Griffith High School
The Orange Commander
Week A, Wednesday, sport last two periods but now it was Agriculture. We were not at the main block of Agriculture but at the subdivision, the paddock of lime green grass sixty centimetres tall. It was like a tropical rainforest.
I had wanted to taste a saltbush for so long, since Year 9. It was a nice looking shrub. Its leaves curled up, its texture on the leaf looking like salt crystals. I tasted a year of waiting, a whole year. It was good. However, this taste, this sensation, was cut by the earth starting to cave in the middle.
However, it was not hollow. Something was rising, some architecturally designed piece of machinery looking like it did not even belong to this millennium. This was only the tip. It was deeply rooted into the ground. The sharp long tip had fully risen out of this masterpiece. The cone-looking tip quaked out robots and machines started filing out.
These robots formed a line from the craft; a sort of perimeter around this craft was crafted in no time at all. The Commander, I guessed, was the one in orange. He spoke as calmly and politely as possible. However, this was not in my language and I said “I speak English.” After a quick fiddle with his suit, he was no longer speaking a foreign language, but one I understood.
“We are the disciples from Silver Apple planet. We are here to inform you that your planet is under attack.”
I looked at one of them who remained with me. The rest of the school was in chaos, children and teachers all getting out of there as quick as possible.
I said, “Mr Commander, I am only in Year 10. I’m not no leader of any planet.” The Commander asked me to take him to my leader. I laughed in his face and said, “it’s about six hundred kilometres away.”