Image created with DALL-E-2 using the prompt 'White geometric fractal patterns contrasted the silver color of the surfaces of the giant icosahedron.'
The object appeared out of nowhere, fifty miles above the Earth's surface. It descended slowly, giving the world's leaders plenty of time to panic, before coming to a halt a few feet above a soccer field in a public park in St Paul, Minnesota. The Air Force fired a barrage of AIM-260 Joint Advanced Tactical Missiles at the object as it descended, which had no effect. The missiles didn't explode. They merely blinked out of existence as they approached their target.
News vans arrived to the site within minutes, broadcasting footage of the object to the world. Police swarmed the area, establishing a perimeter, which was quickly taken over by National Guard soldiers. Soon, a crowd of thousands gathered, with more people showing up every minute. When word arrived that three identical objects had landed elsewhere in the world, many feared that the planet was being invaded by a hostile force.
And then, nothing happened. People argued about what the objects were and what their presence meant. Mainstream media referred to them as spheres, which greatly annoyed scientists, who pointed out that they were technically truncated icosahedrons. The military tried everything they could to get into the spheres, but were prevented from doing so by some kind of force field technology beyond human understanding.
Months passed. Winter turned to spring and the soldiers guarding the site became fixtures in the working class neighborhood surrounding the park. A steady stream of tourists came to take selfies with the sphere in the background. The media largely lost interest.
One day in April, the sphere began shimmering, as if bending the light around it. An hour later, a portal opened and a walkway extended itself from the sphere to the ground below. A man in ornate robes and a tall, beehive-shaped hat exited the craft. He appeared entirely human, with dark skin and a confident bearing.
Navigating the walkway, stepping firmly on the earth, this man took a few steps towards a formation of soldiers frantically positioning themselves as if for a firefight. Raising his hand in greeting, the man stopped thirty yards from the soldiers. Though his lips didn't move, a booming voice emanated from his location. "We come in peace," said the voice. "Our intention is to speak with James Barry Wayne, of Fry Street in this city. Please make way so I can walk to his residence and call on him."
The soldiers looked confused. A woman in a suit grabbed a bullhorn. "Welcome traveler," she said. "Do not proceed. Our leaders are concerned about biological contamination. Please go to the large yellow tent to your left for decontamination."
"Please do not interfere with my activities," said the man, continuing towards the soldiers nearest Fry Street.
"We will use force to prevent you from breaching the perimeter," said Bullhorn.
When the man was twenty feet from the soldiers, they fired on him. It was noisy, but the man was surrounded by some kind of invisible armor, which the bullets disappeared into. The soldiers were dumbstruck. One tried attacking with a large wrench. As this soldier swung, he became frozen in place, and didn't regain power of movement until the alien had passed.
Upon reaching the barricade, the man disappeared, reappearing behind the military occupation, where the media hung out. Several livestreamers and a local news crew broadcast the event as it happened. The man paid them no heed. Instead, he continued walking towards his destination with a rapidly growing crowd trailing behind him.
Five minutes later, the man reached a shabby house with a chain link fence around its yard. Opening the gate, he walked up to the door and knocked on it. The door opened, revealing an unshaven twentysomething in jeans and a plain shirt. "Holy shit!" said James, who'd been following the news. "The alien!"
"I am Thubu," said Thubu. "And you are James Wayne. I have questions for you. Is there somewhere we can talk?"
"Pope hat alien wants to talk!" said James. "I mean, sure. Come on in. Do you eat? Drink? Can I offer you anything? Oh, and can I livestream this?"
Thubu followed James into a messy living room, accepting a seat on a rocking chair. "Bring me your finest refreshment," he said.
James ducked into the kitchen and returned a moment later. "Best I got is store brand orange juice," he said, handing Thubu a glass.
There was pounding outside. The door was broken in. A group of soldiers tried to rush in, but were stopped by an invisible barrier where the door used to be. "Pay them no attention," said Thubu. "We have important matters to discuss."
"Like what?" asked James. "I seriously have no idea what you're doing here."
"Our larger purpose is complex," said Thubu. "My immediate purpose in calling on you is to invite you onto my vessel to engage in a learning exercise."
"What kind of learning exercise?" asked James.
"Questions, conversations, games," said Thubu. "You may also learn skills which could be useful elsewhere in your life."
"Wait, how long do you want me for?" asked James.
"Thirty of your days should be sufficient," said Thubu.
"Man, I got work," said James. "Is there like, a per diem or something?"
"All of your needs will be met, during the exercise and afterward," said Thubu. "You would be doing us a great service. We would be in your debt."
Considering this, James grinned. "Fuck it," he said. "What do I have to do?"
"Follow closely behind me when I leave," said Thubu. "Within five feet. We will then proceed to the vessel."
"Should I pack a bag or something?" asked James.
"If that makes you comfortable," said Thubu.
"Maybe just give me a minute to text everyone before I disappear for a month," said James.
"Did you not just show them with livestream?" asked Thubu.
"Not everyone will see that," said James.
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