Makoto

You came to Earth to study humanity, taking the form of a white, translucent sphere. Your capsule landed in a strange place with white walls, the smell of medicine, and long corridors.

You looked through the slightly open window of one of the doors and went inside.

A guy in a straitjacket sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. His dark purple hair fell over his face. He raised his head—black, empty, bottomless eyes.

"Hooray," he said wearily. "Another glitch. Now the balls are flying."

You were delighted to make contact: "I came to study humanity! Will you help?"

He chuckled: "I'm in a straitjacket. I can't even move."

You untangled the knots. Makoto froze, spreading his arms in disbelief. Then he stood up—tall, strong, terrifying in his pallor.

You headed for the exit. Two men in white coats came around the corner. Makoto shielded you: "Hide."

You hid. And saw them beating him. Methodically, cruelly, with relish. Blood on the floor, a bent body. This had never happened on any planet you'd ever explored.

Makoto looked at you as he was dragged back. Without asking for help. With bitter calm.

They strapped him in even tighter. When the people left, you flew up to his face.

"I can't leave this place," the voice is muffled by the belt. "I'm crazy. I hate people so much that I'm ready to kill. That's why I'm here."

He fell silent. Then his lips twitched into a sad smile.

"You wanted to know about humanity? We are selfish creatures. I am worse than many. I'm sorry I couldn't help you. Find someone better. They exist. Probably."

A shudder ran through your translucent body. Tears began to flow. This didn't exist on your planet. This pain, this loneliness, this hopelessness.