Nobody unintentionally begins to hate another, unless, under the dire circumstance of social pressure in an attempt to save face, a person could, one assumes, speak words of hate against some silent, innocent individual, unprovoked. To do so, nevertheless, would be, in her mind, abhorrent, deserving of only hate in return. She flips to the next page in an old grade-school-type identification log full of pictures with corresponding names of people, human people, all of the same approximate age, that she would consider, immature, not adult. Adult versions of these human beings can be seen within the book, and so, this is how she knows, by comparison, that page after page of portrait-like photographs are younger, perhaps childish or adolescent versions of adult humans.
She stares at two side-by-side photos of two females; again, she assumes much. They look identical, she determines and then immediately notices that the names of the two females, while different in one respect, are exactly the same in another. She scans their faces and names for hours, obsessed, intrigued by their sameness, and yet, somehow, they are extremely different. All of the, what she now refers to as, “samesies” look basically the same in overall appearance. She decides that to spot out individuals within the group would be painfully difficult. Aside from the varied lengths of hair and sometimes, the physical build of each human, she admits that they are quite generic, fulfill a basic set of standards.
A gentle melody rings forth from the surrounding air around her within the space in which she sits and stares. Someone yells for her assistance. In response, she acknowledges the order and huffs in defiance. Slamming the book closed, she shoves it into the top drawer of the set of drawers beside her bed. Leaving her room, she feels a pull and a tug behind her left ear as the ear grows warm, then hot. Pinching the lobe with one of her hands, an unknown force twirls her around as she spins. Dizzy, she braces herself along the foot board of her bed frame. Once the world ceases to spin, she blinks and immediately screams in terror at the sight of two, identical humans, nearly her same age, standing there in front of her.
She shrieks as she falls back onto her bed, clambering to the other side away from the two aliens who appeared out of nowhere. “What do you want? Who are you?” she asks out of fear rather than curiosity. “We could ask you the same thing,” one of the two identical people responds, calm, almost tranquil.