F(q)a(xj)te

         You watch as the aliens slowly crawl over your land. They are as one, a slime mold made of individual entities, but a single mind. You press the red button on your desk (because what else is one to do at a probable apocalypse?), and venture outside to meet your fate.

         “You may call me Fqaxjte,” said the alien, extending a slimy flipper-tentacle thing toward you.

         You gingerly grasp the appendage in one hand. “You may call me – well I guess you could call me whatever you want, but my name is Jesse. I came to ask – are you sprinkling salt on me?” You let go of the slimy appendage and shake the salt from your hand onto the ground.

         The alien appeared deep in contemplation. “I suppose humans are already pretty salty. My doctor says I should watch my sodium intake.”

         “You have doctors?”

         “Well, I have one inside me.”

         “You can’t just eat us!”

         “Why not?”

         “Because we’re salty. Your doctor just told you to stop eating so much salt.”

         “If I do not eat you, then I am no longer part of Fqaxjte.”

         “It’s great not being part of a quasi-hive mind. You get to go where you want, do what you want, be what you want. You can do whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it.”

         Another alien approached. “What you speak of is called Independence, is it not?”

         “Yes!” you respond. “Independence is great! It is the freedom to read a book while eating chocolate in the privacy of a room that is entirely your own. It is having your own bathroom. It is the time to play as many video games as you want with no one to judge you. It is being able to eat what you want, when you want it, with no one else to tell you what and when it’s right to eat. It is the freedom to choose if you will walk or drive or just not go anywhere at all. It is ability to listen to whatever music you want, or not listen to anything. It is the ability to speak your mind and only fear a little retribution. It is a word that begins with the letter I. It is a noun in the English language!”

        The second alien says, “Why would any of that be a reason for us not to eat you?”

        “Oh, it’s not. It was just to stall long enough that the other humans could escape,” you explain, jabbing a thumb over your shoulder at the last of the humans scurrying onto the escape shuttle. “We hear there’s a lovely inhabitable planet nearby called Fate.”