"What am I looking at here?" the head scientist demanded, his gaze fixed on the scene before him.
"Sir, I can explain," said the man standing opposite, his white bob-cut hair catching the light.
"Will you shut up?" the scientist snapped. "Did I ask for an explanation? I asked what I am looking at. Which one is it—something that isn't what I think it is? And what exactly do you think I'm thinking?"
The scientist shook his head in disbelief as his eyes settled on the monstrosity before him. In front of him stood a goat—or at least, something resembling one. Its body was that of a goat, but it had a purple horn protruding from its head, dark skin on its hindquarters, and the unnerving sound of a chicken's cry escaping from its throat.
"Oh my God," the scientist exclaimed. "What is this abomination?"
"Sir, it's not what you think!" the man stammered.
"Shut up!" the scientist roared, grabbing the man by his collar. "How many times have you said that? This boy you will be the death of me, I swear. Were you not being supervised? Who allowed this?"
The man flinched, then mumbled, "I made a mistake. I accidentally poured chicken DNA into the goat's sample."
"You did what?" the scientist growled. "Don't make me slap you. Who labeled the bottles? Who arranged them?"
"It was a mix-up! I had no idea—"
"Enough!" The scientist's eyes blazed with anger as he glared at the creature. "Do you have any idea what you've done? This is an endangered species! What were you thinking?"
"Sir, we can explain to the board that it was just an accident—"
"Accident?" The scientist cut him off. "You are lucky this is a corporate organization and we are professionals; otherwise, I would have given you a dirty slap. An accident, you say? Go and tell that to the aliens next time. See how well that goes!"
The younger man stammered again, "Sir, I... I thought you always said scientists should strive for innovation. Maybe this isn't so bad—"
"Innovation?" The scientist's voice dripped with disdain. "Look at this thing. This is an abomination, not innovation!"
"But, sir," the younger man persisted, "you could show this to the higher-ups. They might understand. It's a breakthrough, in a way—"
"Breakthrough?" The scientist massaged his temples, struggling to keep his composure. "Just because I said to strive for innovation doesn't mean you should play God and create a monstrosity! You people never fail to amaze me—with your stupidity!"
He turned his back on the man, his patience at its end. "Clean up this mess. And pray I don't lose my mind dealing with you."
The younger man, still smiling nervously, replied, "Understood, sir. But… don't you think there's still potential here?"
The scientist let out a frustrated groan, muttering under his breath, "Nonsense."
Ben White walked back to his office, his head hanging low. He had just been berated by his superior, and the embarrassment was palpable. As he entered, the door left ajar, his colleagues leaned in, whispering and exchanging glances, clearly intrigued by the commotion.
Back at his desk, Ben sank into his chair, his face flushed with shame. Moments later, two colleagues approached him.
"I heard you messed up again," one of them said, barely masking his amusement.
"I feel bad for you, bro," the other chimed in. "You know how the aliens can be. Mess with their product, and they'll always come back for revenge. Look at Cassandra, for example."
Ben stiffened. Everyone remembered Cassandra. She had once made the mistake of tampering with a product meant for the aliens. It hadn't ended well.
"You saw what happened to her," the first colleague continued. "She injected acidity where it wasn't supposed to go. And when midnight struck, the aliens didn't waste any time. She was taken immediately. Efficient, huh?"
The memory of Cassandra's fate sent a chill down Ben's spine. He glanced nervously at the clock. Would he meet the same end? As more colleagues stopped by to offer their half-hearted condolences, Ben's anxiety grew. Consolation letters from management piled up on his desk.
Later that evening, Ben returned to his apartment. It was already late, and there was little he could do but wait. Sitting at his desk, he stared out the window, dreading the arrival of midnight.
The clock struck 12, and… nothing. For a moment, Ben allowed himself to breathe. But deep down, he knew it wasn't over. Humanity's survival had always been precarious, and the aliens—once their saviors—were not to be trifled with.
It was the year 2026, a time when the world was still reeling from massive change. Six years ago, the coronavirus pandemic had brought humanity to its knees, nearly wiping out the population. Just as all hope seemed lost, the aliens had intervened, offering a cure and saving the human race from extinction.
Their arrival confirmed humanity's long-standing theories about extraterrestrial life. The solar system, they explained, was a small, uncivilized corner of the galaxy left untouched for one reason: the unique conditions on Earth made it a breeding ground for deadly viruses. The aliens had been monitoring Earth for centuries, choosing to intervene only when necessary.
As Ben gazed out at the night sky, lost in thought, he noticed something strange. A meteor shower streaked across the heavens, painting the sky with brilliant red, green, and blue hues. But as he watched, his awe turned to dread. One of the meteors was veering off course—heading straight for him.
Heart pounding, Ben instinctively stepped back. The meteor crashed through the glass wall of his apartment, shattering it with a deafening roar. When the dust settled, Ben's eyes widened in horror.
Standing before him was a massive cow. Its head had pierced through the shattered glass, its enormous body still outside. The creature stared at him, unblinking.
"What is going on now?" Ben whispered, his voice trembling.