The Invasion

Thomas was a quintessentially contemporary twenty-something of average build and intellect. He was a dispassionate consumer and an ambivalent observer – a sardonic, self-absorbed young man with little ambition and no real goals. Thomas was an avid follower of pop culture, popular on social media, a tech-savvy, jaded master of the internet, and totally ordinary. He spent his days at a computer in a large call center, high pressure selling mobile phone plans. He spent his nights at a computer at home, immersed in the richly detailed virtual world of a popular role-playing game. As fate would have it, this typical individual would soon be caught up in events of the most inexplicable variety. Thomas was about to stumble upon evidence of a large scale, clandestine takeover of the planet by hidden, malevolent entities. He was about to be thrust into the role of potential savior of the human race.

It began on a day like any other. Thomas arrived for work less than fully rested, having stayed up late into the night playing his game. He shuffled into the building feeling distant, a hazy fog in his head. As he approached his work station, he noticed that many of his coworkers had been given cubicle upgrades. It was the company’s way of incentivizing the employees and rewarding good behavior and strong performances. Successful salespeople were allowed to have a few personal trinkets on their desk or a family photo or two on the wall. If one performed really well, a door would be installed. The exceptional employees – the die-hard, ruthless, predatory sellers – would have their entire cubicle hydraulically lifted two feet off the floor, so that they were actually elevated above the others. Thomas could see, to his chagrin, that his cubicle had received no such upgrades. On the contrary, a wall had been removed and his chair replaced with an unfinished wooden box. It was going to be a rough day.

“Sucks to be you,” he heard someone hidden behind a pale green cubicle wall say. He didn’t respond. “That’s a bummer, bro,” insisted the voice. Thomas peered over the wall. It was Brian, another cog in the marketing machine. “Lost a wall…shitty deal, bro,” said Brian, clearly enjoying Thomas’ predicament. Thomas noticed that Brian now had a video game character bobblehead toy perched beside his monitor. The character was an anthropomorphic rabbit from a popular game, and its head was seemingly nodding in approval of Brian’s less-than-sympathetic commentary.

Thomas sighed. “Well, Brian,” he said. “Worse things have happened.” Little did he know, at that moment, how true this statement was. Brian laughed obnoxiously. “Dude! Try, like, showing up on time…or literally working or something.” Brian loved the word ‘literally’, and he constantly misused it. “No worries, bro,” Brian continued. “We’ll hook up later for, like, a beer or some shit.”

“Sounds good,” Thomas said, with no real intention of following through with such a plan. He could only tolerate Brian in small doses. “See you later, then,” he said as he took a seat on the wooden box in his cubicle.

Thomas powered on the computer. A login screen appeared on the monitor. He typed his name and password into the empty fields and prepared to do the job he was nominally paid for. Normally, at this point, his screen would display a long list of names and numbers – potential customers, his targets for the day. This time, however, the screen remained dark. Thomas punched some keys at random. Still nothing happened. “Oh, come on…” he said quietly…but not quietly enough. “What’s up, bro?” asked Brian from the adjacent cubicle. “Technical issues,” replied Thomas. “Don’t worry about it.” Brian grunted and resumed dialing. Within moments, Thomas could hear him mindlessly, mechanically launching into the sales pitch: “Good morning, sir. I’m calling on behalf of…” Thomas tuned it out. Just hearing those first few words made him grimace and shiver with revulsion. I hate this job, he thought. I hate this job with a passion.

Thomas sat for a short spell, contemplating the unresponsive computer, and in another chamber of his mind, the state and direction of his young life. He considered summoning a supervisor. He considered walking off the job. Instead, he apathetically tapped a few more random keys. Still no response. “Ugh!” he cried, and punched an angry fist into the keyboard…suddenly the screen came to life – a bright, white background with three words in large, bold type dead center:

WE ARE HERE.

The screen flashed in a strobe-like manner for a few seconds and then went black. Thomas sat motionless and stunned. What was that? Those three simple, little words – so innocuous, yet somehow imbued with a dreadful, threatening menace. Had he really seen that? Was it a glitch? A prank, perhaps? He could still hear Brian mindlessly reciting the sales script to some poor sucker on the other end of the line. Overtired, he thought. Overactive imagination. Too many video games and movies…too many obscure, esoteric websites. Get a grip!

Thomas hesitatingly lowered an extended, trembling index finger to the keyboard. He gently poked an arbitrary key. Nothing happened. He exhaled, mostly relieved, but slightly, oddly, disappointed. “Hey, Brian…you on a call? I’ve got a question for…” The screen burst to life – again, a bright, white background with three simple words dead center in large, bold type:

IT’S TOO LATE.

Thomas felt adrenaline flood his chest. There was a throbbing sensation in his temple now, like insects trying to escape his skull…or burrow into his brain. “What in the…” he muttered. “This has to be a joke.” Immediately, two words appeared on the monitor:

NO JOKE.

Intuition told Thomas that the situation was indeed no joke – something sinister and very serious was happening. Thomas felt a sudden desire to leave his cubicle and get as far away from the computer as possible. As if reading his mind, the monitor instantaneously displayed four new words:

THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

“Okay, okay…I’m done here,” Thomas said. He reached down and pushed a button, shutting down the computer. Part of him expected it to autonomously power up again in defiance, but it remained dormant. Relieved, he stood up, ready to flee this awful place. He wasn’t able to avoid the attention of Brian. “Going somewhere, bro?”

“I’m really not feeling well. Going home,” he replied.

“Not gonna look good, buddy! Could cost you another wall.”

“Don’t care.” Thomas walked away before Brian could respond. He considered talking with a supervisor and asking to be excused for the day due to illness. It occurred to him that he could simply walk away and never return. The idea greatly pleased him. The impulse was too strong to ignore. He gathered his belongings, left the cubicle, and walked straight out of the building, never once looking back. It felt wonderful. Now he was going home to rest, and to put the day’s disconcerting events behind him.

Once at home, Thomas could finally relax. He was not overly concerned with his current state of unemployment. He was bright enough and had sufficient experience to find a similar job with relative ease. Now, though, he had the rest of the day in which to enjoy himself. There was no doubt about how he would do that. He retrieved his laptop computer and sat down in his favorite recliner. He powered the machine on and booted up his favorite game. Thomas was excited that he could now spend the rest of the day – and night, if he wanted – playing his game. He was eager to ‘level-up’ a new character he had created.

The game finished loading. Thomas felt like a kid again, giddy with anticipation, enthusiastic about playing with his toys. Good times, he thought. Yeah. Thomas began to move his character, a lumbering, cartoonish ogre wielding a giant axe, through the virtual environment. His brain waves were just beginning to slip into a lower frequency when he noticed some text appear in the chat box at the bottom of the screen:

WE ARE HERE.

Seriously? Gotta be hackers or internet trolls, Thomas thought. He was alarmed, though – rattled enough to consider cutting his game session short. “I can’t let these guys spook me,” he said aloud. “That’s exactly what they want.” Instead of exiting the game, Thomas chose to engage ‘them’ in conversation.

“You don’t scare me”, he typed into the chat box. “I know who you are.” Both statements were lies, of course. An instant response:

YES WE DO. NO YOU DON’T.

“Ok, who are you? I’ll play along. Got nothing better to do. Could be fun!”

WE FEED ON YOU.

That bit was actually quite creepy. Thomas was genuinely unnerved. He reached for an open can of soda. Before his fingers closed around it, text appeared:

DRINK UP. IT WON’T HELP.

Thomas’ sense of unease grew to immense proportions. Anxiety gripped his mind. Paranoid thoughts cascaded thorough his brain: Am I being watched? Do I have unseen enemies? Are they tying to destroy me? Am I going crazy?

He slammed shut the laptop computer, set it down on the floor, and pushed it away as if it had suddenly transformed into some vile creature. He felt disoriented, panicky, violated. He needed to collect his wits and gather his thoughts. Easy there, big guy, he told himself. Don’t lose it. He stood up, went to the kitchen, and splashed cold water on his face. He felt marginally better. I need to talk to someone. I need to ground myself to reality. He decided to call a friend.

As always, his mobile phone was in his front pocket, instantly accessible. With a nimble swipe of a finger, it was unlocked and ready for use. He adroitly manipulated the device, and was soon browsing his contact list. He just needed to hear a human voice right now…any voice. As he was perusing his extensive list of friends and family, he heard the familiar sound of his phone’s notification system. He had just received a new text message. With another quick swipe of his agile fingers, the message was displayed:

WE ARE HERE. WE FEED ON YOU. THERE IS NO ESCAPE.

There was no name or number attached to the message. It was if the phone itself was communicating with him. Thomas dropped the device. Gotta get out of here, he thought. This is insane. A primal flight response drove him from his apartment and out into the street. Thomas lived downtown, and as is typical for a weekday afternoon, there were people everywhere, going about their business in a bustling mass of humanity. To his absolute horror, Thomas noticed that each of them, every single man, woman, and child, had a mobile device in their hands. Some were texting, some were talking, some were staring blankly at the screens, but they were all entirely preoccupied with the insidious little machines.

The epiphany struck Thomas with force. A veil was lifted from his eyes, and for the first time, he could see the world with clarity. An invasion had occurred, he realized – a covert infiltration by sentient, malevolent, parasitic entities. Why they revealed themselves to Thomas he did not know, but he understood that they were indeed feeding on human beings. Were they technological in nature, or did they use technology to attach themselves to us? He couldn’t be sure. What was clear, though, is that these entities fed on the energy, the vitality, the life-force of their human hosts. Almost every person in the developed world has a computer, a tablet, or a cell phone, and technology is spreading – the parasites are spreading. Thomas wondered if it was too late to engage other people using direct, face-to-face, verbal communication.