The Alien Way of Life - English Version

10. Dessert

Earth, New York, 05.11.2059

"Save, my friend."

This sentence kept replaying in her head as she got ready for bed. "Save my friend" - after that, they hugged.

Mika seemed both taken aback and very pleasantly surprised by this directness.

And that was just the beginning of a very memorable conversation that she was just thinking back on.

"Save my friend."

Lyra grinned as she brought the empty ice cream cups into the kitchen. She passed by her parents' bedroom and heard them enjoying the dinner very intensively. The intensity of the conversation with Mika was different, but no less significant. She was not only happy not to feel insecure after a conversation with someone her own age for once. But also about the joint plans they were making. She thought back to the middle part of the conversation during the main course.

Mika had asked after undoing her tight braid:
"I still can't quite understand why the police didn't help you... there have been so many reforms in recent decades to sensitize the police to racism."

Lyra understood this question very well, despite her low expectations of this profession, she was also astonished by this failure. But she already had an answer. "Yes, but despite all the reforms, the police structure still attracts people who are fascinated by power and control. And precisely these people are susceptible to anti-alien delusions... which we fear will explode in the coming months."

Mika choked and managed to cough out the next question: "Why explode?"

Lyra handed her a napkin and answered: "because soon the hot phase of the US presidential primaries will begin and all our analyses suggest that anti-alien sentiment will play a significant role. The campaigns are already in preparation, it's just unclear what forms will prevail. Depending on the outcome, it is possible that from January 2061, we will be living in the White House with something between moderately ignorant and fascist-militaristic."

Mika looked at her in shock.
"And yet you're here?"

Lyra shook her head. "No, no, exactly for that reason... Ishikawa and many other high-ranking officials of the AWAL are very concerned that one of the most powerful countries in the world will fall into fascist hands, which may also question the Treaty of Roswell - and they believe that my father is the right person to possibly counteract this trend as an ambassador - and Esary also has a lot to do in this context."

Mika was curious. "... And what to do?"

Lyra glanced briefly into the air and then back to her new friend. "I often wonder about that too... my parents are very secretive about their work, but I would like to help."

She thought about whether she should say the next sentence: "The thing is, I think they wish we had stayed in Leipzig."

Mika nodded understandingly. "So why don't they enforce that then?"

Lyra explained, "We have informed them that we want to go with and presented a logical argumentation for it - in Tarumanian culture, it is unusual to order or even persuade another person in this context. We believe that whoever consciously decides on a strategy also has the right to learn from mistakes or even failure when necessary."

While Lyra went into the kitchen to prepare dessert, Mika digested the main course and the sociological input.
She wondered what she should think of the concept. On the one hand, it was certainly difficult for Lyra's parents to see their children facing the risks of this hostile environment. On the other hand, this philosophy might also be relieving because it absolves oneself of the responsibility of making a decision for someone else.

Lyra came out of the kitchen with two hefty cups of chocolate ice cream with whipped cream, waffle, and sprinkles. For dessert, Mika brought up the next turn of the conversation: "You mentioned that you would like to help... I feel the same way, I would also like to do more against this shit."

Lyra let this information melt on her tongue and picked up the invisible ball: "So do we team up? Resistance against this madness?"

Mika nodded decisively. She found Lyra's directness very refreshing for constructive conversations.

"Okay, but what?"
Both thought of the two boys and the mysterious Ares. But they had missed them now without exchanging numbers. Damn.

Lyra looked at the posters from the Spanish Civil War hanging on her wall. They showed brave fighters standing up against fascism. The goal of the posters was to motivate other people to support the fight.

"I would say we can start with media work... and then we'll see," she suggested. Mika was very enthusiastic. They agreed on a date to think about their media project with open minds.

Now Mika had left and Lyra was done in the kitchen, she went into the well-heated southern part, which included a common living room, as well as Ségouin's and her own rooms. From Ségouin's room, you could hear that he had actually found friends to play with. She went to her room and lay down exhausted.

Her gaze went to one of the fighters from Barcelona. Dressed in uniform with a rifle on her back, she looked determined. She looked into the eyes of the fighter. She must have been scared too. But even greater was the burning desire, first to liberate Barcelona and then the whole of Spain from Franco's clutches.

She knew the enemy was out there. A dangerous enemy. But still just a human being. And that made him vulnerable too.

Esary had told her about Hannah Arendt. In 1961, she followed the trial in Jerusalem against one of the top officials of the Holocaust, a certain Adolf Eichmann. This Eichmann was not a drooling monster, but a crumpled little man who begged for the mercy of the President of Israel in the end. Arendt had coined the term "banality of evil."

For Lyra, this term was not a relativization of the danger posed by such people. On the contrary, the image of the "banality of evil" showed on the one hand that the machinery of fascism does not need monsters as cogs to function - but on the other hand also that this machinery was not invulnerable.

Lyra nodded to the young fighter. She had fought her battles. Lyra's were just beginning.