What’s the difference?

The Escape to Planet Riglaan Part I

Ever since my childhood, I had suspected that this planet wasn”t where I belonged. In fact, my fellow Aspies and I were all trapped in a world where people were judgmental and least understanding. The coldness and indifference were through the roof.

My name was Sabra Douglass and I lived with a family that was far more normal than I was. They constantly went shopping and no wonder why we were in piling debt. They also went to the movie theater to watch lewd comedies and horrednous action movies. As for me, I prefer to watch kids” movies even at my age. All the girls wore expensive makeup that could clog pores until there was an implosion. My little brother and dad only thought of sports and earning money, like those were the only means in life. My two bigger sisters date as many hansom guys as they could find, but so for I was the only one who didn”t want a romantic partner. Strange, wasn”t it?

As for me, I just wanted to read, draw and play videogames. They was nothing strange about my hobby of videogames except for this: while mainstreamers prefer to play games about violences, sports and races, I prefrred to play games about restoring the peace and helping those in need, which were clearly out of fashion. Trust me, homework wasn”t as bad as dealing with regular taunts and teases at school. I dressed funny to them and they couldn”t tolerate my indiviudalism.

One night, I gazed up at the stars, hoping to finally find the place where I rightfully belonged. Earth was a beautiful planet, but the humans had a way of trashing it up and making life on Earth a real pain in the gallbladder. The sky was perfectly clear, since this was a desert in the southern part of Texas. The skys were vast and dazzling. There had been times when I wished that I could just forget about life with humans and appeciate the planet’’s attributes, which didn”t judge me at all. I was just another organism living on Terra.

My room was the attic, which I liked, and it was spacious. There were also a couple of big closets where I could keep my excess supplies. There was also a wooden bed near a front window, a vertical dresser and an entertainment center along with a desk and a minitower computer. Of course, who could forget a shelf full of books on various topics? I may have had Asperger’’s Syndrome, but my avid interest in topics did change.

After a while, I had to check out what email had come my way. I usually got stuff on activism as well as information on Asperger’’s Syndrome, but once I opened my webmail I realized that something new had come my way. I opened it, and it turned out to be an email from a place that I hadn”t even heard of before. The sender box had Szeenm@PlanetRiglaan.gal. I sincerely hope that it was what it sounded like it was from.

The letter read:

Dear Miss Sabra J. Douglass:

We”ve made an obversation that Homo sapiens is a race of judgmentalism and inflexible social expectations, so we”re offering you and your fellow Aspies a new place in the galaxy where you can carry out your life purposed without anyone unneedingly holding you back. Sabra, we are giving you an assignment: inform your peers that we have an offer for you, but it’’s far from your planet Earth.

We expect to hear back from you as soon as possible so we can know if your up to the challenge. We”ve only been able to tap into your emailing system, so phones and faxing can”t be done to contact us.

Hang in there!

Yours truly,

Szeenm-Kaash-Nikxa-Beel

I scracthed my head, thinking. I had thought for a long time that there were aliens in the galaxy, but there was also the popular notion that the galaxy was out to get the human race, which sounded like total galactic paranoia. I was also aware of all the hoaxes that people did to put a damper on the SETI.

I was trying to decide whether or not I should send a reply. The main thing was that I should never reveal my home address and telephone number, not that I wanted to chat unceasingly with a stranger who could conveniently find my location and then hold me for ransom. All the same, it looked like this character had gotten a hold of my email address, which didn”t necessarily reveal my home location, and that was a sweet relief!

I wrote:

Dear Szeenm:

I would like some solid proof that you would really want to help us Aspies and Auties. Otherwise, I would have to agree that we are misfits on a planet of judmentalism and conservatism. I”ll have to learn more before I can really give my consent. For now, I”m just being a recluse, which usually minimizes that risk of being caught doing my own thing.

Please tell me about this proposal soon.

Sincerely,

Sabra J. Douglass

Then I sent the darn email. When I was finsihed taking care of the other emails, I shut my computer off so I could do some reading. That was when Mom came up the stairs.

“Sabra, would you like to go see Pretty Angel?” she asked me.

That was a movie that all the TV channels, radio bands and people at school raved about, and it was apparently about some teenage girl who overcame family oppression, only to be in the hands of a buff man ready to rescue her. That sounded way too passivist to me, so I would rather participate in a rescue.

“I think I”ll pass,” I said finally.

“Sabra, this is a family outing,” she pointed out.

I groaned.

“Hey, you asked me if I wanted to come, like that was an option,” I said. “I don”t believe in passivism.”

“Sabra, don”t talk to me like that!” she said.

I shrugged.

“I hoped that we could watch something that we all can watch, such as a new Pixar animation film,” I said. “You know how much I love computer animation and Pixar’’s jokes!”

Mom sighed.

“Sabra, I wish you would give Pixar a break…” she said. “We”re going to see Pretty Angel.”

“Trust me, it doesn”t sound like an angelical movie to me,” I pointed out, “so I prefer to stay here and finish a book on ways to prevent school violence.”

She just left my room briskly, as though not knowing how to deal with my stubborn attitude. It looked like I had been able to get away from watching a lame movie. The point of a comedy was to make a person laugh, but not all comedies even made me chuckle.

I preferred to stare at the night sky anyway, so I opened a window so that I could get a better view of the stars and planets. The Texan air was cool and dry, just the way I liked it. Having received a mysterious email tonight, now I wanted to think about Szeenm’’s letter over and over again, since I also had obsessive compulsive disorder.

The saga continues……