Seriously? This sounded like something from a bad sci-fi movie. I had a hard time buying that anyone believed either of these ideas. On the other hand, they seemed far more believable than the idea that angels from God wanted to wipe out mankind.
“So you can see why we need you,” Bishop said.
Looking around, I saw that I was not the only person who failed to see where he was going with this.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Waving his clipboard at us, Bishop said, “It is clear to us that you, all of you in this room, are somehow connected to what happened. Either you have been altered by the nature of the weapon being used on us intentionally, or the entity’s technology has somehow altered your DNA, we are not really sure yet. Regardless, it is clear that none of you demonstrated any powers or abilities prior to your encounter with the entities. Since then, you have changed. You have abilities that set you apart from the rest of us, for reasons that are not yet understood.”
He made eye contact with each one of us before saying, “That is why we need you. We want to use those abilities against the enemy.”
Ok, this made no sense. I could feel my eyes rolling. What could running really fast and healing really good do? I could not fight someone who could rip people apart or blow up streets with a clap of their hands. This was insane.
A girl near me raised her hand. She was in jeans and a green button-up jumper. Long, wavy dark red hair fell down past her shoulders. Pretty, with a prominent nose and olive skin, she looked just a few years older than me, like 20 or 21. Bishop acknowledged her hand. “Um, excuse me, but what powers are those?”
Bishop did not need to scan his clipboard to remember her name. “Good question, Ms. Avrum. I know that many of you are aware of the changes that have taken place in yourselves. Several of you have recuperated from grievous injuries in times that can only be considered miraculous. Others have started demonstrating abilities in different… fields. Some have shown no discernable new abilities since the change, but we have determined that you are among those altered by your proximity to the entities. We will locate your particular talent while you are here and hopefully, help you to learn to make the most of it.”
He continued, but I stopped listening for a moment. How the hell did they know someone had changed if they had not demonstrated some sort of ability? They were testing me almost on the hour every hour to learn things about me, yet with other people, they were just guessing? That did not make any sense. How could they possibly know? How could they possibly hope to teach us something when they did not have a handle on it themselves? It’s not like they had manuals for this sort of thing. There was no ‘Uncle Johnny’s Guide to Using your New Superpowers!’ that I was aware of. Just who did they think was going to be teaching us?
Bishop continued with his speech, “We will locate your particular talent and make the best of it. That is our pledge to you.” He stepped back up to the podium, his face determined and earnest, like a preacher on TV. “We know this has been difficult for you. We know that whether you survived one of the recent attacks, or simply one of the visitations, nothing has been the same for you since. Some of you have voluntarily come here; others of you have been freed from incarceration or other unfortunate circumstances so that you can be here. We recognize the tough choices you have ahead.”
Bishop paused again, looking around for a reaction from us. I could see some of the people near me were hooked. This guy was good.
“We want you to stay here at Camp Matthews for two weeks at our expense. Listen to what we have to say, see what we are offering you. Talk to the others we have recruited before you. We hope that, at the end of that time, you will decide to remain here with us. You need to understand the government-no, the entire human race-needs your help. We want to show you what needs to be done and why we think you are the ones to do it. After your time here you can decide if you want to stay or go.” Bishop beamed that fake smile of his, before adding, “I’m sure you’ll make the right choice.”
If we were the result of angelic interference, if our powers came from the enemy...I did not imagine we would get any choice at all.