Lucid Waking

The Habitation Project

            She closed the door to the sound proof room and flipped on the tape recorder. There was a couple of tests where the voices were indecipherable and she sat down and flipped to a clean page in her notebook.
            “This is test number 124, subject, male, is Jeff McCarthy, id 4-6-3-8-2 on June 13, 2332 at 8:46:32 in the morning in test room 17. The subject has taken no drugs or food in the last twenty-four hours and has thirteen 8-ounce glasses of water to drink. He is here of his free will and is sitting unaccompanied in the chair across from the mediator on the left. Shall we begin?” a page flapped loudly in the microphone.
            There was silence before the mediator spoke again. “Remember, as this is recorded you will have to speak all of your answers.”
            “Yes,” the man said. He had a clear voice and she guessed that he was either in his teens or early twenties. Oh, shoot she thought, running her finger down the page thoughtfully Tammy didn’t mention his age.
            “What do you know of the Habitation Project?”
            “Well, hmmm,” his voice trailed off into a short period of silence, “I know that they’ve started researching people from different planets and solar systems to figure out psychological differences and similarities between species. At least, that’s what they say. It seems to be a research project to get to know aliens and figure out through matching which environment would be best for humans and moving alien populations around to different planets where each one has the best chance for survival. The only problem is that Earth is the only place that’s been messed up enough to make a difference like that. If an alien species lives on Venus, let’s say, just because they could now live on Earth, doesn’t mean we could live on Venus. If we could live on Mars, does that mean Martians can live on Earth like this? Right now, it is just in its preliminary stages and all that’s been happening is interviews and charting the information they get. It’s not a threat, yet.”
            “Yet?”
            “I don’t think that’s part of the procedure,” he said a little too slyly with a hint of boisterous pleasure.
            The mediator cleared her throat. “Why did you volunteer to be part of this project?”
            He chuckled. “Because I’m the species of alien that you haven’t figured out yet. It might take you decades to figure out what we really are. What do you think I am?”
            “Um, sir, I can’t answer—your not staying in procedure guidelines. I just ask that you answer the question.”
            “Alright.”
            There was a pause, presumably for Tammy to figure out he had answered it before she continued. “What species to you represent.”
            He made a noise that sounded between a snort and a chuckle. “Well fine, I’m a Maneyeostis.”
            She paused the tape and wrote down furiously trying as hard as she could to remember his answer to the second question. And what did he mean by ‘it’s not a threat…yet? she thought frantically writing down notes in her chicken scratch handwriting. She pressed play after shaking out her hand and placed her pen poised down.
            “What is Maneye like?”
            “It’s green. In fact most of the plants use oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrogen for their photosynthetic activities. They have three different types of chloroplasts so you may see a plant with more blue or more yellow leaves because of a majority of either type. In fact, the people all have three different lungs to breath in either one of the three gases. Simply put, the green chloroplasts use oxygen to create sugar and expel hydrogen. The yellow chloroplasts use hydrogen to create sugar and expel nitrogen. The blue ones use nitrogen and expel oxygen. The plants are entirely self-sufficient. The catch is that they don’t use all of the gases they expel and the people use each of them to create energy,” he paused and said exasperatedly, “just work with me here!”
            She paused debating to put down his age as seventeen, but stopped as he continued. “Their bodies can’t take all of it at one time so they have a system in their bodies, don’t ask me how it works I’m not a scientist, that splits up each of the gases and uses it like the plants, where they can be self sufficient. They expel carbon monoxide, ammonia, or water, which is taken by these odd fungus-like colonies that you occasionally see from time to time—“
            She stopped the tape and grabbed it out of the recorder as she rushed out the door. She ran down the corridor and into the medical room.
            “Run a couple of tests on subject 846382, Jeff McCarthy.”
            The medic ran over to her, and lowered both eyebrows puzzled.
            “We need to see if he has three lungs or not, because I don’t think he is what he says he is.”
            The medic nodded and punched the id number into a computer.
            “Any other tests?”
           “And a blood test to see if his DNA bases match with a typical Maneyeosis DNA.”
           “How about an RNA test?”
           “Fine,” she said hurriedly, “call me if anything comes up.”
           She rushed down the corridor into the record lab and carefully put the tape away, making sure that the vault door closed behind her and it was thoroughly locked. She ran her notes into the chute to the commanding scientist behind the project, quickly scribbling notes on the tests she ordered. I really hope he asks me why I did this; I have to talk to him, she thought as rushed back down the corridor to the medical room.

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