Open and Roaming
- Reads 162
- Votes 4
- Parts 1
Complete Tue, Jan 29, 201323m
...We are called open and roaming students. Location: Brooklyn, New York. 1970s. I was eight years old when my school bus was attacked...I remember there were about 10 to 15 boys that surrounded bus number 728. Glass flying everywhere. Ducking for safety hoping to find my brother there but with dismay couldn't be found.Things like “moulie,” “spear chucker,” and “niggers” were screamed in hatred. Then fire engulfed us. My name is Michelle. I didn't know i was a "token."
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I wasn't special, I wasn't a marine or a scientist sent here from earth to study Pandora, I was a behaviorist-some say behaviorists are scientists too; but the brain isn't made up of mathematics and hope, it's like the roots of trees. Forever speaking but unheard. I study people's brains and their behavior. I don't look at it with hope and faith. I'm nothing special, not really. When I was accepted to help with Project Pandora, I was exhilarated. This was my big break, something to get me out there. I never expected for it to spiral into my life unprofessionally-become personal, emotional. That I would have to fight in a war between man and alien, choose between my own people and a clan of beings that accepted me-welcomed me, trained and made me one of them. This wasn't supposed to become personal, but it did.
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