[ WP ] You are an alien fleeing from galactic police in a stolen spaceship containing experimental technology , attempting to fit in with life on Earth in order to hide .

Hazy LED light filtered through the blinds in a morning so early it looked like night. Jatt was propped up by the counter in front of him, eyes half-lidded, fighting the call of his bed, just a couple meters away. He stiffened as blue and red lights flickered across his ceiling, a statue until they passed. 
 
 The pavement was uneven on his walk to work, he kept his collar up to ward off the damp smog of the morning, the sun barely peering through a screen of brown sky. He took his usual route, nervously slowing down near the back-alley parking garage and craning his neck to catch the reassuring glint of his craft's front window. He ran his thumb over the key, the hard plastic slowing his breath as he continued his walk. 
 
 Work was exactly as promised, monotonous, exhausting, and anonymous. His hands moved without thought now, following the same patterns as the robot in the line, if a bit slower. Plastic, glass, metal, metal, plastic, plastic, glass. His dull expressions hardened into a frown when he thought of home. Playing Drek'ek in the nearby asteroid field, freshly picked maiztal slathered in homemade sauce and whatever powdered cheese they had. His eyes stung when he thought of the third sunrise, the brilliant blue of Seli rising over the sharp ridges of the mountain range near his family's home. 
 
 `` Chinta!'' He cursed as a shard of broken glass carelessly pierced his glove, then rubbed it against his pants and continued, glancing to the woman next to him, reassured she had n't heard him over the din of the thresher next to them. 
 
 On his way back from work, he stopped in the garage. It was late enough now to ensure his privacy, so he snuck a quick look in the cargo bin of his craft. After one last look around the deserted garage, he pulled the blanket away from his most precious cargo. The deep blue of the seed reflected the nearby lights dimly, looking like the small glimmer of the Milky Way from home. He ran his pierced thumb over the impossibly smooth surface of the seed, smiled quickly, and replaced the blanket over it before closing and locking the bin. 
 
 He kept his jacket on despite the warmth of the evening, his sleeves just a little too short for comfort, his marks of becoming an adult a little to evident without it. Back in his apartment, he heated a can of vegetables, adding a few spices that reminded him of the Rotavari he used to love. He stared blankly at the backsplash of his two burner stove while he ate over it, and crawled into bed as soon as he could. He thought only of home, wishing it would come to him in his dreams, but knowing he was far too tired to dream tonight. He glanced at the window, almost for a moment expecting to see the reassuring first sun, dim and scarlet, at this time of night. The window greeted him only with the buzz of LEDs, but the light was mildly reassuring. As his heavy lids closed, he recalled an old lullaby, 
 
 `` Bero is high, 
 
 And nighttime is nigh, 
 
 So lay your head down for now. 
 
 But when you next wake, 
 
 It'll be as today, 
 
 Until our last harvest comes down.'' 
 

