Fear not – we shall not eat your planet! We’ll never touch it, the reason being that we’ve already eaten it. You and the place you live in are, ahem… you’re what came out of the other side.
There was a girl, though only technically so. Externally, she was a blob of flesh, hardly recognisable as human, living in an old oversized incubator which no one could turn off due to some minor legal issue. She looked like a cliche monster out of a science fiction Z movie, but her mind was bright and shining. And finally someone took notice.
He was a young scout working for a big advertising company, looking for the Next New Thing. He visited prisons, asylums, retirement homes, schools, he even visited a zoo, but he didn’t strike gold until it occurred to him to look into one of those places which no one likes to think about, the hospital ward dedicated to the irrevocably mutated. And there he found her.
She had a charming personality. She could hold a conversation about anything which ever appeared on the net, anywhere, since she never did anything else but surfing. She could mimic any accent from any video ever uploaded to U2b. She was funny and smart and very quick on her – mental – feet.
He did not bother lying to her. The deal was simple: they’d connect her brain to the body of a wonderful woman, grown up in a vat for that purpose. She will have the most fun she could ever have. Hell, she will have the most fun anyone, anywhere, could have in an entire lifetime. She will become an instant celebrity, but not for her beauty: because everyone will know who she really is, everyone will also see, right by the image of the beautiful woman, snippets of her real body, the shapeless grotesque blob in the oversized incubator. The hospital ward will be redecorated and equipped with 24/7 cameras. A new sort of reality.
There’ll be product placements. Otherwise, what’s the point?
She said yes. Of course she did. What’s a bit of humiliation compared to having to spend the rest of your life in the same old stuffed place? Or to a chance of having actual human companionship for the first time? Or sex?
She said yes, and they plugged her in. She became a celebrity. She had human companionship. She spent a short forever talking, charming, dancing, sailing, acting, and, all that time, advertising. She had sex. She even had love. Her soul mate was the young star of a new soap opera. He wasn’t as dumb as he looked online. And all that time, the relentless cameras at the hospital ward streamed out the image of her real body, slowly pulsating under the cold, blue light.
The one thing that no one took into account was the possibility that someone would fall in love with her original body. He – it was later found that he was only one of millions of people hooked on the live feed from the hospital – sneaked into the stupidly unguarded ward in the middle of the night, read a bad poem of his own writing in the blob’s dysfunctional ears, and then opened the incubator and jumped inside in order to commune with his love. This severed the delicate microwires which connected the girl’s brain to the beautiful body. The body, a thousand miles away, in the middle of a well documented orgy, instantly collapsed. It took almost fifteen seconds for the nerve backfire shock to fry the girl’s brain. Her last feeling wasn’t too far from having the best orgasm any creature could have, ever. The spasms of her dying body crushed the intruder’s pelvis, then his skull. He died a happy man.
All in all, it was one of the best love stories of the time.
He opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of his time machine. The cork flew through it to the previous month and knocked him cold. He opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of his universe machine. The cork flew through it to the previous universe and knocked him cold. He opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of his improbability machine. The cork flew through it to the previous probability and became a bistro and fell on him, and that was that. And in another time, in another universe, improbable as it was, he or someone just like him opened a bottle of champagne to celebrate the success of his eventuality machine, but this time the cork didn’t fly anywhere, and he sat quietly and drank, wondering why he was suddenly feeling disappointed.
We’ve never visited nor shall we visit your planet. We won’t emit any radiation, gravity, time or space signals in your direction. We will not present ourselves to you, nor shall we invade you, in any sense of that word. But the possibility of our existence is already planted deep in your minds. And that, you unlucky ones, is the real invasion.
In a faraway place in a faraway past, a radiation blast sterilised every member of the smarter sex of the colonisation expedition merely moments after landing. Using genetic engineering and biotechnology trickery the settlers survived, though only two of the three sexes remained: the fairer sex and the stronger sex. Presently, there’s no memory left of the third sex, and the members of the other two do not imagine the possibility of its existence, though nothing else explains the fact that they’re so messed up and incompatible to each other.
Tomorrow, a space vehicle will appear in their skies, carrying a second expedition, a rescue mission consisting of all three sexes, looking for their lost brothers and sisters. “Take us to your leaders,” every communication device will coo, moved by a deep desire to set things right as quickly as possible in that tormented place. A very predictable turmoil will ensue, with celebrations and demonstrations and knock knock knocking on heaven’s door, and forty five dark pieces of metal in orbit will turn quietly towards the messengers and will cover them softly with an atomic fire brighter than the sun.
And thus it will turn out that the smarter sex isn’t smart enough, and that the other two will stay hopelessly irrevocable.
It was a toy, and yet it wasn’t. It was carefully constructed by a member of a terribly sophisticated civilization in order to help its young ones learn things which, to a human, are indescribable. It existed in numerous dimensions, none of which was supposed to correlate to any of the six ones upon which the human solar system was built. And yet somehow one such dimension was bent, or torn, or perhaps just brutally played with, and thus a thing appeared simultaneously before, during and after Earth’s existence. In the 52nd century after the quake it manifested as a sweet, edible statue and caused some wild insects to wonder about their predecessors; in the 19th century after the prophet it, looking like a deformed Ferris wheel, changed the mind of a human girl and enabled her to flee her parents into the universe next door, leaving behind her only a strange book written by a non-existing author; in the 14th century after the first humanoids it manifested as a monolith and caused a monkey to use a bone to kill its brother; and in the 2nd century after the flood it climbed from inside the water and onto the land, pushing along a tremendous number of fish, two of which survived, a female and a male.
And in a non-linear non-future, a terribly sophisticated civilization flickered for a non-moment, blinked out of existence, and then re-emerged as something completely different. It did not have anything to do with solar systems or earth or humans or insects or small girls or monkeys, but it did smell slightly of fish.
And so it was that the sun beings came to visit you. First there was a tremendous solar flare, and by the time its light hit the Solar and Heliospheric Observatory which humankind thoughtfully put in space, the visitors were already on earth, and your FM radio was gone forever.
“Hello there,” their leader told several millions of dissatisfied listeners who were not particularly keen on this new change of program, preferring instead the usual traffic reports and morning chit-chat shows. “We are your neighbors, we came from the sun.” Later, some commentators noted that he had a slight Jamaican accent.
“You cannot see us,” the leader of the sun beings continued. “We exist outside your sensory range.”
“We’ve found ourselves a new home here,” it added. This generated the expected amount of turmoil. “However, there is nothing for you to worry about. We will settle at the Earth’s core, and you shall have no contact with us, while we have no influence on you or your lives. We just wanted to say hello.”
A year later, after several failed attempts, you people of earth finally managed to get rid of most of the planet’s core, sending “it and its dirty foreigners”, as some spokesman defined it, out to space. No one in power took the slightest consideration of the effect this will have on the planet’s stability.
Thus, a year later, the meager remains of humanity arrived at Mars, having migrated there via a giant spaceship which was urgently constructed from an old aircraft carrier.
“We’ve found ourselves a new home here,” your leader said, failing to realize that we, the ancient people of Mars, were also there, existing outside the humans’ sensory range. And that, of course, was pretty much the end of it, as we promptly sent the spaceship and you back to space.
Just like you, we do not like to share our planet with dirty foreigners.