The Capital (The Chosen, Act 1, Part 2)

_{By B_Me on pixabay.com}

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Act 1:
Part 1

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January 1st, 2166

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The outside world was … disturbing. Joel had been prepared for years, he had studied the reports to the smallest detail. He knew the technology, the society, the sub-communities, the etiquette, and the traditions. But just reading about something doesn’t prepare you for the real thing, doesn’t equip you for the cultural shock. Not fully.

The night before, he had found shelter in a cheap, dirty hostel. There was enough money on the account he had been provided with, but the rule was not to draw unnecessary attention. And servants of God were generally expected to live in poverty, or at least not sleep in the most expensive hotels.

It hadn’t bothered him, the dust was endurable, the heat was tolerable and the bedbugs a nuisance that he was able to fight with some bug spray he had brought. The problems had started the next morning, the moment he stepped out of the door into the buzzing life of the capital of the British federation.

Thousands of humans were rushing from there to here and back, either by foot or with a vehicle, which could be a bicycle – or a more modern version of Joel’s flying capsule. For several minutes, Joel just stood at the side of the road, watching the people pass by and trying to understand the flow of the traffic. He didn’t want to horribly die in an accident after all. _@suesa

After a while, he was able to determine a pattern in the way everything moved. There were subtle rules that seemed to be followed by everyone, times when someone stopped to let someone else pass, a change in speed before taking a turn. There even appeared dedicated areas where pedestrians could safely cross, even though Joel was unable to find any visual clue supporting that this was an official rule.

”The laws of the street”, he mumbled to himself and smiled faintly. Then, he took a step and immersed himself in the traffic, becoming a part of the city.

It was surprisingly easy to blend in, and nobody paid him any attention. The anonymity of the city allowed him to move wholly undisturbed and gather some first impressions. These impressions were loud, colorful, and exhausting. After just one hour, Joel already craved a break from all of this, to recharge his mental energy. And his mapping device.

He picked the next pub he passed, hoping they’d serve something similar to breakfast, not just alcohol. But the moment he stepped through the door, he knew it had been a mistake.

The pub was filled with aliens.

All eyes turned towards him and had there been any music, Joel was sure it would have come to a screeching halt. Instead, all conversations died down, and he could have heard the proverbial needle fall. Joel coughed awkwardly.

”I … uh … have you heard about our good Lord, Jesus Christ?” Tiny pearls of sweat started forming on his forehead, moved together to create droplets, which then ran down his temples. He could feel his heart beating faster and began to shiver, despite the nanobots. The cold he was feeling wasn’t something they could counter.

From the shadows, a chuckle emerged.

”You for real?” The darkness gave birth to a figure, more humanoid than the aliens who resembled giant, malformed insects more than anything else on earth. Humanoid, but not human. Joel felt like throwing up. A hybrid. A fucking hybrid.

Human-alien hybrids were not supposed to be viable, not from a biological view. But the aliens didn’t give a damn about what humanity had believed to know about biology. In the beginning, they had abducted humans, male, female, it didn’t matter to them and then harvested them for their sperm and egg cells. These had then be combined with their own reproduction cells and kept alive thanks to sophisticated biotechnology.

Till this day, humans had not been able to reproduce the results. But there were some who now willingly donated their genetic material to be the proud foster parent of one of these disgusting creatures. They believed it was the next step in evolution, a fusion of two intelligent races.

The society of the enlightened didn’t think so, but they also didn’t particularly like the aliens. Because the aliens had ruined everything when they had arrived in orbit and had made contact with humanity. The shift in power had been devastating.

”You come into this pub”, the hybrid continued, ”You come here, to a place full of aliens, and preach about a god that doesn’t exist?” Joel tensed up and prepared himself to fight. The weak spots on an alien body went through his mind. Or should he focus on the human ones? What would help against this creature?

The hybrid started laughing.

”Man, you got balls! Barkeep, get my religious friend here something with spirit. Something strong. Courage like this must be rewarded.” The tension in the room relaxed and Joel was able to breathe in the stale air again.

”You coming?” The hybrid called out, indicating with a malformed hand that Joel should sit next to him. He didn’t want to, but what other option was there? Cautiously, Joel followed the offer and sat down next to the hybrid, which also placed him across from an ordinary alien. The barkeeper set a drink in front of him, from which he immediately took a large gulp.

”Preacher can drink!” The hybrid exclaimed joyfully, when Joel didn’t bat an eye. The fake missionary had to prevent himself from rolling his eyes. He could handle alcohol better than his biology was supposed to allow him, thanks to some of the genetic modifications that he had been subject to before he even had been born. Despite the sophisticated way in which it was created, the hybrid was a truly primitive creature.

A primitive creature he would now drink with, to ensure his own further survival.

”To you, my new friend”, he said and raised his glass.

”To me, Xeraias.”

Now the hybrid had a name.

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