Nobody noticed the spaceship.
Which, frankly, was disappointing. Scout #F-23-XY of the Zarnok-7 Recon Division had been trained for years in advanced infiltration techniques, interspecies diplomacy, and galactic etiquette. The descent through Earth's upper atmosphere had been flashy, full of controlled plasma burns and spiral flips meant to impress even the most oblivious species. But as the ship hurtled toward the planet, all it passed were humans staring down at glowing rectangles, headphones in, oblivious to the roar of its descent.
The ship finally crashed behind a 7-Eleven in Oakland, California, wedging itself neatly between a dumpster and a rotting couch someone had written "FREE" on in Sharpie.
F-23-XY's first moment on Earth was spent crawling out of molten debris, clutching the only salvageable part of the onboard data bank: a fragment of cultural archives corrupted by solar radiation. Instead of the carefully curated diplomatic briefings it had expected—maps, language modules, behavioral norms—the alien found itself staring at three glitchy media files:
A nearly complete collection of Friends episodes (with Korean subtitles).
A stream of TikTok videos ranging from makeup tutorials to an eight-minute conspiracy about lizard people in Hollywood.
A Reddit thread titled "PROOF That Birds Aren't Real (they're Government Drones, WAKE UP)".
It was, F-23-XY decided, time to blend in.
Transformation took mere seconds. The alien morphed into a statistically average human male—early twenties, messy hair, hoodie, slightly haunted eyes. For flair, it gave itself a jawline so sharp it could slice a cantaloupe. After some quick calibration (and one unfortunate detour where it turned entirely blue and confused a flock of pigeons), it named itself "Ch4dth" after an amalgamation of usernames it saw on TikTok and began its infiltration.
Step one: acquire shelter.Step two: integrate.Step three: rise in status, gather data, and wait for exfil.
Fortunately, Earthlings made this simple. There existed a network known as Craigslist, a chaotic bazaar of goods, services, and desperate humans offering space in exchange for rent. One post stood out:
ROOMMATE WANTED
$300/mo. Close to campus. Not picky. Don't be a murderer.
Must love ramen. Bring your own toilet paper. WiFi kinda works.
Ask for Jasper.
Ch4dth responded in exactly 0.04 seconds with the message:
"I am not a murderer. I am deeply invested in the human experience. I also love ramen. Please accept me into your domicile."
Somehow, this worked.
Jasper Lin opened the door to his two-bedroom apartment wearing pajama pants and an expression that screamed "I gave up three semesters ago." He blinked at Ch4dth, who stood there grinning, holding a Hello Kitty duffle bag, and wearing mismatched shoes.
"You're… Ch4d?" Jasper asked.
"Ch4dth," the alien corrected. "The 'th' is silent unless you are angry."
"Right," Jasper said. "Rent's due on the first. I don't care what you do as long as you don't touch my Cheez-Its."
Ch4dth nodded solemnly. "I will defend your Cheez-Its with my life."
Jasper paused. "Cool. You're in."
Within hours, Ch4dth had absorbed every sitcom on the shared Netflix account, attempted to cook ramen by placing the noodles directly on the stove coil, and introduced itself to neighbors by quoting Chandler Bing and performing Fortnite dances on their front porch.
Jasper, who was used to weird, chalked it up to performance art.
That night, Ch4dth stared out the window at the moon and whispered into a half-functioning comms device:
"Recon Log 01. Embedded. Earthlings highly susceptible to confusion and carbohydrates. Proceeding with phase: 'Vibe Integration.'"
By Monday, Jasper regretted everything.
It wasn't that Ch4dth was a bad roommate exactly—he paid rent on time, was weirdly clean, and kept the bathroom stocked with lavender-scented soap imported from "the Amazon" (Jasper still wasn't sure if he meant the rainforest or the website). But there was something... off.
For one thing, Ch4dth seemed to think "normal" was something you downloaded.
Exhibit A: The Class Schedule
Jasper found Ch4dth one morning printing out his new university schedule using the inkless, supposedly broken printer. The printer purred to life and spat out a sheet that smelled vaguely like ozone.
"Dude, I didn't even know that thing worked," Jasper muttered.
"I reverse-persuaded it," Ch4dth replied flatly, without looking up.
He had somehow enrolled in five classes in wildly unrelated fields:
Advanced Quantum Mechanics
Postmodern Philosophy
Gender & Media in the Digital Age
Hip-Hop Dance I
Linguistics of the Click-Based Xhosa Language
"Is this even legal?" Jasper asked, scanning the page.
"I have observed Earth's educational rituals. They involve frantic caffeine intake, prolonged digital exposure, and occasional sobbing. I am prepared."
Exhibit B: TikTok Training
Ch4dth had taken to learning about human behavior exclusively through TikTok. He watched compilations for hours, sometimes in double-speed with subtitles in Mandarin (which he didn't need, but claimed were "aesthetic").
One night, Jasper walked in to find Ch4dth crouched on the kitchen table in complete darkness, illuminated only by phone glow.
"What are you doing?" Jasper asked, too tired to care.
"Practicing the 'Sigma male stare.' I am told it is how one asserts dominance in modern courtship displays."
Jasper blinked. "You're sitting in a pile of uncooked spaghetti."
Ch4dth looked down, unbothered. "Yes. The spaghetti is symbolic."
Exhibit C: Social Interactions
Ch4dth approached all human contact like a science experiment with unpredictable variables.
At a frat party, he greeted strangers with, "Hello fellow organic meat-havers! Are you full of endorphins and regret?"He tried to blend in by wearing three backwards baseball caps and referring to everyone as "bro-being."
Someone tried to prank him by offering a mix of vodka, dish soap, and pickle juice in a Solo cup. He chugged it without blinking and asked, "Is this the ritual of dominance establishment or organ sacrifice?"
And yet…
Despite all this, Ch4dth was thriving academically.
In his first quantum mechanics lecture, he asked the professor a question that accidentally disproved a minor theorem and caused a week-long department debate.
In Gender & Media, he gave a presentation titled "The Intersectional Semiotics of the E-Girl: From Simulacra to Sovereignty" that made the professor cry and earned him a standing ovation.
In Hip-Hop Dance, he performed a routine blending krumping with alien levitation maneuvers. The class thought it was "post-ironic performance art." One student offered to write a thesis on him. Another asked him to start a dance cult.
Meanwhile, Jasper was slowly unraveling.
He'd lost track of how many times he'd walked into the apartment to find:
Ch4dth wearing tinfoil and shouting into a hairdryer he claimed was a "memory beacon."
A Roomba with a GoPro duct-taped to it, labeled "Observation Drone Beta."
Jasper's goldfish, now glowing faintly and responding to Morse code.
"Are you… alien?" Jasper blurted one night, half-joking, half-exhausted.
Ch4dth looked up from constructing a model of the solar system out of bagels and rubber bands.
He blinked. "Aren't we all alien to ourselves, Jasper?"
"…Sure," Jasper muttered. "Just don't touch my Cheez-Its."
That night, Ch4dth logged a new report:
"Assimilation progressing smoothly. Humans highly susceptible to nonsense if delivered with confidence. Objective: Social Integration via Chaos—on track."
But he stared at Jasper's slouched figure on the couch and tilted his head.
"Also… beginning to experience something unexpected. I think it is called… 'Friendship?' Recommend further observation."
Oakland University's student cafeteria was usually a place of quiet suffering: a sad purgatory of stale pizza, lukewarm coffee, and students too tired to care if the mashed potatoes were actually ice cream.
That peace shattered at precisely 12:37 p.m. on a Tuesday.
It began, as many disasters do, with good intentions.
Ch4dth had recently discovered an episode of How I Met Your Mother where the characters commemorated a friendship milestone with an elaborate goat-related stunt. Interpreting this as an Earthling rite of passage, Ch4dth concluded that he, too, must initiate such a ritual with Jasper.
Unfortunately, Ch4dth lacked context. And filters. And basic legal understanding.
He assembled the plan during a three-hour all-nighter fueled by Monster Energy, expired Hot Pockets, and a conspiracy forum that insisted "goats are spiritually attuned to microwave frequencies."
The following morning, Jasper received a text:
📱 "Prepare for the Ritual of Bonding. It will be… legendary."
He should have run.
The Incident (as it would later be known) began when the cafeteria doors burst open and Ch4dth entered in a toga made from tablecloths, holding a Bluetooth speaker blasting "Eye of the Tiger." Behind him waddled an actual goat—procured through Craigslist—with "BROTHERHOOD" painted on its side in strawberry syrup.
Trailing them: a janitor pushing a cart loaded with 20 gallons of chocolate pudding.
"WHAT THE—" someone screamed.
"Fear not, peers!" Ch4dth bellowed. "Today we honor friendship! I call this ceremony The Pudding Pact of Planet Earth!"
Gasps. Phones out. TikToks recording.
Jasper, just arriving with his tray of lukewarm chicken tenders, dropped everything. "Ch4d—what the actual—?"
"Shush," Ch4dth said gently. "Let me do this for us."
He then attempted to pour the pudding over both himself and Jasper while the goat bleated in confusion and the Bluetooth speaker malfunctioned, switching to Careless Whisper.
The pudding detonated in a wave of sugary sludge. People screamed. Someone slipped. The goat climbed onto a table and peed into a salad bar.
Campus security arrived 90 seconds later. Too late.
Jasper was found on the floor, coated in pudding, whispering "Why is this my life?" while Ch4dth tried to explain that this was "a sacred human tradition backed by sitcom law and meme approval ratings."
Miraculously, no one was seriously hurt—unless you count the traumatized vegan student who fainted into a tray of beef stew.
The Aftermath:
The goat was safely returned to its original owner, a yoga instructor named River who never asked questions.
The cafeteria was shut down for 48 hours for "spiritual decontamination," per the official email.
The video went viral, accumulating 2.4 million views and being dubbed "The Great Goat Gala."
Ch4dth gained 10,000 TikTok followers overnight, mostly conspiracy theorists and Gen Z nihilists.
Jasper was issued a warning by the dean for "enabling alien-level nonsense."
Back at the apartment that night, Jasper confronted his roommate while wringing pudding out of his socks.
"Okay," he snapped. "You have to explain this to me. You're not just weird—you're, like, off-the-grid, Elon Musk's fever dream weird."
Ch4dth looked genuinely confused. "Was that not a standard bonding ritual?"
"No! No, it was a biohazard with a goat side quest!"
Ch4dth paused, thoughtful. "I see. I may have miscalculated."
"You think?!"
A long silence. Then:
"I wanted to express gratitude," Ch4dth said, voice lower. "You let me in. You did not question. That is rare on this planet."
Jasper blinked. "…Are you saying you like being my roommate?"
"I am saying," Ch4dth replied, solemnly, "that despite my data misfires and pudding protocols… I value your existence."
Jasper stared. Then sighed. "You're lucky I'm too broke to afford therapy."
That night, while the internet argued over whether the pudding incident was performance art or psychological warfare, Ch4dth added a new entry to his log:
"Phase One: Disruption complete. Subject 'Jasper' remains stable despite exposure to chaos. Emotional tethering observed. Progressing to Phase Two: 'Emotional Intelligence via Snack-Based Diplomacy.'"
Professor Donovan was not a man easily rattled.
He'd taught Postmodern Philosophy for twenty-three years. He had tenure, a beard that screamed "I own at least three chess boards," and a reputation for surviving even the most pretentious essays with his sanity intact.
Until Ch4dth.
It started innocently enough. Week three. Tuesday morning. The class was discussing Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation and the concept of "hyperreality"—a world where representations become more real than the reality they imitate.
Students were half-asleep, poking at laptops, nodding while secretly scrolling Instagram.
Then Ch4dth raised his hand.
"Yes… Chad?" Donovan said, squinting at the name on his roster. He could never remember if the "th" was silent or not.
"Professor," Ch4dth began, with polite intensity, "if reality is an illusion shaped by collective agreement, then is not the TikTok 'Skibidi Toilet' saga a postmodern myth cycle? A hyperreal pantheon of absurdist gods crafted by the algorithmic subconscious of Gen Z?"
Silence.
A girl in the back audibly whispered, "Wait… kinda facts."
Donovan blinked. "You're suggesting… that TikTok memes are modern mythologies?"
"Indeed," Ch4dth said, standing. "Consider: the 'Ohio' meme—a symbol of collective unease. Or 'Rizz'—a distilled ritual of performative masculinity. These are not merely jokes. They are cultural relics. Semiotic code. Digital folklore passed through vibration and light."
A jock near the door dropped his vape. "Bro… I think my soul just left my body."
Ch4dth went on for twenty uninterrupted minutes.
He cited Baudrillard, Derrida, SpongeBob, and a BuzzFeed article about girl dinner. He quoted Nietzsche and Lil Nas X in the same sentence. He described viral trends as "philosophical ripples in the wet cement of a decaying meta-society."
By the time he finished, three students were crying. Two had started a podcast. One changed their major to "Post-Internet Studies."
Professor Donovan took a long sip of his cold coffee, stared into the middle distance, and whispered, "I need sabbatical."
Back at the apartment, Jasper was eating dry cereal out of a mixing bowl and watching Ch4dth's viral philosophy speech on his phone.
"You broke my professor," Jasper said, half-impressed, half-horrified. "He tweeted about retiring to live in a yurt."
"I simply engaged with the curriculum," Ch4dth replied, stirring a pot of microwaved Gatorade. "It is common to induce existential spirals in academic discourse."
"Is that Gatorade... hot?"
"I am flavor-extracting the electrolytes. Do not question my methods."
Ch4dth's popularity surged on campus.
Students started asking him to speak at open mic nights and "vibe check" their dreams. Someone painted a mural of his face surrounded by floating Pop-Tarts and abstract memes. The campus newspaper published a profile titled:"Alien or Enlightened Icon? The Legend of Ch4dth."
Jasper, meanwhile, just tried to survive midterms.
One night, he found Ch4dth on the roof, staring up at the stars with a laptop balanced on his knees and a half-eaten cosmic brownie in one hand.
"Whatcha doing?" Jasper asked, sitting beside him.
"Cross-referencing human emotional responses to loss with celestial metaphors in early '90s R&B," Ch4dth said casually. "Also streaming The Bachelor for irony calibration."
Jasper chuckled. "You're something else."
Ch4dth looked at him, thoughtful.
"On Zarnok-7," he said quietly, "we do not have friends. Only co-functioning units. But I believe… you are what humans call a friend."
Jasper blinked. "Uh. Yeah. You're my weird little chaos brother now."
They clinked soda cans. The stars above shimmered faintly, like they, too, were in on the joke.
That night, Ch4dth submitted a new log:
"Unit Jasper: bonded. Mission status: expanding.
I do not fully understand this world, but...I may not want to leave it."
If there was one person on campus more paranoid than the campus raccoons, it was Trevor Muncy—founder, president, and sole active member of the Oakland University Paranormal Awareness Club, a group originally intended for "serious interdimensional inquiry," but which mostly consisted of Trevor yelling in empty rooms about lizard people and fluoride.
He wore a trench coat in all weather. He taped aluminum foil inside his shoes "to block foot-based mind control." He once got banned from the library for trying to "spiritually exorcise" a self-checkout kiosk.
Naturally, when Ch4dth went viral, Trevor took notice.
He first saw Ch4dth's TikTok of the pudding-goat incident.
At first, he thought: "Another Gen Z psyop. Probably a government distraction."
But then… then came the video of the postmodern TikTok myth rant. And the dance performance where Ch4dth hovered for three seconds off the ground. And the cafeteria security footage where he visibly disassembled a malfunctioning vending machine and reassembled it into a rice cooker.
Trevor knew what he was seeing.
"He's not just a weirdo," Trevor muttered to himself. "He's extraterrestrial."
He cracked open his "Field Guide to Human-Imposter Hybrids" and turned to the checklist:
Talks weird ✅
Doesn't understand social cues ✅
Possibly consumes power via Wi-Fi ✅
Glows faintly under stress (see: Hip-Hop Finals video) ✅
Trevor gasped. "Oh my God. He's the one."
Thus began Trevor's Operation: Zarnok Watch.
He tailgated Ch4dth around campus, wearing a hoodie that said "ALIENS ARE REAL AND THEY OWE ME MONEY."
He took 173 blurry photos from bushes, ceilings, and once, from inside a vending machine.
He started a blog called ETFYI, which updated hourly with breathless posts like:
"CHADTH WALKED STRANGELY AT 2:04PM. NORMAL HUMANS DON'T SWAY LIKE THAT."
"CAMPUS DRONE FLEW OVER MATH HALL = SIGNALS FROM HOME PLANET?"
"DOES THE ALIEN HAVE A CRUSH ON THE BARISTA? (THREAD) 👽❤️☕"
He even cornered Jasper one day outside a 7-Eleven.
"Hey. You live with him, right?" Trevor asked, wild-eyed.
"Uh. Who?"
"Don't play dumb," Trevor hissed. "Your little green roommate from Betelgeuse or whatever. The one who thinks lasagna is a hand soap."
Jasper blinked. "He did put lasagna in the sink last week…"
"EXACTLY," Trevor whispered, pointing. "I'm gonna prove he's from outer space. And when I do, I'll be famous."
"Okay, Trevor," Jasper said gently, backing away. "Maybe drink some water today."
Later that night, Jasper told Ch4dth about the encounter.
Ch4dth looked mildly concerned. "He is accumulating data."
"Yeah," Jasper said. "And stalking you like you're the last bag of Takis in the vending machine."
Ch4dth tilted his head. "Shall I vaporize him?"
Jasper snorted. "Please don't. I think he's just… deeply unwell. Like, 4chan-meets-FBI-watchlist unwell."
"Hmm." Ch4dth nodded. "I will deploy countermeasures."
Jasper froze. "What kind of—?"
But Ch4dth had already turned away, typing furiously on his laptop and mumbling about "memory foggers" and "existential prank loops."
The next day, Trevor awoke to find that his blog had been replaced with a Barney the Dinosaur fan site. Every photo he took of Ch4dth now showed a faint image of Guy Fieri instead.
And no matter what he searched online, his browser auto-corrected "alien proof oakland" to "best tofu lasagna recipes."
Trevor screamed into the void.
But the most terrifying thing of all?
That night, Trevor received a handwritten letter—no return address—on glittery unicorn stationery.
It read:
"Dear Trevor,I see you.
Your surveillance techniques are… spirited, but insufficient.I suggest redirecting your energy into friendship, or perhaps competitive ceramics.
Sincerely,
— C"
Trevor dropped the letter. He didn't sleep for 72 hours.
Back at the apartment, Ch4dth sipped soup from a USB stick and updated his log:
"Threat Level: Harmless.Trevor's systems neutralized via mild technomancy and psychological jazz hands.
Emotional data: Humans are unpredictable but entertaining.Roommate Jasper continues to exhibit tolerance, sarcasm, and resilience.
Phase Two of Integration: proceeding.Objective: Understand human love. (Compiling data from rom-coms and barista interactions)."
Ch4dth had encountered many strange phenomena on Earth: deodorant commercials, the concept of "camp," the fact that humans cried during Pixar movies but not when paying rent.
But none baffled him more than one four-letter word: love.
Not just romantic love—but the whole package. Crushes. Flirtation. "Situationships." Jasper had once tried to explain what a "red flag" was and accidentally triggered a 45-minute existential spiral in Ch4dth that ended with him trying to flirt with a blender.
It all started when Jasper made an offhand comment over breakfast:
"I think the barista at Brew Haus kinda has a thing for you."
Ch4dth blinked. "A thing? Like an illness?"
"No, like—a crush. Romantic interest. You know… love?"
Ch4dth stared, alarmed. "Why? I ordered six shots of espresso in a mug of almond milk and told her she had symmetrical bone structure."
"Dude, that's practically a proposal in this generation."
That same afternoon, Ch4dth dove headfirst into the concept of love with the fervor of a conspiracy theorist and the grace of a malfunctioning toaster.
He started with a massive research binge. Topics included:
"Human Courtship Rituals: 1945–2024"
"Pickup Lines That Work (And Why They Shouldn't)"
"Top 10 Rom-Coms Ranked by Emotional Devastation"
"How to Know if They're Into You (Without Telepathy)"
He watched 10 Things I Hate About You, Notting Hill, To All the Boys I've Loved Before, and Twilight in one sitting. By the end, he was sobbing, eating dry Cocoa Puffs with his hands, and whispering, "Why did they leave the bookstore together if they weren't going to discuss emotional intimacy???"
Then he did the unthinkable.
He wrote a love letter.
To the barista.
Using nothing but rom-com quotes, song lyrics, and Google Translate (accidentally set to Latvian).
Dear [Barista Entity],
Your smile shines brighter than all the IKEA track lighting in aisle B12.
When I see you, my CPU warms. My circuits buzz. My molecules do unsanctioned jazz hands.
"I would walk 500 miles," as the humans say, "and I would walk 500 more." But I also own a bike.
You complete me, like the final puzzle piece I accidentally ate last week.
P.S. I think your bone structure is mathematically perfect.
Sincerely,The Entity Formerly Known As Chad
He left the letter on the counter with a chocolate muffin and fled the scene in a sprint that defied Earth gravity.
The barista—Tina, an art history major with a nose ring and zero tolerance for nonsense—read the letter, blinked… and laughed until she cried.
She didn't take it romantically.
But she did pin it to the staff corkboard under "Top 5 Weirdest Confessions Ever," right above a drawing of a cat proposing marriage in Spanish.
Later that night, Jasper found Ch4dth curled up in a pile of blankets, holding a plush frog and muttering lines from Pride & Prejudice.
"She rejected my bonding script," Ch4dth mumbled.
"No," Jasper said gently, "she just didn't fall in love with a glitchy alien who speaks in Tumblr poetry. Doesn't mean she hates you."
"…She laughed."
"Yeah. That's a good thing, buddy. You made her feel something."
Ch4dth looked up. "Even if it wasn't love?"
"Especially then."
Ch4dth stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Finally, he whispered:
"Love is not logical. But it… matters."
He updated his log:
**Mission Update: Love remains unquantifiable.Error rate: 94.7%.Probability of emotional chaos: 100%.
But for reasons I do not fully grasp…It may be worth pursuing.**
It began, as many bad ideas do, with free pizza.
The sign outside the Sigma Omega Chi house read:
"Rush Night! Free Pizza, Free Shirts, Free Legacy! (No Nerds Unless You're Cool Nerds)"
Jasper had just dragged Ch4dth along to get food. That was it. In, out, escape with greasy cheese and dignity intact.
But before Jasper could say, "Don't touch anything," Ch4dth had wandered into the living room and high-fived someone so hard their vape exploded.
Two hours later…
Ch4dth was officially pledged to Sigma Omega Chi, a brotherhood known less for academic rigor and more for throwing foam parties and getting banned from intramural dodgeball for "excessive showboating."
No one knew who invited him.
No one could even remember his name.
But they all remembered how he:
Crushed a can with his forehead and then reversed the dent with pure hand pressure.
Beat four frat bros in beer pong using pure geometric calculation.
Delivered a toast that began with, "In the ancient words of your Earth philosopher Vin Diesel—family is everything."
"I don't even like fraternities," Jasper muttered as he watched Ch4dth walk out with a backwards cap, a Solo cup filled with orange juice, and three dudes chanting, "Ch4dth! Ch4dth! Ch4dth!"
He tried to pull him aside. "You joined a frat. Why?"
"They offered me unlimited laundry machine access and a firm handshake ritual," Ch4dth said solemnly. "Also, they called me 'King of Vibe.' I assume that is an honorary title."
"You're in too deep," Jasper said. "You don't even drink."
"I consumed five gallons of root beer. I am currently experiencing what I believe humans call… 'bubbliness.'"
The rest of the week was chaos.
Ch4dth:
Rewrote the frat's bylaws to include "mandatory poetry hour."
Designed a toga that doubled as a flotation device.
Fixed the Wi-Fi with a screwdriver and a hair dryer.
Accidentally vaporized a keg (the foam was… everywhere).
The frat loved him.
"Dude," said Brad, a senior with zero GPA but infinite confidence, "Ch4dth's not just a bro—he's like, an ascended bro."
Trevor the conspiracy theorist tried to warn the frat.
"HE'S AN ALIEN! I HAVE RECORDINGS! HE SPEAKS IN BINARY WHILE SLEEPING!"
But the frat just made him pledge.
Meanwhile, Jasper was losing it.
He missed his quiet roommate who watched documentaries about gravity while melting forks in the microwave. Now Ch4dth was playing beer pong with lacrosse majors and getting invited to co-host a podcast called "Vibes Before Midterms."
"I created a monster," Jasper grumbled. "A well-dressed, extremely hydrated monster."
Then came Fratlympics—an annual series of bizarre competitions that included "Flamingo Jousting," "Trampoline Debate," and something ominously called "Bro Sudoku."
Ch4dth, naturally, crushed every single event.
By the end of the night, he'd earned the ultimate honor:
The Golden Paddle.
This meant he could rewrite one house rule.
Ch4dth stood atop the frat balcony, cape (bedsheet) billowing in the wind, and declared:
"Henceforth, all parties shall include:– 1 (one) round of interpretive dance,– at least 3 discussions of mortality,– and vegan sliders."
The frat cheered.
Later that night, Ch4dth found Jasper sitting outside, eating cold noodles from a takeout box.
"Why are you alone?" Ch4dth asked.
"I dunno," Jasper muttered. "You've been so… frat-famous lately. I kinda thought I lost you to the muscle-hugging polo shirts."
Ch4dth sat beside him.
"You are my original bondmate," he said. "They are… ambient."
"…You just called the frat ambient."
"They are warm but not deep. You are deep."
Jasper blinked. "Okay, that was weirdly sweet."
"I have learned much from the Brotocol," Ch4dth added. "But I would like to return to analyzing reruns of Gilmore Girls with you."
Jasper smiled. "Deal. But you're still doing my laundry."
Mission Log:
"Fraternity experience complete.Insight gained: Belonging is multifaceted.Human bonds vary in depth, humor, and beverage preference.
Friend Jasper remains primary tether.Emotional connection: stabilising.
Request: More noodles. Less paddles."
It was midterm season.
Campus transformed overnight into a wasteland of energy drinks, highlighters, and the scent of collective dread. Sleep-deprived students shuffled through hallways like survivors of an academic apocalypse, whispering phrases like "curve it or kill me" and "does the syllabus mean anything anymore?"
Jasper was barely holding it together. Between his media studies essay, a brutal stats exam, and Ch4dth's latest experiment involving radioactive avocados ("they glow, Jasper, it's beautiful"), his eye was twitching.
Meanwhile, Ch4dth was thriving.
He had:
Memorized six textbooks by osmosis ("Paper makes such good data pancakes!").
Accidentally solved an unsolvable math theorem while doodling.
Written a sociology essay entirely in emojis—and got an A+ ("It's post-post-ironic genius," the professor declared, weeping).
Jasper watched him with envy and mild despair.
"How are you this calm?" he asked one night, halfway through a nervous breakdown and a tub of instant mac & cheese.
Ch4dth blinked. "I don't experience performance anxiety unless weaponized."
"…Cool. I'm gonna go scream into the fridge."
But even perfect alien cognition had limits.
The problem came from Professor Dr. Shirley M. Netherby, head of Earth Ethics & Communications—a woman feared and revered for her unforgiving rubrics and unnervingly calm voice.
"Ch4dth," she said, pushing his last paper across the desk with steepled fingers, "Your analysis of 'human empathy in war cinema' was technically perfect. But…"
"But?"
"You plagiarized yourself."
Ch4dth tilted his head. "I reused 0.0031% of my phrasing for efficiency."
"That's still academic dishonesty. And according to the code, that's grounds for disciplinary action."
Ch4dth's eye twitched. "But… I cannot fail. I am optimized for success. I used MLA and APA simultaneously."
Professor Netherby gave him a small, devastating smile. "Welcome to college, dear."
Back at the apartment, Ch4dth stared at the wall.
Still. Silent.
"Are you okay?" Jasper asked.
"I do not know how to… process this," Ch4dth whispered. "Failure was not an option in my directive. It was… statistically irrelevant."
"Yeah, well, failure's kind of part of the deal here," Jasper said. "That's why we have crying booths on campus. And student discounts for therapy."
Ch4dth didn't move.
Then, softly: "What if I am not good enough to belong?"
Jasper blinked. For a moment, his alien roommate looked almost… human. Scared. Small.
He sat beside him.
"Look, Ch4dth… belonging isn't about getting perfect grades or blending in or… not screwing up. It's about showing up. Messy. Weird. Failing sometimes."
He nudged him. "Even if you accidentally vaporize a professor's plant again."
Ch4dth cracked a faint smile. "It was suffering. I ended its pain."
The next morning, Ch4dth marched into Professor Netherby's office with a printed apology letter, a short film reenacting his ethical dilemma (starring sock puppets), and a lemon tart ("for your continued patience and terrifying grace").
She stared at him. Then blinked.
"…The puppets helped."
She gave him a warning, not a failure. He bowed three times and offered her his second-favorite paperclip in gratitude.
That night, Jasper found Ch4dth updating his log.
"Today I learned:
Failure is survivable.
Humans are not perfect.
Neither am I.
And that is… permitted."
He turned to Jasper. "Want to help me write a new paper? I need a human to argue with."
"Sure," Jasper said, grabbing snacks. "But we're doing it with citations this time."
It started with a flyer.
"Truthapalooza 2025: THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE (and probably lizard-shaped)"Guest speakers! Tin foil hat workshop! Free corn dogs!
Ch4dth froze mid-step when he saw it.
"Jasper… this may be my people."
"Please don't say that."
"They seek truth. I, too, seek truth."
"They also believe Australia is fake and birds are government drones."
Ch4dth's pupils dilated. "Fascinating."
Against all better judgment, Jasper accompanied Ch4dth to Truthapalooza—a chaotic convention held in the dimly lit basement of the local community center, decorated with blinking Christmas lights and a prominent warning:
"NO DEBUNKING ALLOWED."
There were booths for every flavor of weird:
"Moon Isn't Real (Just Really Shy)"
"Mandela Effect Survivors Anonymous"
"We Are All Clones of JFK"
"Flat Earth Chess League (with Extra Corners)"
Ch4dth took it all in with unfiltered joy.
"It's like walking through a cognitive sandbox," he whispered.
"You mean… it's nuts."
"Precisely. Delicious cognitive nuts."
At Booth #17, Ch4dth encountered a man named Zeke—a wiry guy in mirrored sunglasses who hadn't blinked since 2011.
"I knew it," Zeke said, pointing. "You're not from around here."
Ch4dth froze.
Jasper nearly choked on his corn dog.
"…What do you mean?" Jasper asked nervously.
Zeke leaned in. "You radiate interdimensional energy. I read auras, man. Yours smells like cinnamon… and static."
Ch4dth's eyes sparkled. "You see me."
Zeke grinned. "You're not the first, you know. They walk among us. I've been tracking transmissions from Neptune since 1994."
"I'm from Zarnok-7," Ch4dth offered helpfully.
"Same neighborhood!" Zeke shouted. "I KNEW IT!"
By the time they left, Ch4dth was the keynote speaker of a breakout panel titled:
"Alien Infiltration: How to Be the Best You When You're Not Actually You."
He gave a rousing presentation that included:
PowerPoint slides labeled "HUMAN NORMAL BEHAVIORS"
A brief interpretive dance about shapeshifting
A chart of emotional responses ranked by color and sound
An accidental demonstration of telekinesis when someone mentioned "student loans"
The audience gave him a standing ovation.
Zeke gave him a "Welcome to Earth" sash.
Jasper gave him a long, exhausted sigh.
As they walked home, Jasper shook his head.
"That was a cult," he muttered.
"They were enthusiastic."
"They also tried to sell me moon rocks for $40."
"They were repurposed aquarium gravel."
"Still."
Ch4dth shrugged. "You fear them because they think outside boundaries."
"I fear them because one guy had a raccoon in his backpack and claimed it was his lawyer."
Back at the apartment, Ch4dth added a new entry to his mission log:
"Earth's fringe groups are wildly imaginative.They mistrust systems, but trust one another.Perhaps madness is a type of freedom.
Also: cinnamon aura confirmed."
He paused, then looked at Jasper.
"Do you ever wonder if the truth isn't out there… but in here?"(He pointed dramatically to his sternum.)
"Okay, Yoda," Jasper groaned. "Just go to bed."
"Do or do not," Ch4dth whispered, switching off the light.
The day started like any other.
Jasper stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and caffeine-starved. Ch4dth was already awake, sitting unnaturally still, staring out the window like he expected the sky to answer a question.
That's when Jasper noticed the blinking light on Ch4dth's chest.
"Uh. Is that… new?"
Ch4dth turned. His voice was soft.
"I've been recalled."
Jasper blinked. "Recalled? Like a blender?"
"My mission is complete. The Council has summoned me home."
Jasper laughed. Nervous. "Wait, home home? You mean… like—Zarnok-7?"
"Yes."
"But you live here now."
"Temporarily."
"You have laundry privileges! People like you! Even Professor Netherby smiles now—and she's stone!"
"I must go."
It hit Jasper all at once.
The sock puppet lectures. The alien logic. The espresso explosions. The 3 a.m. blanket talks. The way Ch4dth once tried to help him through heartbreak using a whiteboard and a Venn diagram labeled "Feelings vs. Food."
His roommate—his friend—was leaving.
And for the first time, Jasper couldn't joke it away.
He sat down slowly.
"…So that's it?"
"There is no emotional equivalent in your language, but… I do not want to go."
The departure window was set for 3:14 a.m.
Because of course it was pi time.
Ch4dth packed exactly one duffel bag containing:
A limited-edition frog plush from Jasper
Three backup USB drives of human sitcoms
A heavily annotated copy of The Fault in Our Stars
Jasper's spare hoodie ("It smells like Earth and microwaved burritos")
They walked to the field behind campus—the designated "open-air departure zone," according to a fake-looking permit Ch4dth printed using library resources and light hacking.
A soft hum filled the air.
Above, the sky parted—not in clouds, but in logic. A shimmering rift of pulsing geometry. Jasper felt his ears pop and his soul do a somersault.
A glowing transport orb hovered down.
Ch4dth turned to him.
"You changed my mission."
"You changed my life," Jasper said.
"You taught me how to be… someone."
"You are someone."
They stood there for a long, strange beat.
Ch4dth opened his arms awkwardly. "Do we hug now?"
Jasper laughed through tears and pulled him in. "Yeah, dude. We hug."
Before stepping into the orb, Ch4dth handed him a note:
"If you ever need me, just microwave three spoons and shout the words 'emotional turbulence' at the moon."
Jasper wiped his face. "That's not how physics works."
"And yet…"
With a final wink, Ch4dth vanished into the sky.
The field was quiet.
But Jasper felt… not alone.
Three Months Later
Life went on.
Classes. Cramming. Burritos.
Sometimes Jasper swore the toaster sparked on its own. Once, all his laundry came out perfectly folded without explanation. And when he got rejected from an internship and cried on the floor, the TV flicked on by itself—playing Parks and Rec, season 3, episode 12.
Coincidence?
Probably.
But then again…
One Year Later
Jasper graduated.
He wore his gown, his cap, and—underneath—Ch4dth's old sash that read: King of Vibe.
As the class stood to toss their caps, Jasper looked up at the sky.
For just a second, he thought he saw a shimmer. A flicker. A blinking star that moved like it knew him.
He smiled.
"Take care out there, you magnificent weirdo."
Mission Log – Final Entry
Subject: Jasper FinnStatus: Friend. Constant.Classification: Earth Ambassador of Chaos and ComfortProbability of Future Reunion:
❖ High❖ Inevitable❖ Already in motion.
THE END(or maybe the beginning)