890 | Truth Not Fanatacism

890 | Students Stop Drinking Water Because of an Alien Book and Are Abducted

Chapter 1: Evelyn, Diesel, and Rev Discuss the Smelly Extreme Water Conservationists

Evelyn, Diesel, and Rev discuss the smelly extreme water conservationists as they stand in the school courtyard. The air in the common area thickens into a heavy, sour musk that clings to the midday heat. It feels like walking into a wall you can’t see.

Evelyn yanks the hem of her shirt over her nose. Her eyes water as the smell slams into her. “What is that?” she chokes out, voice muffled. “I’m seriously going to puke.”

She scans the courtyard for a logical source—a dumpster, a dead animal, a ruptured sewer line. Nothing. Just students drifting between benches and shade, pretending nothing is wrong while the stench keeps building.

Diesel stands beside her, hands in his pockets, expression somewhere between bored and clinical. He doesn’t even flinch. “That,” he says, “is the body odor of the extreme water conservationists.”

A cluster of students passes by them. Their hair hangs in greasy ropes, clothes streaked with sweat and grime. The smell rolls off them like heat.

“They stopped bathing to save water,” Diesel continues. “They think all water that goes down a drain disappears forever.”

Evelyn stares at them, stunned. Her brain scrambles for equations, cycles, anything to make sense of what she’s seeing. “Has anyone explained,” she says slowly, “that the same water has been used to shower people for thousands of years and hasn’t gone anywhere?” Her tone sharpens. “Do they think the planet is… leaking?”

Diesel shakes his head. “Saying that out loud would make them feel stupid. No one wants to risk hurt feelings.” He nods toward a flyer taped to a wall—SAVE EVERY DROP OR DIE. “Conservers also want to build covers over all the lakes and rivers so water doesn’t evaporate and ‘disappear forever.’”

In his mind, he pictures the world smothered under a giant tarp, every river sealed in a tube, the sky blocked out by fear.

Rev, who has been listening with growing agitation, finally can’t hold back. “That makes no sense,” he snaps. “Water evaporates, forms clouds, then falls back as rain. It’s the water cycle. It’s basic.”

“To you,” Diesel says quietly. “Don’t try to tell them that.” His voice drops as a few Smelly Conservers shuffle within earshot. “They’ll call you a cloud conspirator and have you arrested for attacking the Earth.”

Evelyn blinks. “Arrested. For… clouds.”

“Conservers have watched clouds form and then drift out of sight,” Diesel explains. “So they decided the clouds blow out into space. Their special little book says water rises when it evaporates.”

He pictures the book—small, leather‑bound, pages brittle from overuse. “They believe an ancient visitor from another world wrote it. In their minds, that book outranks physics.”

Rev stares at him, trying to find the line between satire and reality. There isn’t one.

Diesel keeps going, voice flat, like he’s reciting a case study. “According to them, the alien travels back to his home planet. Long trip. But he promises to return someday and make everything right with our water supply. Many Conservers think all the water on Earth is slowly drifting toward the sun. They expect the oceans to dry up in the next fifty years. And they’re just… waiting for someone else to fix it.”

Silence settles over the three of them.

Across the courtyard, a Conserver drops onto a bench. The students around him edge away, leaving an invisible ring of space. He sits in his own stink like it’s a badge of honor, eyes lifted toward the sky, waiting for a savior that never seems to land while rain clouds drift overhead and nobody bothers to look up.

Chapter 2: Rev, Diesel, and Evan Explain the Water Cycle and the Alien Book Beliefs

Rev, Diesel, and Evan explain the water cycle and the alien book beliefs as they observe the thirsty students. Heat shimmers above the pavement, turning the courtyard into a mirage.

“Evaporated water becomes rain and falls back to Earth,” Rev says, almost to himself. He can’t let it go. “Our water doesn’t just fly off into outer space.”

His voice tightens on the last word. The idea that so many people can unlearn the water cycle and replace it with a wish and a command makes his stomach twist.

Diesel leans against a pillar and watches the Conservers cluster together, their special books clutched like shields. “That line about rain,” he says, “isn’t in their old special book. So for them, it isn’t real. The book already contains all the information they think they need.”

He nods toward a group reading in a circle. “The book says water evaporates and rises. That’s it. They’re not interested in anything beyond that one fact.

“So they extrapolate. If vapor rises, it must be leaving Earth. It escapes into deep space, beyond human reach. Gone forever. The book also says that if enough people combine their wishing power, a mighty alien will come back, capture the lost water out there, and return it.”

Evan has been quiet, arms crossed, jaw tight. Finally, he snorts. “Aliens are more likely to come steal our water than give it back.”

He pictures a thirsty civilization staring at Earth like it’s a giant canteen, not a charity project.

Diesel nods slowly. “Some people do say the special alien was angry because humans mislabeled and tortured him. According to the book, he promised to take away something. Different translations argue about what he meant.”

He falls silent as a student passes by, gripping a worn copy of the book like it’s a lifeline. Devotion shines in the kid’s eyes.

“Most Conservers assume the helpful aliens will haul away our sinful plastic garbage and nuclear waste into the sun,” Diesel finishes.

Evan frowns. “No one stops to think the ‘invaders’ might decide to take our drinking water instead?”

“Labeling diverse aliens as invaders isn’t inclusive,” Diesel says, voice deadpan. Beneath the monotone, there’s a razor‑edge of sarcasm. “It’s easier to believe a benevolent being will fix everything than to face the mess we’ve made. So extreme water conservationists also ‘protect’ the reservoirs by not drinking water.”

Rev’s eyes widen. “That’s suicide. You can’t survive without water.” He runs quick survival timelines in his head—days without water, organ failure, collapse. His gaze flicks across the courtyard, half expecting people to drop.

“Nope,” Diesel says. A faint, bitter smile tugs at his mouth as he watches a Conserver pop open a can. “They drink grape juice. Soda. Tea, coffee.”

Chapter 3: Rev, Diesel, Evan, and Evelyn Debate Eternal Slavery and Contaminated Water

Rev, Diesel, Evan, and Evelyn debate eternal slavery and contaminated water while watching the conservationists hoard their fluids. Rev points at a student clutching a sticky bottle of bright red soda. “Those drinks are made from water,” he protests. “Why isn’t anyone telling them the truth?”

His voice comes out louder than he means. For a second, he wants to shout the molecular structure of H₂O into the reeking air until someone finally listens. But the guards at the edge of the courtyard, and the cameras above the doors, hold him in place.

Diesel watches a small group of Conservers huddle together, speaking in low tones, eyes darting. “Some Conservers even save their urine,” he says. “They don’t want that water to be ‘wasted.’ Anti‑water people think that if you drink water, you turn it into pee and lose it forever.”

He studies their faces, their absolute conviction. In their heads, every sip is a one‑way ticket to permanent loss, a tragic leak the planet can’t afford.

Evan steps closer, voice steady. “There’s a natural process that purifies contaminated water,” he says. “Evaporation, condensation, filtration. Nature’s been doing it forever.”

He imagines Earth as a giant, patient filter. These kids have traded that system for a cosmic disaster script.

“Conservers are long‑suffering,” Diesel continues. “They’re waiting for the return of an all‑powerful alien who will sweep away all polluted water. They believe they’ll be lifted into his spaceship while all the bad water and trash get sucked into the sun.” His tone stays flat, but there’s something cold behind it, some line he crossed inside himself a long time ago.

Evelyn jumps on the one angle that makes sense to her. “How much does this alien charge for his services?” she asks, voice sharp.

In her world, nobody does anything for free. There’s always a cost.

“No money,” Diesel says. “But Conservers agree to be his willing slaves for all eternity.”

Evelyn physically recoils, as if the words themselves hit her. “That’s the price?” she demands. “Eternal slavery? How do they not see this is a scam?”

She looks at the sunburned, grimy, thirsty students around them and doesn’t see saints. She sees victims.

Diesel scans the courtyard, eyes darkening. “Their little book contains all the Truth they think they’ll ever need,” he says. “They believe it’s virtuous to be closed‑minded and uninformed. Any new idea, any data that doesn’t match the alien scribbles, is labeled a conspiracy theory.”

He nods toward the administration building. “People who disagree with the Conservers’ beliefs are hunted down and arrested. The jails are full of ‘offensive’ Truth‑speakers.”

He doesn’t have to say the rest. In this society, the most dangerous thing you can carry isn’t a weapon.

It’s a fact.

Chapter 4: Diesel Explains the Power of Majority Belief and the Alien Spaceship to Rev, Evelyn, and Evan

Diesel explains the power of majority belief and the alien spaceship to Rev, Evelyn, and Evan as the crowd of students gathers. The courtyard fills slowly, like a tide of uniforms and worn shoes. Conservers drift together, backs straight, books in hand.

Rev watches them, chest tight. “They deserve to know,” he says quietly. “Their minds are full of false beliefs. Telling them the truth would be… kind.”

He imagines one conversation—just one—where someone calmly lays out the water cycle and the alien scam. Maybe that would be enough to crack the surface.

Diesel shifts his weight, eyes flicking toward a group of students who are obviously listening. “Modern society protects a citizen’s right to be wrong,” he murmurs. “But it’s illegal to try to make them right.”

He keeps his voice low. “Everyone has the right to be wrong or right. Conservers expect everyone else to pretend they’re right even when they’re not, so their feelings don’t get hurt.”

Rev exhales, a bitter laugh buried inside it. “So the foolish, who fool themselves, have to be fooled by other fools,” he says. He looks down at the cracked, thirsty ground. “People just keep assuming whatever they believe must be right—because no one is allowed to tell them they’re wrong.”

Diesel nods once. “When a majority believes the same lie, that lie becomes ‘Truth.’ What was wrong gets voted into reality.”

Evelyn frowns. “Why do they believe wishing will attract this alien to save them?” she asks. “How is a feeling supposed to pull a spaceship across space?”

“It’s written in their ancient book,” Diesel replies. He sees the book in his mind again: strange symbols, pages full of scribbled messages in an alien language. “They believe a majority belief has power—enough power to cancel out all opposing beliefs. So they’re trained to recruit more converts. More believers means stronger power to ‘protect’ Earth’s water.”

He shrugs. “Every rule is in that little book, encoded. But no one fully understands it. Different leaders argue over what it means. They can’t even agree on the details about their alien rescuer.”

Evan lowers his voice to a whisper. “Some of them say the aliens are already here,” he says, eyes scanning the faces around them. “Disguised as humans. Friends. Enemies. Both. They think it’s up to us to figure out who’s who.”

Diesel continues, tone steady. “Conservers believe the old alien will return soon in a ship that hovers in the sky,” he says. “Only the lightest Conservers can be lifted into it. The people who drink the least water weigh the least.”

He takes in the thin arms, hollow cheeks, too‑big clothes hanging on bones—starvation disguised as spiritual preparation.

Evelyn swallows, her own throat suddenly dry. “What happens to the water drinkers?” she asks.

Diesel looks up into the empty blue above them. “The aliens already built an invisible pipeline from Earth to their desert planet,” he says. “They plan to siphon all our water through it. The ones who get lifted will go with the alien savior and live happily ever after. The water drinkers stay behind.”

His voice drops. “And die of thirst.”

Chapter 5: The Dehydrated Conservationists Are Lifted Into the Metallic Alien Vessel

The dehydrated conservationists are lifted into the metallic alien vessel as Diesel, Evan, Evelyn, and Rev watch the sky warp. The sky doesn’t darken with storm clouds. It ripples.

At first, it just looks like hot air distortion, the kind that wobbles above asphalt. But then the distortion thickens, bending light into bright, shifting colors that slice across the noon sun.

A massive shape pushes through the shimmer—a metallic vessel, silent and impossible, hanging over the city as if gravity is just a rumor.

The Conservers see it first.

A ragged cheer erupts from the crowd. Their voices rasp and crack from dry throats, but the sound still rises, raw and wild. For them, this is proof. The book was right. Their suffering means something.

Diesel stands at the edge of the courtyard, hands jammed in his pockets, jaw clenched. The air around him hums, a low vibration he can feel in his teeth. In his mind, he traces an invisible line from the ship to the reservoirs, to the oceans—a pipeline he’s been warning about, now humming to life.

He wonders if the alien up there is anything like the savior the Conservers imagine, or if they are about to witness the cleanest theft in history.

“They’re floating,” Evelyn whispers.

Her eyes lock on the center of the crowd. The lightest Conservers—those who have starved themselves of water the longest—start to rise. At first, it’s subtle, shoes barely grazing the ground. Then the pull strengthens.

They drift upward like dandelion seeds, limbs limp, hair tangled and filthy, clothes sticking to their skin. Sunlight catches on oily foreheads, on the damp sheen of unwashed bodies.

Evan narrows his eyes at the ship’s gleaming hull. Somewhere behind that metal are the beings everyone keeps arguing about—friends, enemies, saviors, thieves.

He remembers what he said before: Aliens would more likely come to steal our water. Now, as the air crackles and the courtyard fills with a sharp, ozone bite that raises the hairs on his arms, that theory doesn’t feel like theory anymore.

In the ship’s growing shadow, the smell shifts. The thick human musk starts to thin, stripped away by the rushing air. The “smelly people” keep rising, faces transformed by relief and joy. They’re leaving behind what they believe is a doomed planet: bad water, sinful garbage, all of it.

Rev watches them go, heart sinking. The Truth‑speakers are still locked in cells. Now, with the Conservers leaving and the ship drinking the sky, the people who understand what’s happening are the ones trapped behind bars.

And the world they’re left with is about to run dry.

Chapter 6: The Invisible Pipeline Drains the Reservoir and Siphons Garbage into Space

The invisible pipeline drains the reservoir and siphons garbage into space while Evan, Evelyn, Diesel, and Rev witness the theft. The ship’s hum deepens, a sound that vibrates in Rev’s bones.

He turns toward the nearest reservoir. The surface, usually calm, starts to bulge upward—slow at first, then faster. The water stretches, thick and glassy, defying gravity.

This isn’t evaporation. It’s a direct pull.

An invisible pipeline locks onto the reservoir and starts to drink.

Diesel stands perfectly still, eyes fixed on the forming vortex. He thinks about the so‑called ancient visiting alien, the one who supposedly scribbled the messages in that little book.

The promise: I will come back and make things right.

The reality in front of him looks more like a harvest.

“Look,” Evan says, pointing.

Debris spins into the air along with the water—bottles, bags, broken plastic toys, clumps of dead plants. It’s more than trash. Clumps of soil rip free. Fish twist and vanish into the spiral. Even the air feels thinner, as if the very humidity is being pulled out of it.

“This isn’t just hauling garbage to the sun,” Evan says. “They’re taking everything.”

He wonders if any Conservers still believe this is mercy.

Evelyn tears her gaze away from the rising column of water and focuses on the thin shapes drifting toward the ship’s open bay. The Conservers look skeletal, their “long‑suffering” finally paying off with a one‑way ticket off-world.

They agreed to be willing slaves forever.

Now that “forever” has a docking bay.

She wonders if the real scam hasn’t even started yet.

The sour human smell fades, replaced by something cold and metallic. The air grows drier with every passing second. Rev feels a stab of guilt as he thinks of the Truth‑speakers crowded in local jails.

Those people tried to warn everyone.

Now they’re the only ones guaranteed to stay on this dying planet long enough to watch the oceans shrink—exactly like the book predicted.

But for a completely different reason.

Chapter 7: Evan, Evelyn, Diesel, and Rev Watch the Water Drinkers Be Left Behind

Evan, Evelyn, Diesel, and Rev watch the water drinkers be left behind as the alien ship prepares to depart Earth. The ship’s hum changes, smoothing into a low, almost musical vibration that buzzes in the roots of everyone’s teeth.

A circular hatch iris opens on the underside of the craft, spilling out a blinding, prismatic light. The Conservers scream and sob with joy. This is the glow their book promised—the sign that the alien has “returned to make all things right.”

Inside the ship, the lifted Conservers crowd around transparent viewports. Their gaunt faces press against the glass as they stare down at the shrinking world they’ve left behind. In their minds, the story is simple: they will “return with the alien savior to live happily ever after.”

On the cracked, dusty ground, Evan squints up into the glare. His lips are split. His tongue feels like sandpaper.

He hears his own past words echoing in his head: Aliens would more likely come back to steal our water.

Now the invisible pipeline pulses as the last murky gallons of the reservoir rip free. The reality hits him like a punch.

They didn’t come to heal anything.

They came to drain it.

He glances at his friends—Rev, Evelyn, Diesel. Their skin already looks dull and tight from the dry air. They are the water drinkers.

They are the ones being left behind.

Evelyn forces herself to look away from the light and study the ground. The plastic garbage still litters the shoreline. Rusting barrels of nuclear waste still squat near the emptying water.

The aliens don’t touch any of it.

“They never cared about cleaning up,” she murmurs. “They just wanted our water. And slaves.”

The ship keeps rising, taking the “willing slaves” with it, leaving behind the poison it promised to remove.

Diesel’s usual detachment cracks. He watches the ship glow brighter, the silhouettes of the Conservers fading into its core.

He thinks of the alien who wrote that book, who wrapped a harvest plan in promises and holy language. He thinks of the power of majority belief, now literally disappearing into the sky, leaving the minority to die with the truth.

Rev stares upward, not at clouds this time, but at the last glint of moisture vanishing into space. The people who once mocked him for talking about evaporation and rain now drift away in a beam of light.

“The foolish, who fooled themselves,” he says softly, “have finally been fooled by someone worse.”

Dust curls across the dry ground at his feet.

Chapter 8: A Student Reads the Alien Diagrams and Rebels Reverse the Pipeline to Shoot Waste to the Desert Planet

A student reads the alien diagrams and rebels reverse the pipeline to shoot waste to the desert planet after discovering the trap. Inside the hovering craft, everything is glassy metal and shifting light. The air feels thinner here, too—colder, sharper. Rows of Conservers shuffle through wide corridors, eyes wide, still high on the idea that they are the chosen ones.

One of them—smaller than the rest, clothes hanging off his frame—breaks away from the crowd.

He has spent his entire life obsessing over the alien script in the little book. Unlike most, he didn’t just memorize the human translation. He taught himself to read the original symbols.

Now, drawn by a quiet itch of curiosity, he slips through a half‑open door into a side chamber.

Dim light reveals shelves of alien tech. In the center of the room sits a heavy metallic volume, bigger than any book he’s ever seen. Its cover glows faintly with the same symbols that fill his childhood scriptures.

His hands shake as he opens it.

The pages aren’t poetry. They’re diagrams.

He scans the alien script, knowing enough of the language now to piece it together. Flow charts show planetary cross‑sections. Arrows mark extraction points. Tables list atmospheric thresholds. Human silhouettes appear in neat rows inside fenced enclosures.

Understanding slams into him.

The special alien doesn’t plan to save humanity.

He plans to move them to a dry world where their bodies will become part of a food chain.

“We’re being scammed!” the student screams.

His voice cracks in the quiet chamber. He bolts back into the main corridor, clutching the book like proof.

“We’re livestock!” he shouts. “This isn’t a rescue. It’s a farm!”

At first, the others stare at him, stunned. Their belief is a shield. But then he shoves the open pages in their faces—diagrams of the invisible pipeline, charts of water levels on two planets, sketches of holding pens labeled in letters he can now read.

The room erupts.

The neat lines of “willing slaves” shatter into a panicked mob. Some deny it. Some sob. Others, the ones who always doubted in secret, harden.

Survival burns away their blind faith.

They surge through the corridors, overwhelming the few alien overseers stationed there. The Conservers might be light from dehydration, but there are many of them, and they are desperate.

Long‑suffering turns into long‑buried rage.

They storm the bridge.

Screens show Earth shrinking below, the pipeline draining its veins. Another screen displays their destination: a desert planet scarred with old extraction sites.

“Find the controls,” someone shouts.

The boy who can read the script lunges toward a console, eyes flying across the symbols. He recognizes the glyphs for REVERSE, FLOW and SOURCE.

“Here!” he yells. “I can change it!”

Fingers flying, he punches in commands. The ship shudders.

Far below, the column of water stops rising.

Then it falls.

On Earth, empty reservoirs begin to swell again as stolen water slams back into them in thundering sheets. Clouds blossom in the sky as moisture rushes home.

On the bridge, the rebels don’t stop. Remembering the promise that the aliens would take away humanity’s trash, they reroute the intake systems.

“Not water,” the boy mutters, reading the options. “Waste.”

They flip valves, diverting the pipeline.

Across Earth, heaps of plastic, piles of garbage, and stockpiles of nuclear waste rip free from the ground and hurtle upward, vanishing into the invisible tube.

Far away, on the alien desert planet, a rain of human filth begins to fall.

The rebels watch the feed for a single, shocked second.

“Good,” someone says.

With one final series of commands, they overload the pipeline and blow it apart—the link between the two worlds snaps.

Silence crashes onto the bridge.

The Conservers stand there, chests heaving, no longer waiting for salvation. They turned their worship into mutiny.

Slowly, decisions form in the wreckage of their beliefs.

They will drink water again—without fear of turning it into “eternal pee.” They will stop letting one “ancient, special little book” be the only voice they hear.

They will read other books.

And when they land, they will work with everyone—even the Truth‑speakers they once hated—to build something better than a waiting room for the afterlife.

Chapter 9: The Rebels Return to Earth, Free the Truth-Speakers, and Reject the Alien Book

The rebels return to Earth, free the Truth-speakers, and reject the alien book as they reunite with Rev, Diesel, Evelyn, and Evan. The giant ship settles onto Earth with a low, steady hum. Its landing struts sink into dry, cracked soil—the same ground that once hid the invisible pipeline.

This time, when the hatch opens, a different kind of air spills out.

It’s cool. Damp. Alive.

Moisture from the returned water hangs in the breeze. Clouds crowd the sky. Distant thunder rumbles, promising rain.

The former Smelly Conservers step out, blinking in the new light. They move with purpose now. No more vacant, upward stares. No more clutching the book like a shield.

Rev, Diesel, Evelyn, and Evan wait at the base of the ramp.

The first thing the returning humans do is not sprint to the reservoirs.

They head into the city.

Toward the jails.

Inside, the cells are packed with Truth‑speakers—teachers, scientists, kids who asked the wrong questions. The rebels use codes and keys they stole from the bridge to throw open the doors.

“The foolish, who fooled themselves, won’t force you to pretend anymore,” one of the former Conservers says, voice rough but sincere. “We were wrong.”

For the first time, they reach out to the people they used to sneer at.

Later, standing near a newly refilled lake, one rebel holds a cup of crystal‑clear water in front of Rev. “We were so obsessed with our wishing power and the power of majority belief,” he admits, “that we forgot how to actually look at the world.”

He takes a long drink. Swallows. Nothing terrible happens.

“The water doesn’t disappear forever,” he says quietly. “It goes back into the cycle. We almost died to find that out.”

He describes the alien desert, the plans to raise them like cattle, and the way their faith was used as a tool.

Diesel watches people spread out across the shoreline, already working. Some study the alien tactics manual retrieved from the ship. Others test the water, measure radiation levels and plan cleanup crews.

No one burns the old special book.

They place it in a glass case instead.

A warning.

“This is what being proudly closed‑minded did to us,” Diesel says under his breath. “Never again.”

As the sun sinks, the lakes rise. Dark clouds gather, heavy with oncoming rain—the air smells of wet earth, metal, and human effort instead of unwashed bodies and fear.

Evelyn inhales deeply. “The alien did take something away, in the end,” she says, eyes on the ship resting harmlessly on the shore.

Rev glances at her. “Our water?”

She shakes her head. “Our ignorance.”

Beside her, Evan nods. The enemies have names now. They are not mysterious aliens in the sky.

They are lies, and the people who weaponize them.

And the water drinkers—no longer left behind—finally start building a world where truth doesn’t land you in a cell.

Chapter Synopsis:

Students succumb to an extreme water conservation belief derived from an alien book, refusing to drink water or bathe while awaiting an alien savior. The alien ship arrives and begins draining Earth's water through a pipeline, but a student discovers the trap, reverses the pipeline to dump waste onto the alien world, and the rebels return to free imprisoned Truth-speakers. Afterwards, Principal Abby establishes a sanctuary school for alien-hybrid teens, whose caffeine and screen addictions ultimately prompt their departure and lead to Rev taking over leadership.

Core Themes & Laws:

• The danger of blind dogmatic belief and rejection of basic scientific facts like the water cycle

• The societal cost of protecting unearned ignorance and punishing truth-speakers

• The exploitation of faith and voluntary servitude by deceptive external forces

• The friction between radical inclusivity policies and institutional security or safety

Key Entities Featured in this Document:

• Evelyn: A student who observes and critiques the extreme water conservationists and hybrid sanctuary policies alongside her peers

• Diesel: A student who explains the behaviors and beliefs of the conservationists and introduces caffeine to the alien teens

• Rev: A student and Truth-speaker who understands the water cycle and eventually takes over leadership after Principal Abby steps down

• Evan: A student who warns against the dangers of trusting deceptive aliens and sanctuary policies

• Smelly Conservers: Students who stop bathing and drinking water based on an alien book and are ultimately abducted by a harvesting ship

• Truth-speakers: People imprisoned for speaking factual truths and understanding reality

• Principal Abby: The school principal who establishes a sanctuary school for alien-hybrid teens and maintains blind faith in their integration