I couldn’t stop thinking about how, in just a few days, I’d gone from a confused human abductee to... well, still a confused human abductee, but with some pretty strange abilities under my belt. It didn’t make sense, and no one had been able to give me a straight answer.

  The biggest puzzle was how I could understand their language. I had no training in alien tongues, and yet, when Vrixibalt spoke, I understood him perfectly. Even more bizarre, the ship’s controls—those blinking, alien consoles and screens that once looked like an abstract mess of colors and symbols—now felt somewhat readable, like I was slowly deciphering a hidden code. It wasn’t fluent, and it didn’t always make sense, but there were patterns, little clues. Things I could interpret, things I could use.

  At first, I thought it was just some weird survival instinct kicking in. Maybe my brain was reacting to the overwhelming confusion of the situation, trying to adapt. But now? Now it felt deliberate. Like something deeper was at play. The language, the tech, even the walls of the ship—they were slowly becoming less alien. The feeling was unsettling, as if I was starting to unlock a door that I wasn’t sure I should open.

  I figured I should ask about it. I had nothing else to go on, and being in the dark about this was starting to get old.

  "Vrixibalt," I said, catching the scientist as he passed through the hallway. The strange blue lights above flickered, casting erratic shadows across the metallic walls. "How is this possible? I couldn’t even read this stuff when I woke up. How is it that I’m starting to make sense of your systems and understand your language?"

  He paused, looking a little too pleased with himself. His narrow, greenish face seemed to twitch with excitement, and I could tell his eyes were gleaming with that familiar look—the kind you get when you think you’re about to explain something mind-blowing. "Ah, yes. You see, it is something we have yet to fully comprehend ourselves," Vrixibalt said, the alien’s voice tinged with the enthusiasm of someone who was always on the brink of a groundbreaking discovery. "Your species' cognitive abilities seem... well, remarkably adaptive. It’s as though your brain is unlocking parts of the ship’s interface as you interact with it. Fascinating, isn’t it?"

  "Unlocking? What does that even mean? And why me? Why humans?" I pressed, my frustration creeping in. "I wasn’t trained for this kind of thing. How could I possibly understand this technology?"

  He fidgeted slightly, his long, spindly fingers twisting around the edge of his lab coat. "It is not entirely understood," he admitted, with a bit of hesitation. "But it seems your species, humans, possess a remarkable trait. You have an innate capacity for adaptation that surpasses many species we've encountered. It is as if your mind, through some process we still cannot grasp, begins to understand and synchronize with the ship’s systems simply by proximity."

  "But why me?" I pressed harder, trying to get to the heart of this. "Was I just... lucky?"

  Vrixibalt didn’t seem to mind the question. "Ah, yes. Luck, indeed. It seems your species possesses an affinity for luck... and resilience," he added, as though the concept itself was still a bit foreign to him. "We have studied several species in our time, but none quite like yours. There is a... fortuitous quality to your kind. Your biology, your mindset, your unpredictability. We do not fully understand it, but it could explain why you are capable of connecting with our ship in ways no one else has."

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  I shook my head, not sure whether I was relieved or more confused. "So, you're telling me that I'm some kind of special human? My brain just happens to work better with alien tech?"

  Vrixibalt laughed, an odd high-pitched sound that reminded me of an insect buzzing around a light. "Not ‘special,’ as you put it, but your species'... potential. It is not something we see often in other lifeforms, and certainly not to this extent. Your ability to adapt, to learn at an accelerated pace... it is like nothing we’ve encountered. You could be a key to understanding many of our technologies."

  I couldn’t help but feel a little uncomfortable with that idea. It was one thing to be lucky in a poker game; it was another to be considered some kind of... test subject for aliens who thought they were unlocking some kind of cosmic cheat code. Still, if I could help myself get out of here—whatever “here” was—by cracking their tech, I might be able to get closer to some answers.

  As I walked away, I caught sight of the ship’s controls again. The symbols on the screens seemed less random now. I still couldn’t read them completely, but there was something intuitive about it. It was like a puzzle I was slowly piecing together without fully realizing how. I reached for one of the panels and ran my fingers over the smooth surface, trying to unlock more of the code.

  "What do you think you’re doing?"

  It was Vrixibalt again. He was watching me carefully, his sharp eyes fixed on my every move. "You’re not trying to... connect with the ship’s systems, are you? It could be dangerous."

  I turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I’m not doing anything crazy—just looking."

  "Ah, but you do not understand," he said, his voice suddenly quiet and serious. "Your species may not be aware, but you are interfacing with our technology. This ship... is not just a collection of metal and circuits. It is a living entity in a way. A part of us."

  I stared at him, feeling a chill crawl up my spine. "What do you mean, it’s alive? You said this ship was a machine."

  Vrixibalt seemed almost embarrassed, shifting his weight nervously. "Yes, it is... but it is also a conscious entity of sorts. Its systems are... aware. Not in the way your brain is aware, but enough to recognize when an alien mind is interfacing with it. You’re becoming part of the ship's flow. And, should you continue, it may begin to respond to you in ways that... even we do not fully understand."

  Great. Not only was I dealing with a spaceship that seemed to have a mind of its own, but now I was apparently a part of it. Maybe I was being foolish, but I had to admit—it was starting to feel like my luck was the only thing keeping me from getting in over my head.

  “Fine,” I said, stepping back from the console. “I’ll keep my distance. But you’d better explain all of this before I end up making things worse, alright?”

  Vrixibalt nodded, his face grave for the first time. "We will explain. But for now, it is important that you understand one thing: You are an essential part of this mission, whether you want to be or not. And whether we fully understand how or why, you will have to work with us."

  "Great," I muttered, the weight of it all sinking in. "So I’m stuck helping you, then. That sounds like just what I need right now."

  As I turned away, the hum of the ship seemed louder than ever, vibrating through the walls as though it, too, was aware of my place in this mess. And I couldn’t shake the feeling that the more I uncovered, the deeper I was digging myself into something way bigger than I could ever imagine.