Episode 2: Saucers

Artwork: Jackson and Jane, reading the signs.

Posted October 20, 2025

“Some folks see saucers. Some folks see spotlights. Same sky, different eyes.”

It’s been a few weeks since Marcellus vanished. Some say he fled. Some say he was taken. Either way, he’s gone. But his words linger like static in the air: “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

Jackson has been noticing things he never used to. Not just ICE vans outside schools, but the tone of voices in town. Conversations he used to ignore now buzz louder than the fluorescent break room lights.

Jackson stops into the diner after working a late shift. It’s a popular place this evening and he notes a few familiar faces as he makes his was to his window booth. Becky Reagan, an old friend, brushes by him on her way out the door without even a nod of greeting. Thomas Jordan, is seated at the bar under the television. There are other folks he recognizes there too, but everyone keeps to themselves this evening. As he settles into the booth he watches a couple argue over the tax levy for the dam. Then later and louder, another table debates whether the zoning board's latest vote was “democracy” or “corporate favoritism”. And now, on the TV above the coffee station, Councilwoman Marjorie smiles through a puff-piece interview about “protecting our town’s character”?!

“Wow! That’s a lot of debate for a rainy Thursday evening… everyone needs to relax a bit.” Jackson mused. Becky used to debate with him all the time he thought. She was a talker and used to speak at those council meetings too. Now she barely makes eye contact. She and Jackson had been the best of friends growing up, but like everything in this town… she’d changed and become withdrawn and timid. Becky used to be the loudest voice in the crowd and tell everyone what she thought about everything. She had never been shy… but now…

Then there is Thomas — he was the first to start wearing those red caps — He was older than Jackson, but was always seen around town when Jackson was a kid. Thomas had always talked about “illegal aliens stealing our jobs” and Thomas and his friends always joked that Thomas had it out for ET and Marvin the Martian. Whenever Thomas heard the teasing he’d smile at them and tell them to get lost. Thomas’ smile never reached his eyes. He was probably Councilwoman Marjorie’s biggest fan and never missed a rally. Thomas was just asking the waitress to turn up the interview when the the diner door chimed and in walks Jane.

Jane slides into the booth uninvited, but like she’s been expected. She works the evening desk at the library each night, but always had a knack for showing up when Jackson needed her the most. Jane was a bit of an oddball… incredibly intelligent… a voracious reader… and a bit of an excentric personality. Whereas Thomas would take a current event or catastrophe and espouse this conspiracy theory or that to assign blame; Jane provided explanatory fiction for the events around town. For Thomas contrails in the sky were the nefarious work of the CIA, but Jane saw them as evidence for fairies and pixies. Jackson always welcomed his conversations with Jane… they were first-class entertainment!

“You look like someone who needs answers,” she said, as she flagged the waitress down for a cup of coffee.

Reaching into her tote, she pulls out a tarot deck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Jackson smiles, but hesitates before answering. “Jane… something is off… things around town look the same, but they’re different. Everyone here seems to be trying to ignore it, hoping it’ll go away, but folks are scared. I’m scared.”

Gently grasping Jackson’s hand in hers she looks into his eyes and smiles, “You don’t have to believe in the cards,” Jane says. “But you do need to understand that you are in a state of awakening… you are finally waking up.” Jane flips the first card — The Tower — and Jackson feels his chest tighten.

Through the rain-fogged diner window behind her, two silhouettes pause briefly beneath a glowing street light. Jackson blinks. Maybe they’re shadows. Maybe not.

He doesn’t say a word and watches the cards flip one by one.