by Bernardo Fernández
Translated from the Spanish by Adan Jimenez
Anyone who thinks extraterrestrials don’t exist is an idiot.
“Of course, there’s a possibility that life on other planets exists. No one would argue that, but to go from there to saying they’ve visited us is a huge quantum leap,” is what the nonbelievers say, with that obnoxious know-it-all tone that says you’re the ignorant one. What do those idiots know?
I’ve seen them.
And I don’t just mean UFOs shaped like cigars or metallic spheres floating over remote forests. I mean they’re among us, walking along Insurgentes, lining up to buy metro tickets, and eating hot dogs outside of the Sonora cinema.
It’s not easy to differentiate them from us. To the untrained eye, they’re identical to humans because of their sophisticated biomimicry technology. In fact, a cold sparkle in their eyes is the only thing that gives them away. It’s a cruel flash they can’t hide, even with sunglasses.
You have to be careful, though, because vampires have similar eyes and it’s easy to confuse them. That’s why it’s best to hunt extraterrestrials during the day. Less problems that way.
Plus, driving a stake through an extraterrestrial’s heart would only infuriate them. They wouldn’t even feel a tickle. Remember, their internal organs are different from ours.
I have proof that the non-believers are paid by the government to disseminate the idea that there are no aliens on Earth among the population. Thanks to a good source, I know that many of them, especially journalists, collect monthly checks from the Ministry of the Interior. Is there any stronger evidence than that? (A colleague who works as a janitor in a newspaper and whose identity I will not reveal gave me this information.)
But I have much more proof of this journalists’ conspiracy to cover up this silent invasion:
1957: A UFO wave washes over Mexico City. The authorities ignore citizens reporting ships over the capital. Incidentally, the great tremor that brings down the statue of the Ángel de la Independencia coincides with an ovoid ship appearing over the neighborhood of Peralvillo. The newspapers are silent.
1963: The day before Gustavo Díaz Ordaz is announced as a presidential candidate, a dark-colored cylindrical figure is seen floating over the premises of the Excelsior newspaper. Coincidence?
1970: During the World Cup final between Brazil and Italy, a trio of silver discs pass leisurely over the northern part of the city. Only a housewife thinks to look to the sky. Her report falls on deaf ears. Was it an experiment by the media to see how far alien operations could go with the help of mass ignorance?
Did you think that was all? There’s a lot more.
1978: An alien ship crashes in the mountains of Puebla. Hundreds report the existence of surviving aliens. They even learn to play football to hide their evil plans from the inhabitants (they are terrible foulers). Two journalists – oh, a coincidence – go to the remote crash site only to come back down with a piece of molten metal they pass off as the remains of a Russian satellite. Case closed.
1982: An unidentified flying object passes over the Palacio de Bellas Artes. The peso is devalued the next day. The newspapers only cover the second story.
We’ve only discussed sightings so far, and none of their actual actions. Prepare to be surprised.
1984: Manuel Buendía is assassinated. The reason? He had proof of the alien conspiracy that he was willing to publish. Someone sees a small, wide-eyed alien with a smoking gun in his hands a few blocks from the dead body. Nobody takes the report seriously because the witness is an eccentric beggar from the Zona Rosa.
1985: Dozens of buildings collapse due to the Mexico City earthquake. In the rubble of the Hotel Regis (specifically in what was left of La Taberna del Greco), extraterrestrial corpses are found alongside human ones (you know, short stature, big eyes). The army recovers the bodies and makes them disappear. To this day, it is rumored the bodies are kept in the facilities beneath Campo Marte (more coincidence).
1986: During the World Cup, a group of presumed English hooligans are detained for causing a disturbance during their team’s first game. The press is silent about the matter as they’re released a few hours after being apprehended. The hooligans were actually aliens testing their biomimetic suit prototypes. The experiment is considered a success.
From that moment, they took to the streets disguised as us. They infiltrated every sector of society: band kids, masons, professionals, leftist militants, bishops, cheerleaders, hostesses, trapeze artists, artisans… There was nowhere they didn’t invade.
They eat, sleep, read, copulate, serve coffee, play poker, cut their hair, buy lottery tickets, and sell stuffed animals for three biweekly payments right in front of us. Many times, with us.
They’ve been observing us from within since the eighties, waiting for the right moment to take complete power. They already control our means of communication. All that’s left is a final push. This threat is not to the high echelons of military power, which are already allied with the extraterrestrials. The government is just a screen. But there is still more to go.
1988: President-elect Salinas discovers the plot. He attempts to fight them, but they plant an alien disguised as a French adviser to watch and control him. It’s because of this that he falls from grace when he finishes his term. A whole media campaign is orchestrated against Salinas by, you guessed it, journalists.
1994: Presidential candidate Luis Donaldo Colosio discovers the plot in time. He sends a clone to Lomas Taurinas, who dies at the hands of an alien gunman. The candidate crosses the border into San Diego and flees to northern Canada, where he continues to hide.
There is enough evidence to prove the hidden invasion. The press and military, aliens and humans, are all part of it. This conspiracy can still be stopped by the free brave men of conscience left on the planet. The conspirators cannot take our will. There is still time to fight.
The next part is a guide to distinguish aliens from humans (as long as it’s daytime), as well as how to eliminate them.
#
“I’ve read enough,” the general said, furiously crumpling the mimeographed pamphlet in his hands. “Where did you say you got this?”
“I was on Calle Uruguay, on the way to the Eje Central. The guy distributing these was a ragged old man,” the reporter replied when he noticed everyone looking at him. The Campo Marte sublevels always made him nervous.
“Was he tall or short?” a colonel asked.
“Quite tall, dark skinned, with a long beard.”
“Bloody hell.” The general slammed the table. “It has to be Cano. I thought we’d already killed him.”
“What I want to know is where he got all his information from,” the TV station owner said.
The metallic voice of the insectoid creature interjected, “Initiate his elimination immediately.”
The six humans sharing the meeting room with the alien turned to glance at it, perhaps looking for something that would reveal any semblance of emotion on their blue chitinous face, but the four compound eyes and the vibrating antennae betrayed no emotion. It was a mask incompatible with human body language.
“Immediately,” the alien repeated, this time without the synthesizer that converted their pheromonal language into sounds, giving their words zero intonation. They were different from the smaller big-eyed beings. Their rank was far higher.
The meeting was abruptly finished. They were ordered to execute Cano and his resistance group, investigate whoever printed the brochures, and find the leak. Everything in the pamphlet, every word, was true. But almost everyone felt calm. Who would believe a crazy beggar handing out flyers on the street?
Only the general was worried.
Not about Cano. Yes, he was intelligent and tenacious. He was an ex-university professor who had accidentally discovered the conspiracy. He’d slipped away a couple of times, but he was no hero. He was old. He would eventually fall.
No, what worried the general was: how had Cano discovered that piece of above top-secret information?
The existence of vampires was known only to a select few.
~
Bio:
Adan Jimenez is a writer, editor, and translator. He co-writes the children’s mystery series Sherlock Sam with his partner Felicia Low, which has been translated into Korean, Simplified Chinese, Arabic, and more. He is the proud son of Mexican immigrant parents and became an immigrant himself when he moved to Singapore. He loves comics, LEGO, books, games (analogue and video), science fiction, and food.
Philosophy Note:
This piece is mostly fictional non-fiction, weaving a sci-fi conspiracy theory with relatively recent Mexican history, in an effort to explain why Mexican politics are so terrible, with tongue firmly in cheek. An original translation of a short story by Mexican author Bernardo Fernández aka BEF, which has never been translated before and is collected in Escenarios para el fin del mundo: Relatos reunidos.
