Alien

For the month of April, I am participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge. Last year, to make the challenge a little more–um–challenging, I wrote a letter-themed story every Monday. I’ve decided to do the same this year but, I’m going to stick to a 500 word maximum for each story (yes, unlike last year, when I say Flash Fiction, I mean Flash Fiction!). So, here’s the first story for year’s challenge:

ALIEN

The man behind the desk stared at Anthony. His brow creased, his eyes moved slowly, analyzing every facial tick, every nervous glance, each drop of sweat. Watching; observing; mentally cataloging.

Anthony tried to appear calm. He kept his clammy hands folded together in his lap, out of his inquisitor’s field of vision. The silence seemed to drag. Did he have something on his face? Was the man behind the desk using body language Anthony didn’t know? Or maybe he forgot how to speak. Or maybe he was speaking very quietly, and Anthony couldn’t hear. Maybe those silent words, those gestures, were supposed to tell Anthony what to do, what to say. But Anthony didn’t understand, and that would mean failure. He could feel the sweat on his neck.

“So, Mr. Anderson,” the man said without relaxing his eyes, or changing his posture, “I see from your file you passed the first phase, and scored reasonably well.” He didn’t look at the file open on his desk; he held Anthony’s eyes in his visual tractor beam. Anthony tried a smile. It wasn’t working so he stopped.

“And now the Final Test.”

Anthony swallowed.

“Are you prepared for the Final Test, Mr. Anderson?”

The man’s tone wasn’t clear. Anthony had studied, so, yes, he was prepared. But maybe he wasn’t supposed to say yes. Maybe that was the wrong answer. The man’s right eye twitched slightly. A sign? A hint?

“Um… yes,” said Anthony.

“Are you sure?” said the man.

A smile. Kind? Malicious? Goading? Pitying? Mocking?

“Well… that is to say…”

“Did you want a moment to relax before we begin, Mr. Anderson. You do look a little… nervous.”

The man’s eyes were still locked on Anthony. For the last five minutes he hadn’t even blinked. Anthony realized he was rubbing his hands together. He stopped. His foot started shaking.

“I’m–I’m fine, really,” Anthony said.

“In that case,” said the man, shifting back in his chair and picking up a piece of paper from his desk, still watching Anthony, “we’ll begin.”

Anthony took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and thought happy thoughts. Home. His wife preparing his favorite meal. The dog snuggling next to his feet while he watches “NCIS” on television…

“Mr. Anderson?”

Anthony smiled. It was almost genuine.

“Sorry, I’m ready.”

The man glanced down at the sheet of paper in his hand.

“Mr. Anderson, please name the three branches of government.”

Do you get it? If not… here’s a big clue.