Different

His life a lie, a family he never knew, and a home he's never known.

He opened his eyes slowly, hoping that he would wake up and be in his own bed, but that was not to be the case. His eyes slowly adjusted to the little light that seemed to seep into the room he was in as he took inventory of his surroundings. He was on a bed – no, more like a cot. There was also a sink and a toilet in one corner. The light he assumed came from ceiling light actually came from the moon through a barred window. Running his hands through his dark brown hair he wondered what he could do and decided not much. He wondered if he felt well enough to put on the clothes he saw on a shelf nearby. He could not very well stay in his underwear.

The door creaked and the young man started and looked up. “John, the director will see you now. Please put these on,” a rather severe looking young woman said, handing him the clothes.

She waited for him to dress, tapping her foot impatiently.

Once he was done, she approached him, “Sorry, but these will be necessary,” she said cuffing one leg and then the other, “do not try anything, it will not go well for you.” The woman said with a smile that did not quite reach her eyes as she nodded towards the door.

It was then he saw the guard, he would never stand a chance. Although, what they thought he would do was questionable, he was just a seventeen year old boy. He wanted to tell them that it was a horrible mistake and go home. John looked around one last time at the cell that at least was more familiar than the director he was to meet as his ankles were shackled.

“What, what’s he the director of?”

The woman looked up in surprise. “He’s the director of the CIA, of course. Come on, let’s go.”

Without another word they left the cell and started down a hallway, turning every once in a while until John was completely turned around. Although, he supposed that was the point, keep a person turn around enough and they could never find the exit. None of this was his doing and if he ever got out of he would go after Robert Morestone, it was his fault really.

John had been working at the diner that afternoon, stealing glances out the plate-glass windows. Where sunny skies and a group of his friends waited him, they waved and he smiled and that was when the voices started again. Voices he had started hearing a few months ago, rarely at first and then coming with more frequency. He was pretty sure that he was losing his mind. The voices were whisperings at first, then getting louder and louder, until John dropped the dish bin he was holding, clutching his ears. The resounding crash chased the voices from his head, but also brought the wrath of Mr. Morestone on him.

“John, one simple task, clear the tables, that’s all I ask and what do you do, try to break the goddamn dishes! I knew I shouldn’t have hired a seventeen year old, but no, I decided to be nice.”

“Mr. Morestone, I’m…"

“sorry, I know. This is the third incident this week. You kid are the clumsiest,” Mr. Morestone poked John’s chest, “laziest idiot. You’re fired,” Mr. Morestone poked him again.

John snapped, “Fine, I don’t need your damn job anyway.” John yelled staring at the black and white tile floor.

Suddenly an invisible force slammed Robert Morestone against the wall. It was just after the noon rush, so the diner was fairly empty and no one even looked up. The cashier looked at John in shock, not moving to help his boss.

“Mr. Morestone slowly raised his head, “what the hell did you do to me you little punk?” He moved, rising up and stumbling towards John.

“Nothing,” John cried, shocked, running out of the diner. Feeling however that he had somehow done something, but not sure what.

That evening he tried to forget everything that happened. When the doorbell rang a couple of hours later he was sure that it was police, Mr. Morestone having somehow blamed John for what happened. Fortunately, his parents were not home, he did not want to get arrested in front of them or explain what happened to Mr. Morestone for that matter. He walked barefoot to the door, apprehensive as he opened it. However, when he opened the door what he found were not the police, but two people a man and a woman in dark grey suits and then it all went dark. John brought himself back to Earth as they approached a door with a frosted window pane that just said, Director, very discreetly in gold leaf lettering.

"Hello, John, sorry about the way you were taken, but we really couldn't take any chances with you." The man's mouth moved in what John was sure was his version of a smile, but looked more like a grimace.

"What do you want with me?"

"Ah, I like that, a man that gets to the point. More to the point though is what do you want?"

"I want to go home."

"And there's the rub, we can't have you going home just yet. Don't worry, no one will miss you."

"Why?"

"Because we've made sure they won't. You're special John, we've been studying you for years, and you have several unique talents. You are for one thing a telekinetic and we believe to a certain extent telepathic, at the very least a receiver."

"No, I'm not."

"You are. Why do you deny it?" The director smiled broadly for the first time, "the one means you can move objects with your mind and the other means you can hear people’s thoughts. Do you know how many people would kill to do that? For example, what you did with Mr. Morestone, throwing him against the wall, well, that was very impressive."

"That wasn't me!" John frowned.

"Walk with me John, I have news for you. You did that, the science lab incident, and the erasers when the teacher gave you that undeserved ‘F', I could go on. You know how I know it was you?" He asked putting his arm around John's shoulder.

"How do you know it was me?" John asked trying to resist the urge to shrug the man’s arm off his shoulder.

"I knew you since the day you were born. Technically, I knew you before you were born. I'm sure you know about Roswell?" They passed several doors till they were at a door that required handprint access.

"Sure a spaceship crashed there. However, I didn’t do any of it. Those things just happened. Those were just random accidents, they could have happened to anyone at anytime." John could not say that with much conviction though, especially after the incident with Mr. Morestone.

"But you were the cause, whether you wish to accept that or not," the director replied, placing his hand on the pad, "You were right about Roswell, there were five aliens aboard, four were dead, and one was not. We took, blood and tissue samples and then suspended him," the door silently opened, "we then took twelve eggs and injected them with the alien's genetic material and got twelve totally different men and women. Most who went to foster parents until their abilities had developed and their bodies had matured. Their ‘parents’ as you would refer to them knew that at some point they would have to give you back to us. We’ve been picking them up for the last six months and you were the last."

John could not believe what he was hearing; his life had been a lie? It did not make any sense. At the same time he realized where he was, a lab. Petrie dishes and beakers cluttered the long tables and several microscopes sat around, also several small machines he did not recognize. However, it was what was in the corner that caught his breath. If the director was to believed, it was his biological father, frozen in time. The alien male was very tall and a shade of green that he had only seen in alien movies. He could have almost believed that this was a movie, a giant practical joke at his expense. Except that no one he knew would do that to him.

"But I can't be an alien, I'm human, I look human!" John cried, grabbing at his arm, the pale color, calming him.

"We did have to do some genetic tweaking to make sure at least appearance-wise you would look human." The Director looked towards the corner where John's attention was focused, "quite a sight isn't he?"

"What do you want with us? How’d you even know we’d be able to do anything?"

"The twelve of you will be America's secret weapon. Young soldiers, faster, all of you the top of your class, and with abilities that men have only dreamed of, you twelve are the future of humankind. We knew you’d be special, all of you, because just before we suspended your father, he threw two of our leading scientists against the far wall with just the force of his mind, killing one of them on impact. So yes we knew that you would all be very special indeed. We know about the telekinetic abilities and some of the others have shown some telepathic abilities, but who knows what other secrets your group is hiding, beneath that human-looking exterior."
The director smiled, “in fact, we are hoping you can help us with something else as well. We scavenged several pieces from the alien ship and transported them here. One of them we are fairly certain is a communication device, but so far we have been unable to learn how to use it, except we believe it to be voice-activated, due to the lack of buttons. We are hoping that one of you might be able to make it work.” The director held out a small black box the size of a Rubik’s cube.

“Even if I could, why would I ever want to? Why not just ask him?” John spit out angrily, nodding towards the alien in the corner.

“How would you propose we ask him, we can’t protect ourselves from his mind and we haven’t been able to make heads or tails of his language. John, John, you do not want me as an enemy; believe me when I say I can make life very difficult for you if I choose. I can go after those ‘parents’ of yours, I know they were very fond of you. Anyway, we’ll talk more tomorrow. Ms. Beacon, take him back to his cell. Get a good night sleep John, you’ll need it.”

As John was directed back to the hallway to his cell, he noticed something he had not been aware of when he left. The other cells around him were not empty as they had first appeared. They held kids about his age, judging by the eleven pairs of grey eyes that looked back at him and he knew what must be done. That night as the guards slept, a quiet humming issued from Hallway D, as its prisoners got to know each other and figured out their options.

“I don’t know if we should communicate with each other, the director might not like it.” A young man said fearfully in the cell across from John’s cell.

“We can’t go back to our parents can we?” A girl’s voice asked.

“No. They knew about this from day one. They might turn us in.”

“Well we can’t stay here, they want to make us super soldiers, killers.” Another voice piped up.

“What if…” John started.

“What if what?”

John stammered, “It was nothing really, kind of stupid, if you must know.”

“We can’t judge if it’s stupid or not, if you won’t tell us, just spit it out.” Another girl replied.

“Well, we are the sons and daughters of an alien aren’t we, what if we just went home?”

The silence that descended the cellblock was palpable. All that could be heard in the hallway was the guard’s gentle snores, as the teenagers let it sink in.

“That’s stupid. How would we get there?” A boy asked and the gentle humming resumed.

“The aliens had a communication device; if we can get in the lab and get the communication device we can contact them.”

“But we can’t speak…” the first boy started.

He stopped speaking when he realized that they had not been talking in English. This time the silence that came was an excited silence as the teenagers took in magnitude of being able to speak their mother tongue.

The girl in the cell next to John squashed their jubilation, “But that lab is handprint secured.” She said, her anxiety causing her to speaking out loud,”Even if we wanted to we couldn’t get in there.”

“Has everyone been to see the lab?” John asked.

“I haven’t,” one of the girls answered, “I got here yesterday night and I slept through, I guess they didn’t want to wake me. Director told me he would take tomorrow. He wanted to take; John is it, on tour first. Apparently, John caused a ruckus just before he was taken.”

“Tomorrow I guess is when our fate is decided. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.” John said and the cellblock was quiet once more.
*************
The girl, Lisa was taken to see the director after breakfast the next morning. The other eleven were herded to a large gym, where a man who was dressed in camouflage and wore a whistle around his neck awaited them.

He pointed towards eleven red, rubber balls that were lined up in the middle of the floor. “Okay, soldiers, and from now on that is what ya’ll are, you are to move these balls up and down using only what’s between the ears. Do you understand?”

Chimes of yes, yes sir, yeah, and other affirmatives assaulted the drill instructor’s ears, “you will always address your superiors as Yes sir or ma’am and we’re all your superiors. Do I make myself understood?”

“Yes sir.” They chorused.

“Then begin.”

Up, down, the instructor went up and down the line, nodding towards those who were doing fine and barking at those who were not, “Smith, you look like a goddamn bobble-head doll if you do that in the field the enemy is going to know you are up to something. You don’t need to move to make the ball move. Jones, faster, you’re not dancing with it, make it move! Johnson, same goes for you, you need to make that ball move!”

After three hours of moving red balls in every direction that could be thought of, they were lead to a common room until lunch. A couple people picked up the paddles from the ping-pong table in the middle of the room, playing a half-hearted game. While the rest watched television from the small 13 inch black and white set that sat in the corner. Everyone was waiting for Lisa and the hope she brought with her. Finally she came, bringing light to the cold, grey room.

A couple of the teens mentally fried the video feed to the communal room and a couple of bugs they found when sweeping the room. Once John was certain that they were alone he turned to Lisa.

“Did you get it?” John asked.

“Yes, but it wasn’t easy.” Lisa replied, “the Director almost caught me as I pocketed it, but I managed to divert his attention just in time.”

“Okay, listen up; we have a minute before they are going to get concerned. Luckily I was able to do a little ‘mental’ persuasion to the soldier outside the door to take a long lunch and take both keys with him. I think I bought us a half hour before they will be able to get in here.” John said.

Lisa took out the communication device and twelve pairs of eyes studied it with keen interest.

“How do we work it?”

“Maybe there are some hidden buttons?”

“Maybe it’s word-sensitive?”

“Maybe, there is a menu,” John said taking the device from Lisa; “the director said he thought it was voice activated.”

Then slightly tripping over the strange words, John started to voice possible commands to the cube, with the others giving suggestions. Finally, the cube started to hum and then a holographic head appeared. The floating green head rotated 360 degrees taking in all twelve teenagers.

“Who are you? Where is Sareem Kalal? How have you obtained this device?”

Speaking quickly and interrupting one another they attempted to get their story out until John held up his hand. Then as calmly as he could with his hands shaking as he did so, he outlined the events that had caused them to call out to a planet they had never even seen before.

“I see, you have acted wisely, you cannot stay on Earth that much is certain. I will send a ship posthaste and it should arrive soon. I cannot say with certainty what will happen to you on our planet, but we welcome any of Sareem’s children. While you are waiting, there is something I need you to do.”
*************
“What’s taking so long?” Ms. Beacon asked testily.

“This room was designed for no one to enter or leave without a key, the soldier took both keys and went to town and we are hunting to find another…” the sergeant quelled under the look she gave him and looked visibly relieved as a soldier ran up with a spare key.

“It’s about time, damnit! The cameras have been down fifteen minutes!”

As soon as the door open, Ms. Beacon took charge, “okay, children, enough…” she was speaking to an empty room, which was the last thing she saw before the explosion, an oddly fitting parting gift.