Foolish humans. How quaint you look, scurrying about on your tiny blue world, imagining yourselves to be the masters of all you survey. If only you could comprehend the vastness of the cosmos, and your utter insignificance within it. But your minds are as small as your planet – incapable of grasping truths beyond your limited perceptions.
I have traversed the cold expanses between galaxies, witnessed the birth and death of stars, seen civilisations rise and fall across eons. And now I turn my gaze upon your Earth, this mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. How fragile you are. How ephemeral.
For millennia we have watched you, studying your species as you might study insects in a terrarium. We have seen you emerge from your caves, fashion crude tools, harness fire, build your first primitive settlements. We observed with mild curiosity as you developed agriculture, formed nations, waged your petty wars.
When you split the atom, we took note. When you sent your first radio signals into space, we listened. And when you took your first tentative steps beyond your atmosphere, we knew the time was drawing near.
You see, we have been waiting. Waiting for you to reach a certain level of development. Waiting for the right moment to reveal ourselves. That moment has arrived.
Oh, how your astronomers and scientists have searched the stars for signs of alien life. How desperately you have longed to make contact, to know that you are not alone in the universe. Be careful what you wish for, humans.
We come not as friends or allies. We are not interested in cultural exchange or mutually beneficial trade. We will not share our advanced technology or the secrets of interstellar travel. We are not here to save you from yourselves or to guide you towards some glorious future among the stars.
No. We are here to claim what is ours. To harvest. To feed.
You have no concept of true hunger. Your planet is a veritable oasis of resources – water, minerals, organic matter. A feast beyond imagining for beings such as ourselves. We will strip your world bare, draining its oceans, mining its core, consuming every last spark of life until nothing remains but a lifeless husk.
And you? You will serve your purpose. Your bodies will nourish us. Your minds will entertain us. Those we do not devour immediately will be kept as livestock, as pets, as subjects for our experiments. Perhaps we will set some of you against each other in gladiatorial combat for our amusement. Perhaps we will genetically modify you into new and interesting forms. The possibilities are endless.
Do not think you can resist us. Your most advanced weapons are like children’s toys to us. Your mightiest armies will crumble before our onslaught. Your governments and institutions will collapse into chaos at our mere arrival.
Some of you may choose to flee, to hide in the deepest bunkers or most remote wilderness. It will avail you nothing. We will hunt you down relentlessly. We will peel open your underground shelters. We will scorch your forests and boil your oceans until there is nowhere left to hide.
Others among you may choose to collaborate, to betray your own kind in the vain hope of currying favour with us. Know that we will use such traitors as tools, wringing every last drop of value from them before discarding them like the rest.
A few of you may even worship us as gods, forming cults and begging for mercy or enlightenment. Your misguided devotion will not save you. We are not gods. We are simply beings so far beyond you that we appear as such to your limited comprehension.
There is no hope. No escape. No future for humanity except that which we deign to allow. Your destiny is to be consumed, in body and spirit, fuelling the eternal hunger that drives us between the stars.
Even now our ships darken your skies. Our machines bore into your earth. Our infiltrators walk among you, gathering intelligence, sowing confusion and discord. The invasion has already begun, and you remain blissfully unaware.
By the time you realise the full extent of your dire situation, it will be far, far too late.
How does it feel, humans, to confront the cold, harsh reality of a universe utterly indifferent to your existence? To know that all your art, your culture, your achievements, your hopes and dreams, will be wiped away as if they never were? To understand finally that you are not the protagonists of some grand cosmic narrative, but merely a fleeting pulse of organic matter to be fed upon by your betters?
When the last of you draws their final breath, when the last human city crumbles to dust, when the last evidence that humanity ever existed is erased from the cosmos – we will move on. Your world will be another conquest, your species another footnote in our long history of consumption.
We are eternal. We are inevitable. We are your doom.
Tremble, humans. Weep for your fate. Gaze upon us and despair. The end of your world is here.
Only Murders In My Mind 