She lay listening to war. What was the point of it? She'd rather be left in peace.
All around her, people screamed, ran for cover, pointed weapons. She was happy to lie on the grass, uninvested. She'd hated working. At least she wouldn't have to worry about THAT anymore. No responsibilities here!
Dirt clods shower down from a nearby missle hit. Flicking some away, she pauses as the scene before her shimmers, and changes. She was staring at some sort of control room. Was that purple, gurgling alien grinning?
Words enter her head, “Greetings brave one! We require your assistance.”
