I am not one of these damn fool alien-opposition people.  I get along fine with the NewComers, now that their Integration Project has finally, finally, been passed by the U.S. Senate, and all the wonderful new technologies and, ah, other stuff, y’all know what I mean, is in effect.

I went to work today casually dressed in cutoffs and a (clean) old t-shirt from the Invasion Days emblazoned with “f**k aliens? Never!” , just as a joke for Number 6, my new boss, a delicious  alien “Queen Bee “ boss-lady. I want to get on her good side, for professional and personal reasons, so I knew she would like my dishabille. And the ridiculous Opposition sentiment on my chest.  I hear the Opposition is gonna run a series of ads  on Fox News with a sanitized version of this regrettable  human attitude. God bless freedom of speech. I prefer alien telepathy.  Ain’ t no foolish question of freedom there!

Number 6 winked at me when I came in the door of the office , pulling my clothes hastily back on after going through the Full body scan , which is a modified , more fun version of the shit at the airports before the invasion.  Her physiognomy shifted pleasantly from moment to moment, offering me about 7 images per minute of her human feminine form, all of them made to order from my subconscious. We finally settled on my recent favorite, Catholicky kinda school-girly with black skirt, white shirt, knee socks a bit loose (so she has to pull them up surreptitiously), pencil behind her ear, wide trusting   eyes easily hurt, savage logic in her pretty little head but a bit socially retarded…

She came up to me and said, “Mr. Emmerling, have you done the 55-oh-,uh, what was it?...uh, sevens, I requested yesterday?” She put her hand on her hip and stuck a nude knee into my seated face.

“Did, and done, boss lady. I worked all night on them,’’ I said, truthfully.

“Excellent! Shit, really?” She put on her cute little glasses to look at my Tablet,,,handed to her by me with a slight flickery rub of fingers, very discreet.

“Yeah, of course. Anything for the company!” I added facetiously. All human institutions except Government had been co-opted by the Aliens. The economy was reaching full strength finally, especially with the creative impetus given to Hollywood, and the solar and hybrid and nuclear-clean and porn and pharmaceutical and especially medical industries completely revamped with miraculous tech, despite the Government’s stubborn endless debates and pseudo-crises –of –conscience and just plain stupidity in implementing these peoples’, I mean this species’, helpful improvements.

“Shush. You are bad, “ she said. “Okey dokey, just do the 55 oh eights today, then, and , uh, bring them into my office when you’re done. There are some suggestions from higher-up that I need your smart homo ess head to analyze.”  She pulled up a sock gracefully, then morphed into an, oh, how should I say it, kinda ..um…well, dignified businesswoman in suit and tie and..oh, forget it. This is my trip…

…………………………………………………………………

I worked on the 55 oh eights until the bomb in Jacob, my co-worker’s, briefcase exploded and the physical environment turned terribly unpleasant.  I don’t know why these stupid Oppositon people do this kinda destructive pointless shit. All our soul energy was saved and restored to our bodies after the area was cleared . So Jacob got to sit there feeling a-ok, body-wise at least, and wait for the (human) cops to come get him. All the rest of us were sent home with a day of overtime pay, to our various tech-luxurious places of residence.

Damn it!  I was gonna really get Number  6 giggling during her requested meeting, re. the 55 oh eights. Now it would have to wait for tomorrow.  Or maybe Monday. The Aliens might close the office tomorrow ,  out of respect for our trauma of being blown to shit  & back.