The Beard Deception

The neon drizzle hammered against the cracked plexiglass window of Dr. Yashida’s clinic, casting prismatic reflections across the scarred metal table where Thorpix sat, his seven-fingered hand twitching nervously.

“You understand,” Dr. Yashida said, her voice clinical but tinged with the particular tone reserved for aliens who paid triple, “these follicular transplants aren’t designed for your epidermal structure. The human facial hair pattern is specific to their species.”

Thorpix vibrated his throat sac in what he believed was a human chuckle. “Money talks, doctor. CosmoCorps doesn’t ask questions when I close interplanetary shipping deals. They just assume I’m an eccentric human with a skin condition.”

“Your call.” She shrugged, prepping the follicular nanobots. “But these beards are trending among humans precisely because they’re abandoning cybernetic enhancements. It’s retro-naturalism. Authenticity.”

Dr. Yashida didn’t mention that Thorpix was her fourth Centaurian customer this week. The trend had exploded among aliens trying to infiltrate human society. Some conspiracy theories about their presence had started circulating on the darknet, but most humans were too distracted by BrainFeed™ entertainment implants to notice.

Three days later, Thorpix stared into the mirror of his cramped hab-unit. The beard had taken root, sprouting in dense patches across his green-tinged face. It didn’t follow human growth patterns—instead forming concentric circles around his breathing membranes. But according to the human-integration pamphlet he’d downloaded, beards signified wisdom, masculinity, and trustworthiness.

His communication device pulsed. The dimensional screen flickered to life, revealing Supreme Commander Z’lak.

“Report progress on human infiltration,” Z’lak demanded.

“Integration proceeding optimally,” Thorpix responded, stroking his circular beard pattern proudly. “Have adopted the latest human male facial customization.”

Z’lak’s eye stalks retracted in dismay. “What is that growth on your face?”

“Facial hair. Very trendy among human males. Builds trust.”

“You look ridiculous,” Z’lak hissed. “The invasion council will not be pleased.”

The corporate lounge of NeoTokyo Tower hummed with ambient drone music as Thorpix navigated through clusters of executives. He’d spent a month’s salary on the authentic vintage suit and handcrafted leather briefcase. The beard had grown fuller, now pulsating slightly with his breathing—an unexpected side effect Dr. Yashida had failed to mention.

Marcus Davis, head of CosmoCorps’ Extrasolar Division, extended his hand. Thorpix remembered to shake it, not taste it as customary on Centauri Prime.

“Interesting… facial hair style you’ve got there, Mr. Smith,” Davis said, eyes narrowing.

“Thank you,” Thorpix replied, his voice modulator straining to sound casual. “I grow it myself.”

Davis’ smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Naturally. Say, that reminds me of something interesting we’ve been tracking. Seems there’s been a surge in beard transplant procedures in certain… demographic groups.”

Thorpix felt his second heart begin to race. “Fashion is cyclical, I hear.”

“Indeed.” Davis sipped his whiskey. “Though I must admit, I’ve never seen circular beard patterns before. Rather striking how they… pulse.”

A woman in a crimson business suit appeared at Davis’ side. “Security scan complete, sir. Subject registers non-human cellular structure.”

Davis’ pleasant expression didn’t change. “Mr. Smith, I believe we should continue this conversation in our special projects division.”

Thorpix noticed security drones descending from the ceiling. “I seem to have a conflict in my schedule,” he said, backing away.

“Your conflict,” Davis replied calmly, “is that you believed a beard would make you human. The real humans who get transplants are covering up their non-human features, not highlighting them.”

Thorpix froze. “What?”

“CosmoCorps has been conducting xenobiological research for decades. Did you really think you were the first? The beard trend among your kind has been… most helpful for our identification protocols.”

As security closed in, Thorpix realized the terrible truth: the beard transplant clinics were human-operated surveillance operations. The invasion was already known. And worse—the humans had been expecting it.

His last thought before the stun field activated was about the Supreme Commander. The Commander would never believe the humans had weaponized facial hair.

---

In her clinic, Dr. Yashida transferred her day’s recording to a secure channel. General Harris’ face appeared on her screen.

“Another one tagged and bagged,” she reported. “They really believe beards are the key to passing as human.”

Harris nodded. “Keep them coming. And make sure the transplants contain the tracking nanites.”

Yashida smiled. “Always. It’s amazing what aliens will believe about humanity from watching our old entertainment feeds.”

As she hung up, her next patient entered—an insectoid. It was trying desperately to hide its mandibles. The creature thought it was wearing cutting-edge human fashion. It had an absurdly bushy handlebar mustache that twitched with its every anxious movement.

“Welcome,” she said warmly. “Looking to blend in better? I have just the treatment.”