posted on Sep, 9 2012 @ 06:06 PM
The creature shuffled across the floor, each step shooting fiery bursts of agony down its spine and limbs. It wanted desperately to scream; to cry; to
shout out in anguish, but its tongue had long since been rendered inert. “Frozen,” its captors had called the condition, during the series of lab
procedures that forever stole its ability to speak.
It used a crude shovel, its only tool, to scrape the bones and fragments of flesh from floor into a filthy square basin. It was a clumsy business,
mostly due to the fact that, instead of hands—those once beautiful, dexterous appendages—it now had something more akin to flippers with flimsy,
useless digits. Every time it bent to scrape the rancid floor, new explosions of pain wracked its poor body.
But the pain was nothing compared to the fear. Each day, upon awakening, before its heavy eyes first opened, it felt a wash of sheer terror flood its
mind and course through its limbs. Absolute horror, massive anxiety and deep foreboding assaulted its mind, and it was left without a single drop of
hope or courage upon which to rest. The aliens had even managed to remove adrenaline from its DNA so that, while its mind still reeled in the age-old
flight-or-fight dilemma, the body could respond with neither impulse.
It heard a hissing sound from the corner of the sultry room. “Oh, God!” it thought, “It’s waking.” The notion wasn’t quite accurate. The
aliens never slept, really, only briefly veiled the large glowing yellow eyes that wrapped almost around their heads. Even from the state they called
“torpor,” the aliens still assaulted the sub-human slaves with telepathic mental torment.
The contempt the aliens held for the once-human creatures was palpable. Not only did they enjoy the fear and physical anguish the slaves endured, they
seemed to feed on it, as well. It was a dual source of nourishment for them: the skin, organs, flesh and bones to consume and the negative emotions to
The alien opened its glowing eyes and bared three rows of jagged teeth in a grimacing smile. Its lizard-like tail shot around from behind the
sub-human organism and whacked it hard in the middle of the back. The poor creature tumbled to the floor as saliva dripped from its tormentor’s thin
lips. The scaly reptilian beast towered over him and ingested the slave’s agony as a connoisseur drinks a fine wine. Then, it reached down, and with
a sudden gesture, wrenched off one of the sub-human’s “fingers.” It began chewing the fleshy bone and tendons. “Mmmmrrrrrmmrrrm...” it
The subhuman curled in a fetal position, grasping its wound, and rocking from the sheer, throbbing pain. It knew that it, too, would soon be reduced
to a mass of bones and mangled flesh for the next victim to scrape into the bin.
A second, even larger and more loathsome alien entered the room, its scales glistening in the murky green light. It hailed the other alien,
“Greetings, Litszcin.” To the sub-creature, the second aliens' thoughts were even stronger and more painful than the other’s.
“Shai’tan,” responded the alien, the finger hanging from its lip like a cigarette.
The sub-human felt, rather than heard their telepathic conversation, as if from the end of a long tunnel.
“The new batch of specimens is highly successful, Shai’tan. Look at this one.”
The alien regarded the sub-human from several angles with a piercing stare. “Yes, mmmhm....good.”
“We’ve extracted its DNA, and we’re ready to synthesize it in the new GMO grain molecule to pass over to the human government,” said Litszcin.
His thoughts dripped with disdain at the word, “human.”
“The human government calls them ‘super grains,’” said Shai’tan. Both emitted something like a deep chuckle combined with a hiss.
“And, you’re sure they will introduce them to the food supply?” asked Litszcin.
“Oh, yes,” responded his comrade, “Remember, they are greedy, this race, especially since the collapse of their world economy. They’re
convinced that their new ‘super grains’ will solve the massive starvation problem and even eliminate conditions such as cancer and aging. They
can’t wait to get their grubby hands on the grains.”
“And the common people, do they believe the government’s claims? They’re not insisting on any long-term studies of the new GMO crop yields?”
“That’s the best part,” replied Shai’tan. “They’re so desperate that they’re ready to lap them up immediately. Within a generation,
we’ll have the slave race that our ancestors planned many eons ago.” Both gloated at the notion, the energy causing a fresh wave of agony in the
once-human being still huddled on the stone floor.
At the new mental onslaught, the sub-creature writhed and opened its eyes. It rolled over, just in time to see two gleaming sets of teeth—one with
bits of its own flesh still dangling from them—closing in.