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The other alien leaves and the room grows eerily tense. My alien doesn’t turn to face me. He doesn’t even shift his posture.

I open my mouth to say something, but he holds up a hand, motioning for me to stay quiet. I do as he says. As much as itpisses me off that I trust him so easily, I can’t just make myself not.

So, I cross my arms and try to give him a look that says, ‘I might trust you, but it doesn’t mean I like it.’ The way his lips kick up in the corner makes me think he’s not getting the full effect of what I’m trying to do.

His human disguise is gone all at once, and he’s kneeling on my bed next to me. He leans over me until our faces are close. One of his hands is on my lower back, trapping me. Or it’d be trapping me if I wanted to get away, which I do not. The other cups my cheeks, and I close my eyes to feel the safety in it. Things shouldn’t be this easy. Things are never this easy.

“What’s your name?” I ask, not liking that I keep having to refer to him as my alien or weird glowing energy man. “Mine’s Simone.”

“Vexarionaxnoryndrik,” he says, his light growing brighter as a chuckle escapes his lips. “You can just call me Vex.”

“No, just repeat it a few times and tell me when I mess it up,” I murmur, noticing that his face seems to come nearer and nearer to mine with each word. “I want to learn it.”

“What else do you want to learn?” he asks me, his words more seductive than curious.

I’ll kiss him. I know I will, but first, I need to make something very clear.

“First, I think you need to learn something.” My words are rough as my need fills them. My hands clench at my sides, wanting to touch him, but I don’t know if I can yet or if I’m touching his naked body. Is he naked right now? Yeah, that’s all part of what I need to learn, but first, the whole female thing.

“I’ll learn anything, tell me,” Vexarionaxnoryndrik murmurs so low that I inch my mouth closer to where I imagine his is.

The need boiling inside me is all-consuming, but I somehow manage to keep my priorities straight for one more second. Or atleast I think I can until his lips crash into mine. And yes, they’re lips, soft and inviting.

He explores my mouth as I explore his. My hands move up to cup his head. It’s more solid than it looks. His energy wraps between my fingers and ripples around me as I try to pull him closer to me.

We kiss for long moments until we’re both out of breath. Well, I’m out of breath. I don’t know what he is.

When he pulls away, I know neither of us wants to stop, but instead of asking him to keep going, I blurt out. “Don’t call me female.”

He throws his head back, a laugh erupting in the room. “No more calling you female. It’s easy enough when it’s just the two of us.” He doesn’t explain more before his lips are back on mine, and we’re learning a lot more about one another in a very hands-on way.

2

Vexarionaxnoryndrik

“Vexarionaxnoryndrik, it’s come to the attention of the collective mind that you’ve been shirking the duties you were assigned when Unit A was opened two and a half years ago. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that when you’re required to share your memories of the previous months, there are pockets of memories you’ve kept restricted from the rest of us. We’ve allowed you to retain some of your secrets because there was no danger to Unit A or the experiments we set out to conduct. However, with the secrecy and now your refusal to answer our summons, I’m required to alert you to a total collection of your mind if you do not comply with me now.”

I keep my thoughts calm. The mental fortitudes I’ve set up over the years lock in place around all of my thoughts of Simone and my plans of joining her. If the collective mind wishes to know everything, then they will. I can at least hold out until I’mactually forced into revealing all of myself and leaving my mind open for my memories to be torn bit by bit.

I’m almost certain they’re bluffing. It takes major transgressions for the collective mind to agree to open a mind to reveal everything. In fact, I can think of only once in my lifetime that a vote has been cast, and that was for crimes much worse than mine.

“Vexarionaxnoryndrik, are you listening?” Amarithlumonarion is the elder speaking in my mind right now. He’s the one in charge of Unit A and this portion of Earth.

The elders are mostly the same, only differing in some of their values since different subsections of the collective vote on them. Elders are figureheads voted on by the collective mind every year to act as the ones who correspond with the Creator. They decide which planets we help, which Hands we offer our services to if their planets need assistance, and they keep the rest of us in line.

I never much cared that I was only one piece of a collective whole. When it’s how you grow up, knowing a piece of yourself will always be available to everyone else, you get used to it. I didn’t care about secrets or privacy until I met Simone. That’s when I knew I needed to carve out a piece of my mind and keep it safe and secure from the others.

“I’m listening,” I respond in my mind as I go over the latest lab results from the remaining women in Unit A12. It’s still my job to ensure they’re all fit to travel to their new home.

I was reprimanded after allowing Nia, A12-18, to move to the new planet much ahead of schedule and after being ruled infertile. I made a promise to Simone that I’d keep her friends safe, though, and the only place Nia would be safe was on planet 87.39.49. I’m sure the inhabitants have another name for it, but the Hands are more used to numbering everything. Even me. I’m technically Hand 23.34.12.15.48.01.

However, the latest Creator, a Hand who took on the role twenty-eight years ago—well, human years—decided we all needed names of our own. Our species needs to evolve with each new Creator, and it seems that Creator 562 decided we were to have our own names.

“Good, then explain to us what has been happening in the missing pockets of memories,” Amarithlumonarion says, his tone coming across more tired than upset as he speaks to me.

He wouldn’t be the first elder to get tired of the monotony of being an elder. Maybe he’s one who actually cares about the other Hands. Some of the elders care more about having their minds have more sway than those of us who are working Hands.

“I don’t feel as though the missing pieces of my memory have any impact on the work I’m currently conducting for the collective and the Creator.” I’ve rehearsed saying the words so many times that they slide through my mind like silk and into the collective as though they’re not total lies.