Someone, Make Me Human!

I just want to be human. Humans have it all- Intelligence, strength, determination, and the Milky Way Galaxy. They control everything, or almost everything. They can control planets and stars, but they can’t control moons. That’s what scares them. Their Empire could easily come crashing down... That is, if those who live on Moons revolted. They could easily be outnumbered; Jupiter itself has 63 Moons. But people live in fear, not necessarily of humans themselves, but of their technology. They have weapons that can incinerate people in the blink of an eye, or force someone to implode. Humans are brilliant but terrifying. Even their home planet is impressive and enviable... 

They turned their stunning blue planet into a weapon, or rather a battleship. 

I’m a native of Europa, one of Jupiter’s numerous moons. It’s a dull, faded, pathetic excuse for a moon. It’s mostly tan and white, with the lines wildly covering it like a little kid haphazardly trying to cover his pancakes with syrup. It’s infamous for many things, but mostly for its native population. We, surprisingly, are similar to humans in appearance, but not as similar as I would like. Our skin has a grayish hue, as if the moon sucked out the color our skin so it could color itself. We have four eyes that give our faces a squished appearance. Everyone has hair of some neutral color, and dons 

bland looking clothes. The only thing about us that is enviable is our eyes. Our eyes can be countless different colors, such as magenta or indigo. 

Another major thing Europa is infamous for is its high drafting rate. Two out of three Europa Natives are guaranteed to be drafted, the third is only drafted if a rebellion is started; to remind the citizens of the Milky Way Galaxy who is in control. Draftees, after having completed their required service, get rewarded with a fair sum of cash. Enough cash to pay for many things, such as an operation to make you human. My older sister, Marishka, and older brother, Izaya got drafted a mere two months ago. They both have no desire to be human, and both love this dreary moon of ours. There hasn’t been a rebellion in 300 years, and there probably won’t be one in the next 300 years. Especially with the alleged development of the Atom Splitter, rumored to be able to disassemble anything and reassemble it into whatever the wielder desires. 

WEE-WOO, WEE-WOO, WE-WOO! The announcement siren blares, drowning out the voice of my History teacher who was midway through a lecture about Europa’s supposed important role in history. When did Europa ever do something important? A haze fills the room as the scene around us changes and is replaced with the setting of the Regional Announcement Center. Forced teleportation? They only do that when... 

“It is with great regret...” a booming voice begins, barely audible as my classmates fall over backwards, laughing as they realize too late that their chairs were not teleported with them, “that I inform you of the Death of Our Great Rulers.”  That is when I finally notice that the hologram isn’t that of the Royal Speaker, but of the Lord of Sector Seven. Why isn’t the Royal Speaker announcing this to us? “As of this 8:47 this morning, both King Stephen Baci and Queen Ella Baci have passed away.” Gasps of shock fill the Center, and the sound of all the gasps is almost deafening. “The culprits, who are believed to still be at large....” more gasps. How can everyone hear over all the gasping? “And to be from Sector Seven.” 

“Sector Seven,” whispers exclaim, echoing throughout the Center, “Sector Seven is...” The whispers are cut off by the hologram. 

“As of now, Sector Seven, which includes Mars, Jupiter, and their moons are under strict regulations. The first being, all of those who weren’t drafted by the last drafting must report to the nearest military base. The rest of the regulations will be discussed this evening,” the hologram flickers and disappears just as the message sinks in.