The Freshfields Invasion by Thien Valdram

The Freshfields Invasion
by Thien Valdram

Xana sighed as she held in the key that closed Freshfields’ wide shuttered front doors. Of course she’d been left to lock up; one of the managers couldn’t possibly! Instead they went home and made her stay the extra hour as overtime. It wasn’t even supposed to be part of her job; this had nothing to do with the bakery — But of course, she couldn’t refuse a manager’s request: it would reflect badly on her SPIMS score. The stupid program didn’t understand common decency. If you’re asked to do something, it expected you to do it.
Xana clicked the lock shut. Whatever, she thought, It’s over now, and I don’t have a shift tomorrow. Finally, I can have a break.
She turned to set off home, only to find herself face-to-face with a small scruffy little man with a notepad in hand. 
“Are you in charge here?” he asked.
“I… work here, but I’m off shift and the place’s been closed for hours.” Xana tried to muster up some degree of cheeriness, but even on a good day that was a struggle for her, let alone when she was tired, annoyed and just wanted to fall asleep on her mattress.
“Oh that’s fine, I just wanted to ask you some questions is all. About the disappearances?”
“Who are you?” Xana pressed.
The man ran a hand through his hair. “Lewis, Lewis Harper, I’m a reporter for… well it doesn’t matter who for. I just want to know about the disappearances.”
Xana sighed. “Nothing to do with us. At least, nothing I’m aware of.”
“Oh come on, you really don’t see what’s happening here? This isn’t the first time you know: in 1991 the military cordoned off the St. Nicholas Shopping Centre after some people went missing. It went all the way up to Geneva, I think. The same thing happened at Bentall Centre in August 2006, covered up by the Home Office. And now here… people are disappearing — it's happening again. You think that’s all coincidence?”
“You’re crazy is what I think,” Xana snapped back. “Look, it’s late. I’m tired, and I just want to go home. Talk to the manager in the morning like a normal person.”
Harper gasped. “Oh my God, you’re in on it! You and the other employees. You’re the one’s doing it aren’t you?” Harper pulled out his phone and took a photo. “Don’t lie to me… You did this, didn’t you? You killed them…”
Xana clutched her head.
 
“You killed her? Xanara, you’re a monster!”


“Xanara Pasam, Halshai, wanted across the galaxy for the senseless murder of the beloved Queen Alarna.”
 
“Don’t you care about the deaths you’ve caused?”
 
“GalPol should have disintegrated you years ago. Maybe if they had, Kavarn would have stopped the killing.”
 
“Just shut up!” She banged her hand against her waist in frustration. “Leave me alone! Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
The reporter stepped back in shock. It took Xana a moment to realise why. She looked down and saw her four purple hands…
Her holo-projector, she’d damaged it.
“Y— you’re… alien,” Harper stuttered. “There were monsters at the other sites, too — shadows and claws and… did you eat them?”
Xana threw her head back in offence. “What? No! I—it’s not like that…” she pleaded. “We help. We’re here to help…”
Harper wasn’t listening to her; he was backing away. He raised his phone to get a photo, and Xana knew she couldn’t allow that. She snatched it, and Harper bolted in terror.
And Xana sank to her knees in shame. It had been her fault…
 
She’d not gotten back to Charles’ house until almost one the next morning. Charles was sound asleep and so Xana flopped onto her bed and began to sob.
It was two days later that she had her next shift, and by then the encounter had faded to the back of her mind. Charles had helped her to repair the holo-projector in the morning. Apparently the wiring had been faulty for a while, and it was lucky it hadn’t failed beforehand. That had naturally worried Xana, but Charles had ensured the fix would last this time.
And it was on her first shift back, right after she got back from her break, that she found Lewis Harper standing at the counter. “You.” He stabbed a finger at her like she was Frankenstein’s monster.
“Can I help you, sir?” It took great effort to put on as much of a customer service voice as she could muster. She’d started to get the hang of it, but it still made her feel miserable; that fake chirpy upbeat voice — she wondered how Habib managed it.
“Don’t play dumb, monster. I know what you are… You’re an alien, who’s been killing people.” Harper started to yell. 
A couple customers turned to look. 
“Please, sir, you’re making a scene.” Xana impressed herself by how calm she had remained.
“Don’t think you can get away with this…”
Xana sighed, then, as passive aggressively as she could get away with, she explained, “When you saw me last it was late, and you were clearly tired, are you sure it wasn’t just a trick of the evening light?”
“Don’t you dare…” Harper wobbled irately. “I demand to speak to a manager!”
“Very well,” Xana continued, gesturing outwards with her hand. “Through the door at the end.”
Harper glared at her. “If you try to make me disappear I’ll—I’ll scream my head off. Got that?” His nostrils flared. “Don’t think you’ll get away with it so easily.”
Nonetheless, he headed for the door as beckoned.
All of a sudden, she noticed Habib at her side. He elbowed her lightly. “Wheat was his deal?”
Xana glared at him, annoyed. Taking control of her emotions once more, she sighed. “He saw me the other night when I was locking up,” she explained, casually. “Started asking about some supermarket disappearance conspiracy. Then… I don’t know — he freaked out or something.”
“Aw, shame, you’d make a pretty cool alien,” Habib laughed. Xana stared at him incredulously, and he held up his hands. “I meant it as a compliment!”
“I should really go get a manager…” said Xana. 
Habib nodded his agreement. “Of course, I’ll cover for you.”

> report: loading
> report begins
> Subject one, Disruptive Customer (designation: Lewis Harper)
> Subject one has been reliably identified as a disruptive influence towards the Freshfields Grocery Store, having come into the store on three separate occasions to complain about seeing aliens.
> This could be due to a recent science fiction obsession, an undiagnosed medical condition or he could be performing some kind of joke at the expense of the store.
> No matter the cause, however, it has resulted in a decrease in the SPIMS performance of subject two (designation: Xana) and thus is detrimental to the safe and effective running of the store environment.
> Subject one is to be deactivated at the earliest possible convenience.
 
“No one came in…” explained Gary Wheeler, the store manager, as he passed by the bakery later that day. 
“Oh…” Xana called over to her colleague, “Habib, the mad guy from earlier didn’t come by again, did he?”
“Not that I saw, why?”
“Just, he’s gone,” Xana explained.
Gary said, “Hopefully whatever he nonsense he was babbling about, he’s come to his senses and decided to stop wasting our time.” He laughed. “Aliens, really… some people these days, see a couple of videos on Youtube, and get it into their heads that everyone and their mother’s an alien.”
Xana shrugged non-committally, whilst inwardly dancing with joy that her cover hadn’t been blown.
“Anyway,” Gary continued. “If they show up again, let Jae-Sun or Steve know. It’s their job to keep crazies like that out.”
Xana nodded, smiling widely as she returned to her baking.

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