Two hundred years ago, we discovered FTL.

A hundred and eleven years ago, we made first contact. War inevitably followed.

Ninety-eight years ago, the remnants of humanity were dispersed among twenty hidden, low profile colonies, none knowing the location of any other, only that they existed.

Eighty-five years ago, omni-directional broadcasts from Earth stopped abruptly.

Seventy-two years ago, catastrophe beacons started broadcasting fallen colonies’ epitaphs.

Two months ago, every colony had been accounted for, destroyed, except for us.

Three weeks ago, something entered our solar system.

An hour ago, our president apologized for failing to save us.

A second ago…

Author’s Note: The title inspired the story, but I can’t tell you the correlation between the two.

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This should be a great night!

Human Cosplay is new to my species. Dressing up in another being’s guise is incredibly empowering. It’s almost as much fun as making the costume.

Entering the bar, everyone notices my impressive appearance. I must have done well to draw such immediate attention.

There are my co-workers, at the back: the cool crowd, finally accepting me.

“Dreegli, what have you done?” Cute little Shrel asks, exasperated, eyes wildly tracing the blood dripping down my sides.

“I … came as a Human?”

“You’re supposed to emulate them, not kill them and wear the carcass.”

“Oh…”

Author’s Note: I read recently about a cosplay hosted at the Sydney Sexpo. It got me thinking about how easy it is to misunderstand the base assumptions of participation in someone else’s traditions.

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The would-be invaders arrived too late. The planet had already been conquered. Evidence clearly showed militaries surrendering to one powerful superman. Civilians were taking shelter.

But how could he be so successful? Perhaps his telepathy protected him. He knew so much about so many people! Perhaps it was his speed of movement, so fast even the alien’s orbiting technology couldn’t track him.

Another unexpected datapoint: his victims were resilient, surviving his repeated incursions.

The aliens listened, transfixed, as the war below played out for all to hear.

“This is a NORAD special report. Santa Claus has left the North Pole…”

Author’s Note: I wanted to write about how the Santa story would transpose onto asteroid mining colonies, but came up with this instead.

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How do you disprove the existence of God when he’s standing in front of you: Wry smile on his all-knowing countenance; not as old as you’d expect; not a stitch of clothing on him; definitely male, if a little feral.

There were hundreds gathered around – watching, recording, posting – when I arrived at the scene. I was numb from the October wind. He wasn’t even shivering.

He wasn’t flashy: No miracles or anything, just knew everything, everyone, every…

Red laser! Gunshot! He’s down!

“Your first telepath?” My Director sympathized later. “They always try the ‘I’m God’ gambit. But nude? That’s new.”

Author’s Note: I recently read a story about God personified trying to prove his existence to an atheist and I thought “but a telepath could do all that.”

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Everyone knows where the answers are – at the event horizon. Hawking radiation retains all information. All you have to do is go get it…

Bold and desperate peoples, attempting to rewrite their history, often tried, and repeatedly failed.

The crew of Hawking’s Hope had a different plan. Don’t try to capture the information, try to join it: Immortality, a long sleep, until someone else figures out how to retrieve them. So the last humans, fleeing extermination, gathered on one ship, gambling on becoming wooly mammoths revived from extinction.

Whether that ship’s fool errand worked, we still don’t know. Maybe someday.

Author’s Note: If event horizons retain information, as Stephen Hawking postulates, can we write to that storage medium?

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For most of them, it was the night sky that gave the first clue. They used social media to meet up, to stand together, ooh-ing and aah-ing as a constant stream of shooting stars rained down on Earth for almost four whole days.

But their leaders knew better.

No artificial satellite could survive that bombardment. Blinded, they could do nothing but await the inevitable arrival of the asteroids.

Of the eight we sent, only five hit – one missed completely, and two glanced off the atmosphere. Nevermind, it was sufficient.

The humans had no colonies. They are no longer a threat.

Author’s Note: Despite what some books and movies may tell you, there’s no reason why aliens would invade Earth. Killing us from afar is a much more efficient way to remove a resource competitor.

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