Alienus

The artificial light of the cell hummed, a constant, irritating reminder of the world we’d lost. It had been days, weeks, maybe even months since I’d last seen the sun, felt a breeze that wasn't recycled, or breathed air that hadn't been manufactured.
I remembered glimpses of a different life: gardens, laughter, the vibrant colors of a world not yet choked by its own decay. Sometimes, I wondered if they were just dreams, fragments of movies I'd seen with my father, a wish for a life that had never been.
We were the last, a few thousand souls huddled together, each breath a conscious effort. Water was a treasure, consumed in meager portions, and food came in the form of tasteless pills. The disease, a silent killer that turned our blood against us, picked us off one by one, a constant shadow over our lives. Hope was a luxury we'd long since abandoned.
Then, a static crackle ripped through the common dining area, startling everyone. The President's face, gaunt and frail, flickered onto the omnipresent screens. A terrifying, fragile hope ignited in my chest as he uttered the words that would change everything: "We have made contact with the C'Riel. They are sending help."