It Wasn't An Olam. Really.

This has been an interesting couple of days, what with the fireball caught on film by a reporter in Austin, Texas. Austin is not all that far from where I live and as soon as it appeared on the news, I was besieged with calls from the few who know what I really am.

No, it wasn't an Olam. Don't you think we'd be subtler than that? Yes, my alien form is, essentially, a ball of light, but we don't as a rule plummet through the atmosphere like a falling rock the size of a bus and the consistency of concrete. Which, apparently, is what that fireball was, according to the Federal Aviation Administration. We are light creatures ~literally ~ and can take up very little space when we wish to go unseen. Now, that doesn't mean arriving Olam haven't impersonated meteors on occasion, to avoid the hassle of having to wait to sneak down to the planet on a very bright day, but not this time. I've been assured of that.

Having the ability to take on a form which allows one to fly wherever one wishes, without the bother of toll tags, parking meters or even a vehicle, can be very convenient. Except when one is mistaken for chunks of barbecuing space debris, which is why I spend most of my time in my human form. It's so much easier to explain, and frankly, my significant other likes it better, too. She's still trying to relate to the being-in-love-with-a-giant-light-bulb (her words) nature of our relationship.

I imagine if you haven't read Undercover Alien, you probably have a few questions ~ like why is an alien involved with a human? Actually, for anyone fascinated with such things (and you know who you are) it's rather simple, and entirely anatomically possible. A long time ago, my species lost the ability to produce female offspring and would have become extinct if they hadn't figured out how to reproduce with an alternate host.

I won't bog you down with the scientific details, much less the logistics, but essentially all modern Olam are the product of both Olam genetic material and the genetic material of a non-Olam mother. This is also where our ability to change form comes from; we can shape ourselves into both an Olam and the form of our maternal parent. So I can be Olam and human. Some of the oldest of my species can take on other forms as well, but that takes centuries of study and practice, so don't expect me to entertain at your next party by impersonating something on the buffet.

We don't have a home of our own, so there are Olam living on most of the inhabited planets in this galaxy. The reason our planet no longer exists is a story for another time; I only bring it up because I am thankful every day my mother was human. I can think of a lot of entities I would rather not be, like an Xatrobrian, for instance. Slimy, irritable beasts. And my significant other wouldn't have liked it, either. Trust me.