"Ms. Gretat, I am not a student anymore. Why do you refuse to give us a chance? You know, someone once said that love had surely made us all, and hate would surely make us fall." Jim's words ring in my ears. Little did he know that I, Nancy Gretat, not only knew whose words he had quoted but had once upon a time admired the man who had spoken them as well. There was just something about Elvis Presley.

Humans had bestowed the title of 'the king of rock and roll' on him with good reason. When the man sang and danced, even I, a BX-Mokin, disguised as a school nurse, couldn't help but tap my primary means of transport, aka my 'human' legs.

In the past sixty years, I have only ever come to endangering our mission: to establish our complete dominance over this planet, once, and it was all because of Elvis.

Sitting at my desk in the infirmary, I wonder what news might be waiting for me back at the base. Our general, A0001, is the most patient BX-Mokin I have the pleasure of working with. Maybe it's because I get out of our base almost every day to keep my 'pretend human' lifestyle that has changed the way I look at these humans amongst whom I walk every day. I will never admit it to my superiors, but I think I have grown attached to these homosapiens. BX-Mokins don't have a heart; technically, we are incapable of affection. Still, if I were to put a word to how I feel for these deluded, so-called intelligent species of this planet, it would probably be something on the lines of affection.

I can't imagine how the general spends all his time in that confined space. He has never complained about the hourglass, his abode, being crampy. I don't understand why he has never shown any desire to venture outside the glass walls that surrounds him. Let alone stepping out of our base, he hasn't once suggested stepping outside the primitive time-keeping instrument.

Our numbers were growing; soon, in fact, any day now, we might receive the signal to activate the next part of our plans for taking over this planet. Truth be told, I do not want to see every last untagged human: earthlings that we have, for the lack of a better term, latched on to and genetically modified, disappear in a puff of smoke. But what can I do? I am just a gatherer. I can not decide whose body we get to keep and whose we leave to get incinerated.

I sigh without meaning to. It was an acquired human trait. However, you wouldn't catch me doing it in front of other BX-Mokins.

We pride ourselves on being the most adaptive race in the universe. This trait had helped us conquer almost sixty-seven planets spread across twenty-eight galaxies.

When we, the BX-Mokins, leave our home planet to venture out in search of new homes, we never return without success. Earth will be the crown jewel of our acquisitions once the extermination process ends.

I believed in our mission once upon a time, not so much anymore now, though. Flipping a student's medical file, and my thoughts drift to that day more than forty decades ago when I had heard Elvis for the first and last time.

I didn't need a thorough examination to tell me that the man was sick. As he sang his hit number, 'Are you lonesome tonight?', bidding goodbye to his audience, my head started hurting like I hadn't consumed the required amount of salt, our primary source of sustenance, for a week. I scanned the crowd with my visionary sensors and found a woman two rows in front whose left wrist was glowing. I concluded that whatever it was, was weakening my senses.

Soon after, the mind-link connecting me to the rest of my kind who breathed the land air broke.

As beings that shared thoughts, I noticed it immediately when all of a sudden, my mind felt silent.

I approached the human with the glowing wrist on trembling knees. On closer inspection, the human seemed to be in her late teens. Sporting a halter neck top and bell-bottoms, the girl was screaming through her tears.

It was probably because the concert was on its last leg. I couldn't relate to how the young girl was feeling. I envied it, nonetheless.

Alas, before I could get close enough to understand what was causing the unwanted reaction in me, I lost complete control of my limbs and collapsed.

I tried hard to stand back up, but my legs refused to cooperate. What was more, my visionary sensors started failing me as well! Before I knew it, I was surrounded by darkness.

BX-Mokins were not scared of the dark, for we knew and understood each other well. It must have had something to do with our race taking over worlds that did not have a sun to call their own. Though executing our mission in the dark was nothing new, the situation I had found myself in was different. I was all alone. I couldn't hear anyone; there was no one to guide me or help me regain my senses.

As I lost all my remaining senses except touch, I felt warm arms lift me up. First humid and then dry air brushed my exposed skin.

Slowly but surely, sensation returned to my limbs. I opened my eyes and found myself in a small vanity room.

I sat up immediately.

"Glad to see you up, beautiful." A familiar voice commented.

I turned around to confirm my doubts, and sure enough, there he was, the king of rock and roll, standing a few feet away with his trademark grin directed at me.

I was rendered speechless. No, I was not awestruck; I just did not know how a human teen would behave when faced with such a situation.

The man in white stepped closer but stopped before it could be considered inappropriate. "How are you feeling? I have sent for the doctor. He should be here soon." he added casually.

Oh no!

I couldn't afford a medical examiner anywhere near me. I jumped to my feet. "I am fine. I must leave."

Elvis quirked his brow suspiciously. I couldn't have that; I needed to keep my cover, that of a human fan.

I smiled coyly, "I would love an autograph if it's fine with you." I requested, fluttering my lashes like I had seen women do in movies.

The man's grin returned with a vengeance. He nodded and took out a pen from his pocket. "Just tell me where."

As he scribbled his name on my purse: the only thing I had on me, our skins touched, cementing my earlier presumption about his health.

Maybe it was that I still hadn't been able to reestablish my mind-link and was capable of independent thought that I asked, "Why have you decided to give up?"

Elvis glanced up; he searched my eyes for answers, which I knew he wouldn't find.

"Is it so obvious?"

I shook my head, "I am different."

"Like a psychic?"

"Something like that," I replied vaguely.

"I can feel myself fading. I don't want to lose the love the Memphis mafia have showered me with, you know. I want to live in their hearts forever, I guess." He shrugged.

"I can help you get back to your old self."

I don't know what he was thinking, for the next moment, the entertainer asked, "But will it really be me?"

I could have lied, but I didn't want to. "No, it won't," I replied sincerely.

"Then, my dear, I would have to refuse your kind offer. I would rather live as myself for a day than live as someone else for decades." He took a deep breath, "I must take your leave now, young lady. Stay well."

With that, the man smiled at me fondly, winked, and left the building.

"Ms. Gretat," A commanding female voice pulls me back to the present; I find Ms. Jackson, the gym instructor, at the door with a young boy of about ten, standing next to her.

I direct a kind smile at the young human who had apparently hurt his knee during PE. Promptly leaving my seat, I get down to business.

I couldn't get Elvis out of my mind on my way home. The entertainer had died barely two months later. If only...

My trip to Indianapolis was not a failure by any standard. If anything, it had opened our eyes to the danger the element radium, discovered by the Polish physicist researcher Marie Curie, posed to our kind. After I was able to reestablish the mind-link, I had informed the general what I had experienced in the concert. He had sent our tactile team to investigate immediately. Before long, we had found that the radioactive element, even in small quantities, was lethal to us. If I would not have taken the trip to Indianapolis, we would never have known about it so early on.

The alarm in my cell phone goes off, reminding me that my trip to the grocery store was due.

I let my phone ring, and the song, We don't need another hero, from the movie Mad Max fills the inside of my Chevy.

Ironic, isn't it?

The movie that aired decades ago was set in a post-apocalyptic world. And now, with every revolution it made around its sun, this planet was moving closer to its own apocalypse. However, unlike the movie, no one, hero or otherwise, was on his way to rescue the Earthlings.

Doom was looming over the planet, and the only ones who should be scared were continuing to take their home for granted.

{Word count: 1652}