[Long beep]

  (Female prompt voice): Recording.

  Check one… two… check one… two…

  (Female voice in background): Ooooooh. What’s

  that? Is that a new toy?

  No. It’s a new recorder. I bought one.

  Here — chocolates. Now go watch TV.

  Ahem.

  Imperial Prince Marcus Torres of the Empire of Men, First Knight of Earth's Imperial Order.

  Mini-autobiography. Continuation of Log 4-4-5-0.

  After that chilling, banshee-like scream… she collapsed and fell asleep.

  Jericho and I checked her pulse again. Still strong. He adjusted the blanket — again. We just stood there, confused… horrified… completely out of our depth.

  Jericho dropped into a chair beside the bed. I sat on the floor, trying to process what had just happened.

  At some point, I noticed Jericho leaning back, asleep.

  I must’ve dozed off too.

  (Female voice in background): Where’s the remote?

  It’s right there! Use your eyes, for God’s sake. I’m busy.

  Ugh.

  Anyway…

  I woke up to Jericho shaking me.

  “She’s gone.”

  The bed was empty.

  Panic.

  Then we heard it.

  Clunk.

  Metal.

  From the mini-kitchen in my lab.

  Jericho picked up his gun.

  We moved slowly. Quietly.

  He lowered the gun halfway — I think neither of us wanted another scream like before.

  As we reached the doorway—

  We saw her.

  Crouched, naked in front of the open refrigerator.

  Eating.

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Jericho whispered, “Why is she eating Earth food?”

  I had no answer.

  I told him to hide the gun behind his back and move forward slowly.

  She turned her head. We stopped and froze.

  An apple in her hand. Mouth full. Cake icing smeared across her cheeks.

  Yes. My fridge was full of desserts at the time.

  She stared at us.

  Wide-eyed.

  Then calmly turned back and continued eating.

  We looked at each other.

  She devoured everything.

  Fruit. Bread. Cake. My Double Dutch ice cream.

  Yes. I love Double Dutch ice cream.

  When the fridge was empty, she kept searching inside like something might magically reappear.

  Then she suddenly stood and turned toward us.

  We instinctively covered our eyes.

  Mostly.

  She grabbed a plate and walked toward us.

  We backed up.

  She extended the plate… and pointed at it.

  She wanted more.

  Jericho nodded vigorously. “We… get… more… food.”

  Two thumbs up.

  Then he patted my back and bolted out the door toward his truck.

  Leaving me.

  Alone.

  With her.

  The awkwardness was unbearable.

  She didn’t care at all.

  I grabbed a blanket from the room and draped it over her shoulders. She followed my movements with her eyes — everywhere I looked, she tracked me.

  Gently, I guided her to a chair.

  She sat immediately.

  Then her attention shifted.

  To the television.

  Her head tilted slightly.

  Curious.

  I grabbed the remote and turned it on.

  A slapstick cartoon was playing.

  Her eyes widened.

  Her lips twitched.

  Then she smiled.

  Even with icing and melted ice cream on her face…

  She was still unbelievably beautiful.

  I grabbed tissues and wiped her cheeks. She barely reacted — too absorbed in the cartoon.

  So I cleaned her face properly.

  And waited.

  About an hour later, Jericho returned with grocery bags.

  Food.

  And clothes.

  He asked how she was.

  Before I could answer, she sniffed the air.

  Turned her head slowly.

  And let out a soft, drawn-out sound.

  “Aaaaaaah…”

  Like a hungry baby.

  Jericho placed the bags on the table and handed her the food.

  She devoured everything.

  Fruit. Bread. Cake. Ice cream.

  Then—

  She choked.

  “Oh my God!” Jericho shouted.

  I grabbed a 1.5-liter bottle of water, twisted it open, and held it to her mouth.

  She drank the entire bottle in one gulp.

  Then went back to eating.

  Twenty-five minutes later, the food was gone.

  If she could’ve eaten the plastic wrapping, she probably would have.

  She looked at us.

  Smiled.

  Then turned back to the cartoon.

  Jericho handed me the clothes.

  “You put them on her,” he said.

  “I have a girlfriend.”

  Ridiculous excuse.

  While she watched TV, I wiped her face again, this time with a damp towel. I guided her to stand — she cooperated without protest, eyes still glued to the screen.

  I dressed her in a small pink shirt, black knee-length pants…

  And yes. That part was awkward.

  Then I sat her back down.

  Jericho leaned against the wall, arms crossed, smirking at me.

  He asked what we should name her.

  “Angel,” he suggested.

  Too generic.

  While she laughed at the cartoon, something strange happened.

  Her black hair shimmered.

  Blue with a streak of pink.

  Then green with a streak of purple.

  Like faint neon lights flowing through it.

  Jericho’s jaw dropped.

  She brushed her hair back with her fingers—

  And something small fell to the floor.

  I picked it up.

  A crystal.

  Warm.

  Glowing.

  Shifting from white… to blue… to dark… then back to white again.

  Otherworldly.

  As she laughed again, more tiny crystals formed and dropped from her glowing strands.

  One.

  Then another.

  Then another.

  Jericho walked over slowly.

  I showed him what I was holding.

  We looked at each other.

  And nodded.

  “Crystal.”

  (Female voice in background, giggling): Aaaah. So that’s where my name came from.

  Yes. You’re Crystal.

  -She laughed again in the background-

  But in that moment…

  I realized something.

  These crystals weren’t just beautiful.

  They were powerful.

  I could feel it.

  And I knew—

  My uncle, fighting his war for freedom…

  This… This might be what he’s been searching for.

  And I—

  [Long beep]

  (Female prompt voice): Memory low.

  No. No, no, no—

  Ahhh! Damn it!

  [Recording stopped]