No one can tell me they don’t exist because I’ve seen them. I have communicated, though sometimes clumsily, with many of them.
They travel through space in a ship that is almost too large to imagine. Of course from far enough away—no shortage of that in the Universe—it can seem downright dinky.
Their spaceship is ellipsoidal. It carries its own food, water, oxygen, and renewable resources.
“What kind of renewable resources?”
Plants, animals, stuff like that. This spaceship is so big that it even generates its own weather and has a delicate, self-contained atmosphere. They haven’t worked all the bugs out of the weather system; it’s killed some of them, but it works quite well most of the time.
As far as they know, there is no other source for water in space. If they don’t take care of their water, recycle and treat it properly, they’re up the creek. Same goes for their fragile atmosphere—it’s all that stands between them and disaster.
“Hold on! Recycled water? Please don’t tell me that—”
Yes… I know it sounds indelicate, but you have to understand they’re out there whizzing—no pun intended…well, maybe just a little—through space and they are unaware of any other source of water. So, the same water that comes out of them, and the animals they carry, eventually makes its way back into them.
“Good Lord! I hope they at least have a decent filtration system.”
They do. It’s quite remarkable, really. Remind me to tell you about it sometime.
Anyway, this spaceship also generates its own gravity.
“How do they do that?”
Well, it spins about 1040 miles per hour, even as it travels at over 66,000 miles per hour—that’s 18.5 miles per second, 1110 miles per minute.
“Clever. How do you know so much about it?”
I was welcomed onboard and took a most mind-blowing trip with them.
“Welcomed? You weren’t abducted?”
Not at all. Don’t believe everything you read or hear about them. I was not exactly invited, understand, but welcomed nonetheless.
“I might like to try that.”
You don’t just hop on this thing. There is a lengthy acclimation/training period involved. I had to learn the most basic skills such as breathing and eating as they do. They taught me how to transport myself and how to interact like one of them. This may sound a little creepy, even farfetched, but the process begins by actually growing inside one of them.
Depends on how you look at it. Takes about 36 of their weeks.
My stay among them had to be a brief one. They told me that after about a hundred years it would become obvious that I had worn out my welcome. Indeed, after around fifty, I was already seeing signs of that.
At first, they thought I was cute. They seemed delighted when I learned something new. Then I was cheered on, even as I was sent off to fend for myself. I never lacked for entertaining company or engaging experiences. As the new wore off, so did their interest. After a while, outside of a few token gestures from those who were paid to offer them, they didn’t seem to really care one way or the other.
Fine by me. I was more than ready to get home.
Even amidst all the fun and refreshment to be had elsewhere, I’ll never forget my little side trip among the Humans.
“What’s the name of their starship?”
They call it Earth. Many of them believe they are the only ones out there.
“Of all the pretentious bullsh—”
“They really think—”
As best they can, yes.