I cried for all that I never had on Earth and for the misery of leaving it for the unknown.

We “volunteered,” you see, which meant that a group of quasi-military men busted into my house three nights ago, woke me up with their guns pointed at my head, and then had a grubby doctor insert an alien tracking device in my arm and tattoo my face with an alien sign on my left cheek. Both hurt like a mother fucker. But what could I do? I could do nothing. I never signed up to be a volunteer. But as the police condescendingly told me when I tried to report it, I had no proof that I didn’t sign up.

So, I had 48 hours to say my ‘goodbyes’ to Earth, humanity, and a few friends.

My last hours consisted of drinking and crying. I drank so much that I thought tequila might do me in. But I didn’t die. I was right where I was supposed to be when the AI arrived from the alien planet in a spaceship to take us back from where it had come.

As volunteers, we were lined up in the cold outside on the airstrip. We were stripped of our clothing and stood there naked and shivering before our families and friends before we were made to wear matching purple tunics and trousers. We were also given purple veils, which most of us originally tied around our necks because we assumed they were scarves. Then the AI rudely pushed us onto a starship as they let all our other belongings drift in the wind and scatter on the runway.

That was hours or days ago. I don’t even know. I think there’s something in this cargo hold that keeps us halfway unconscious. Whenever I wake up, I’m not awake for long.

There are just blankets on the cold floor and a simple toilet for us all to share in the corner. The only water is in strange bags, and we’re told food will be given to us when we need it, although, as far as I know, no one has asked for or received food.

* * *

I think I slept an entire day or maybe two, only waking up in bouts to drink water out of the strange bags. Not surprisingly, the women around me are somber now, resolute, like me. I can only hear the occasional whisper telling someone to move a foot or an arm as we are all on top of one another in the cargo hold. None of us have words for the situation we find ourselves in now. It’s too terrible to think about and too awful to even hypothesize what will happen. This is what real fear looks like. I close my eyes again, even though I don’t think I’m tired.

Plain and tasteless food is served to us in bowls by an AI. I eat it with my hands because I’m hungry, and we aren’t given utensils. All I can think is that this doesn’t bode well for our new alien hosts. None of this does.