Page 66 of Technically Abducted
Finn
Three weeks.
Three weeks since I came back to my apartment with a container of alien gems and a hole in my chest where something vital used to be. Three weeks of going through the motions of my normal life while feeling like I'm watching someone else live it.
I've tried to get back into the routine. Responding to client emergencies, fixing systems, maintaining the carefully controlled chaos of my workspace. But everything feels muted, like I'm experiencing life through thick glass. Even my successes—and I've had some impressive ones, including completely rebuilding Rosa's entire network infrastructure—feel hollow.
The gems sit in their container on my desk, untouched. I can't bring myself to research their value or figure out how to sell them. They're beautiful, undeniably, but looking at them just reminds me of Tev'ra's reluctant expression when he handed them over.
My phone buzzes with another client call, but I let it go to voicemail. I'll call them back in a few minutes, fix whatever's broken, collect my fee, and continue existing in this gray limbo that's apparently my life now.
The knock on my door is unexpected. I don't get visitors. Ever. My social interactions are limited to phone calls with clients and the occasional text exchange with Alex. Physical proximity to other humans has never been something I seek out.
But when I check the security camera feed, it's Alex standing in my hallway, holding two cups of coffee and looking uncharacteristically serious.
I let him in, noting how strange it feels to have someone else in my space. Alex has been here maybe three times inthe years I've known him, always for work emergencies that required in-person collaboration.
"You look like shit," Alex says by way of greeting, handing me one of the coffee cups.
"Thanks, you too," I reply automatically, though it's not true. Alex looks fine—clean-shaven, well-rested, the picture of someone who has their life together.
"I'm serious, Finn. You've been weird since you got back from your mysterious family emergency." Alex settles into my one guest chair, looking around my apartment with the careful attention of someone conducting an assessment. "Want to tell me what's really going on?"
I take a sip of coffee and consider my options. I could lie, make up some story about family drama or personal issues. I could deflect with work talk or technical problems. I could shut down the conversation entirely and send Alex away.
Instead, I hear myself saying, "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
The words hang in the air between us. Alex's expression is patient but concerned, the look of someone who's genuinely worried about a friend's wellbeing. When was the last time someone looked at me like that? When was the last time someone cared enough to show up at my door with coffee and demand answers?
"I was kidnapped by a hot alien doing an assessment program," I say, aiming for a joking tone that doesn't quite land.
Alex laughs—a short, surprised sound. "Right. Okay, Finn, very funny. Come on, what's really—"
He stops mid-sentence. The laugh dies on his lips as he really looks at my face, sees that I'm not smiling, not setting up a punchline. His expression shifts from amused to confused to concerned.
"Wait," he says slowly. "You're... you're serious?"
"Completely serious."
"Finn." Alex sets his coffee cup down very carefully, like he's afraid sudden movements might break something. "Aliens aren't real. You know that, right?"
I just stare at him, letting the silence stretch until he starts to fidget.
"Okay, you're freaking me out now," Alex continues, his voice getting higher. "This is some kind of breakdown thing, right? You've been working too hard, not sleeping enough, and your brain is—"
"He was seven feet tall," I interrupt. "Blue skin that literally glowed when he was aroused or embarrassed. Golden eyes with vertical pupils. Gills at the base of his neck."
Alex goes very still. The color starts draining from his face.
"He lived on a research vessel in space. Could project any star pattern on the ceiling—Earth's sky, or his homeworld's with multiple moons."
"Stop," Alex whispers.
"His name was Tev'ra. We had this empathic connection where we could feel each other's emotions—"
"Finn, stop." Alex's hands are shaking now.
