Diary of a Xude, Home is where the Xude is

Dear Very Important Friend and Diary,

I have come to realize that my new residence is less temporary.

No destruction or cultivation or harvesting has begun.

The Vessels that do these things have not even arrived.

Neither have the observers of harvesting.

These are much like tourists for demolition. They come to watch extractions. I do not understand this behavior, but as a Xude, I have come to accept that I understand very little.

I ask mostly questions.

I make copious observations.

This is my nature.

I am Xude.

So there has been no change in my chances of finding a ride.

Taking Blue Marble with me might have been much to ask for as well.

Maybe I have been overwhelmed by the nature of the human WOACA suit.

Hope seems to be a side effect.

As is sneezing.

Sneezing actually feels really great if you do it correctly, which I try to do every time.

It is exhilarating.

Gary does not seem to not not like my presence.

He seems to like like it.

He even makes me the beverage coffee in the morning.

He watches me when I am out in the field at night.

I have told him I am watching for shooting stars.

This is true to some degree.

Humans believe these are icy rocks burning as they enter the atmosphere. They sometimes make believe that the rocks are something divine and make wishes upon them.

I am looking for space tracks.

They are more like the tread marks teenagers leave.

The Space Tourists sometimes enjoy what Gary calls a "hoot and a holler" and leave space tracks behind them—glittering trails that are very pretty and cause humans to stop and look upward. Gary would say, “gawk.”

The humans do not know what they are looking at.

This is apparently great fun for the Space Tourists.

I considered calling them Looky Louies, as Gary would, but they are in fact Space Tourists.

And the harvesting of Earth has likely reached many of them.

Why are they not here then?

I received several final announcements.

Each was worded more and more clearly.

Then less clearly.

Then emphatically.

Then acutely.

Over and over again.

I should cancel my angry yet honest transmission in case they have reconsidered.

Why would they reconsider?

What if they receive the transmission I sent and it causes them to reconsider?

The WOACA suit itches.

I need to take a bath and let her rest in the steam.

I should also open my transmitter-receiver device.

I can do this in the bath.

Gary brought me scented salts.

They are exquisite and come from another part of the globe called the Himalayas.

He seems to think I am from that region.

He knows I am an Immigrant.

How funny!

I am so successful at integration that I am now considered an Immigrant by Gary, employable by a retail outlet and two online companies, and scheduled to be harvested along with the planet come Destruction Day.

This is either what Gary calls my dark humor—

or my Iron Knee.

I am still learning the difference.

Xude