Anita 3

What happens next causes me to even doubt my own sanity. See on our planet we are 100% Atheist, which explains why so many flop miserably on that religion term paper in Earthlingology 101. We are taught death is the complete end of everything, including all brainwave activity, and hence dreams too.
So when in a state of death, to dream of being an Earthling, is a bit wierd. Switching back to reason, I tell myself maybe the medics arrived in time to staunch blood flow. Again, not rational to believe that.
Those escalators are building wide, some 300 rioters and 200 cops were involved. So, 500 people, all toting clips of 500 rounds. Do the geometry, with 250,000 rounds bouncing off concrete walls, statistically you'd be dead a dozen times over.
So, how is it I hear a panicky voice, "over here Sarge, bring the coagulant, got a maybe."?
I feel pressure of hands on my chest.
Older voice, cursing methodically, "well **** this noise. Body's ****ing rejecting the ****ing coagulant."
Younger voice again, "try another shot."
"Ok sunshine, higher ****ing dose, see if it ****ing works. Ain't nobody else ****ing left alive, and that's ****ing rioters and ****ing cops included. Pull this one through, chances are we get a ****ing medal."
As their voices fade, I realize I didn't make it.
Again, not logical. So how is it I feel stiff and sore from lying down forever? The dead should not feel that, right?
And so, I open my eyes just to check. Now this room has a definite Earthling look to it. I'm guessing a young girl Earthling, an adult would barf seeing this mess.
I see the reflection in the mirror. No, definitely not. See we're all purple. You start life a light lilac pastel, darken as you age; faster if working outdoors, slower if inside. No racial problems, we're all the same color.
And yet this ridiculous figure seems to follow my movements. Earthlings would class this person as 'white', but it ain't true, it's more pink.
And on the bedside table, a hand drawn getwell card, with stylized flowers and handwriting which screams out immature Earthling hand. Curiously, I can read it, "Anita, please get well in a hurry. School is a total drag without you, Lily."
Just a minute now, what are odds of that, same name? I pick up a textbook, open it. The form pasted therein proclaims that the Greater Victoria School District has loaned this to Anita Zilberg.
Freaky or what? Same as my surname.
Gradually though I start to see Earthling logic in it all, being considerably less ethnocentric than most of my people.
We are Atheists, translation there is no god or gods who looks after us.
But assuming this Earthling belongs to one of their superstitions, the god or gods involved have a proprietorial sense, look after their own, at least some.
So, possible this one died through fever. As mercy to the family of this one, the Earthling god or gods simply stuck me into the body.
I find myself wanting to meet this Lily. Something in the handwriting proclaims her to be a warm person. But definitely not now, too tired, lay down again.
As I awake I feel better, clear headed. An older woman (mother?) shows, brings water, then some light food.
Finally Lily is permitted in, but only for a few minutes, I must rest.
As mother (?) leaves, Lily says quietly, "wierd dreams huh?"
"Yeah, understatement of the year."
"I sat with you a bit. Wondered where you got all that crap. No metro here, much less metro stations with escalators hundreds of feet wide. No riot cops here, much less ones toting Schmeissers. No rioters either, much less those with AK47s." Suspicious look, "I've got it. You're a fraud, a liar. Tell me you don't read sci fi, when secretly you do."
I protest mildly, "certainly not."
She opens all my dresser drawers, "nope, none in here, musta already returned it to the library."
Inspiration strikes, "Lily, what is my reputation at school?"
She blushes, "sorry Anita. Yes I know you 'borrowed' some of my older sister's book reports."
"So we can still be friends Lily?"
Easy laugh, "heavens yes. Now I know you're not guilty."
"So what's happening at school."
"I'm in deep sh**. Been cruising so long watching your math book I look really dumb now. Oh well, your Mum says you'll be ready for Monday."
And then Lily is chased away. As I lay back, I find myself liking her, she'll be a great friend over time.
Mum re-enters, grim look, "no easy way to say this, but it hasta be said before Monday. For several years now, teachers at James Bay Elementary have been scanning book reports into computer memory."
I groan inwardly.
"When they ran the matching program, it caught you with six. So what do you say about that?"
"Ah well that is ah well, I won't do it again."
"And to help you remember your promise not to re-sin, no allowance for a month. Here on in, any book reports, show me before you hand them in."
I nod.
She leaves. Oy! Still, give the devil her due. On my planet it woulda been lots bigger ructions than that for that same sin. So, least we know she's a merciful person. Maybe she'll be ok.
Lily drops by Monday morning to get me. Once we're out the door, I ask, "ah Lily, ever hear of the matching program on book reports? Nailed me with six."
Laugh, "go on, what a wimp you are! Nailed me with 15."
I gasp.
She punches my arm, lightly in fun, "so lemme guess, allowance is kaput for a month?"
"How'd you know?"
"Math, mine is down the toilet for three months."
Somehow it seems wildly hilarious and we laugh all the way to school.