"Welcome back to Good Morning Nations, I'm Janet Tillsdale and today we have someone very exciting on the program," Janet beamed at the camera, offering a smile she'd practised so meticulously Harold said she did it in her sleep, "today on Good Morning we have an exclusive interview with Rebel Ovishir Scientist, Dalia Kinderith, who is making the claim that humans are, in fact, sapient."

Some people in the audience laughed, others scoffed, it was a contentious topic.

The camera pulled back from its close up of Janet and revealed the guest, a pearl skinned feminine alien covered in thousands of fish-like scales; a powerful tail was tucked behind her on her chair and she was wearing both a tight space suit and a small mask that covered her mouth.

"Welcome Delia," Janet greeted.

There was silence for a moment, longer than was allowed in an interview in most cases. The network had added support for the alien translation devices to the studio, but it was still far from real-time. Dalia waited as English was translated into something she could understand. Then she opened her mouth and a moment later, over the speakers, a simulated voice spoke up "Thanks for having me Janet, I've found your program very interesting over the past week."

"Is that how long you've been on Earth?"

"Ten days now," Dalia's fake voice corrected. To the audience the whole thing looked like a poorly dubbed movie from the 90s with Dalia clearly making her point before any words came out, "I do love the planet. You've been very welcoming to the Ovishir."

Janet nodded along and her producer shout-whispered something in her ear about steering away from the 'welcome' that the Aliens had gotten. After the first contact skirmishes just beyond Pluto the United Nations had welcomed Aliens to see the planet with open arms. It was a hot button issue and not something she was supposed to bring up on an all audiences program. "If you've been here that long, what's so interesting about our program?"

"Well," Dalia started, "it's actually quite similar to the programming we have back on Ovilatia, almost shockingly so."

Usually Janet would have made a joke there, but she'd been trained on the alien translation technology and how poorly it dealt with English sarcasm at the moment. "Well I'm glad you like the show."

"I never said I liked it," Dalia shot back with a proper humorous tone. The audience laughed. For some reason she was able to joke through the translation. Must have come with practice.

"Fair enough, I guess we'll have to look for other fans in the stars," Janet responded, "I haven't had a galactic audience before."

Dalia offered a sharp exhale, which Janet had been told was the Ovishir equivalent of a polite chuckle.

"Speaking of the galaxy at large," Janet pivoted, "would you mind telling us a little bit about your theory regarding humans compared to the other species?"

"Certainly," Dalia shifted a little in her chair, giving her tail space to unwind behind her for a moment, "so the general galactic opinion at the moment is that humans have been exempt from Galactic Integration Procedures because they aren't a properly sapient specie due to the lack of Keeneeta but that view seems myopic by my study."

'"We-" Janet went to start but noticed that Dalia was still speaking, the translator was just buffering.

"There is a lot of evidence to point to humans being a Sapient species, and the fact that you aren't be treated within Galactic Integration Procedures could be disastrous for your species, should you ever keeneetaa."

There was the word again. Nobody quite understood what it meant, but she'd been told not to ask about it because it mostly got a reaction of 'see, they're obviously not sapient, they don't even know what it is.'

Janet nodded along with Dalia's conclusions and then, once she was confident that she was finished her piece, spoke up, "So these Galactic Integration Procedures, they're important in your mind?"

Dalia thumped her tail twice, which was the Ovishir equivalent of nodding, "Absolutely, it's about regulation, and right now the lack of regulation around human-galactic integration could be disastrous for your species."

Janet understood that she wasn't allowed to ask the specifics of GIP rules, but she could at least prod a little, "Disastrous how?"

"The Galactic Integration Procedures are the outlines for how we're supposed to interact in the early days. I don't know much about human history, but if there were any instances of Colonialis-"

"There were," Janet cut in.

"ism," the translator caught up.

Dalia thumped again and then continued, "right, so most instances of Colonialism result in cultural decay. Galactic Integration Procedures are set up to promote the flow of human cultural traditions into the Galactic Sphere as opposed to having the arrival of other species erode the human cultures by having off-world species be economically dominant on your home planet."

Janet frowned at the statement 'home planet' she understood that Dalia was being kind there. Humans had a single colony, but they were a single planet species, which was apparently well behind the usual curve for galactic integration. "So you're worried about the lack of regulation surrounding Alien arrival on Earth?"

"Exactly, Janet," Dalia confirmed, "even the fact that I'm allowed on a program like this speaks to the complete lack of GCA oversight regarding humans, and considering the fact that humans have most other markings of PAS, Planetary Advanced Species, it's reckless."

"The other markings?" Janet prodded. Her producer told her to be careful.

"Things like an advanced economy, space flight, abstractions," Dalia explained, "it's all very baseline requirements but they've been solid in the past. The suggestion that brought me here is that your language system obviously isn't inhibiting you as much as the GCA wants to suggest and you should be under Galactic Integration Protocol."

There was a moment in people's careers where they needed to make a choice between playing it safe and risking their job to do it well. Janet had always told herself that she was going to take the hard-hitting path, which was likely why she instinctively asked, "so keeneeta is a linguistic concept?"

"No, pivot," her producer growled in her ear.

"It's difficult to explain because it doesn't translate to your personal language but yes," Dalia said, "and you deserve to understand what's holding you back so that you can argue your case. Whether they will judge your species for it or not."

"Do not be the reason I get calls from the fucking Press Secretary," the producer hissed.

"Perfect," Janet said, brushing her hair back in a practised motion and pulling our her earpiece alongside it.

"Keeneeta is the," Dalia considered for a moment, "it's a base tongue. A unified language that your species inherently understands."

"Like a universal language?" Janet asked.

"Not quite, my species has two main languages alongside our keeneeta," she explained, "but it seems like there are many humans who, without a shared language, have no way of understanding one another."

"So if everyone learned the same language?"

"No because you would need to learn it," Dalia pointed out, "a keeneeta is an inherent thing to the birth of a sapient species," she paused and a moment later her 'voice' did, "or at least-"

The translator cut out and Janet shot her eyes over to the side of the stage and was met with glared from producers and the sight of one yelling into a phone.

Dalia turned to look at the chaos unfolding, she said something but without the wider translation there was no way for Janet to understand her, that said, her eyes showed something close to apology.

A pit gnawed its way into Janet's stomach. She didn't have the context of the future texts that would outline this was one of the most critical interviews of the 2110's. Right now she just understood that she was in deep shit.

​

----

This is somewhat a prequel / world building for my ongoing series Six Orbits over on /r/Jacksonwrites :)

"You are close to sentience," said the alien, and then it slowly shook its large, gray head. "But it seems you are not there yet."

Taylor blinked. "But we're talking to you. I mean, I guess you're using some kind of telepathy or advanced technology to make it possible, but..." she trailed off, confused, and looked at Doug.

Doug frowned. He wasn't sure why she was looking at him. Of the two of them, he was the senior clerk at the 7-11 from which they'd been abducted, but only by a few weeks. That hardly made him more qualified for intergalactic diplomacy.

He looked back down at the alien, who was standing on the metallic deck of its spacecraft, looking up at Doug and Taylor where they floated in mid-air, suspended helplessly inside some kind of anti-gravity field.

"Uh, yeah," Doug said. "'Sentience' is kind of a big idea, right? Doesn't the fact that we know what that is and have a word for it sort of prove that we have it?"

"The ability to comprehend abstract concepts is only part of what makes a species sentient. As I said, you are close, but not quite there." the alien said.

"Look, shouldn't you be taking to like anyone else?" Taylor asked, sounding exasperated. "Scientists, world leaders -- somebody? I just work here, dude! Er, at the place you abducted us from, I mean.

"Positions of leadership and scholarship tend to be populated with outliers."

"Okay, but like...why does that matter?" Doug asked. "Don't you want to talk to our best people?"

The alien shook its head. "No. We wished to evaluate a representative sample of humanity. A few outliers at the upper limits of your species' capabilities will doubtless achieve keeneetaa long before the species as a whole attains to it."

"There's that word again." Taylor grumbled.

"Yeah," Doug agreed. "Why is that the one word you don't translate, or beam into our brains, or whatever?"

"We are communicating it to you as best we can. The fact that you do not understand it proves that you do not possess it." the alien explained.

"But what is keeneetaa?" Taylor pressed. "Explain it to us!"

The alien raised a slender hand. "Keeneetaa that is explained in terms of other things is not truly keeneetaa, for keeneetaa is both itself, and the description of itself. Even the sound of keeneetaa is not truly 'keeneetaa', it is rather the sound produced by an object colliding with nothing."

"Whoa." Taylor said, eyes widening. "That's...that's deep."

Doug nodded slowly. "Yeah...yeah I think I get it."

"And yet, all evidence suggests that you do not." the alien said, with a disappointed sigh. "We will return you to your pl--"

"No, really." Doug interrupted. "I actually get it, now. Keeneetaa is bullshit."

"Doug!" Taylor exclaimed. "They're like all-powerful aliens! Maybe don't piss them off by disrespecting their culture!"

Doug was undaunted. "We do have a term for keeneetaa in our language, but it's a not a word. It's a story."

"Doug! Shhh!" Taylor hissed, looked fearfully between him and the alien.

The alien held up a hand. "No. Tell me this story."

Doug shrugged. "Sure, it's pretty short. Once upon a time, there was an emperor who loved fine clothing. His tailors made him the best clothing imaginable, but eventually they couldn't make him anything more regal than what he already had."

"Go on..." the alien said, narrowing its large, dark eyes.

"Except, one clever tailor had an idea. He told the emperor and the entire court that he'd found the most beautiful cloth in the world, something truly fit for the emperor. He said it had one flaw though: it could only be seen and felt by smart people. If you were an idiot, then the cloth was invisible and intangible to you."

"We're going to get probed so hard..." Taylor groaned, hanging her head.

"So, he took the emperor's measurements, and then just pretended to be sewing and cutting cloth. No one could see the cloth -- because there was no cloth -- but since not being able to see it meant you were stupid, no one, not even the emperor, would admit they couldn't."

"And what transpired afterward?" the alien asked.

"Well, the emperor walked out naked in front of the entire court, thinking he was wearing this magic robe. Everyone applauded, and said it was beautiful, because they wanted people to think they were smart, and didn't realize that no one could see the robe. The tailor got a huge reward, lived happily ever after." Doug explained. "And it seems to me that's what your keeneetaa is: a bunch of fancy doublespeak hiding the fact that you're just walking around with your junk hanging out, like everyone else."

The alien nodded slowly. Then it made a gesture, and Taylor vanished in a flash of light.

"Shit!" Doug exclaimed. "But, you said you'd --"

"Send you back to your planet, yes. She is safe, back at the location where we initially retrieved you. Do not worry, I will return you there, as well...later."

Doug swallowed hard. "Okay, but...what are you going to do with me in the meantime?"

The alien blinked. "I will take you to a conclave of our leaders and scientists, of course. They will want to meet the first recorded human to achieve keeneetaa."

I got the idea watching Chev. He was dancing and making a real fool of himself, but that was nothing new. Through a careful process of trial and error, double blind studies, random extemporaneous scientific bullshit (we knew all the words by that point, if not necessarily how to use them) I’d determined Chev was basically the dumbest boy alive. Take a box of rocks, smash ‘em all together, remove the three or four biggest chunks, then toss the rest into the gutter. That was Chev. Dumb as shit, but he was onto something.

“Naw,” he’d said, “that ain’t it. Keeneetaa’s not some big science thing. It’s a dance.”

Then he’d just up and started. Gyrating. His hips did this thing that made them look halfway broken, but it got two of the girls watching, Analise and Jen, and because they were watching now the boys had to and so on. Just to make fun of him, you understand. Bunch of urchins gathered on the corner, dirty as sin between the rains, and there’s Chev thrusting air. Waving his hands all woo-woo. Jumping like we’d tossed him in hot coals. Which we’d done before, so that’s probably where he got it. Probably.

And there I was with my idea.

It was a good idea. For months now all anyone’d been able to talk about was ‘keeneetaa.’ Just what happens when a couple dickhead Godlings up and fall out of the sky, spouting stuff about sentience and the like. Little bastards too, wouldn’t make it half a minute on the streets without their drones and power armor. Those laser things they wear over their fingers like so much spun gold, got all the girls drooling after them, these pretty little ringlets that’ll kill you. Saw a program once, real-like, spliced into a matrix terminal by a gas station off the 5, where they talked about all the things keeneetaa might and might not be. Not the drones or armor or the magic, kill-you-from-a-dozen rings. Not skin color, ours or theirs. Not religion, but maybe philosophy, not science but maybe art.

Not money, but it worked just like it. We needed keeneetaa to make our way, and didn’t have it, couldn’t grok it, so really this great big off-blue shithole of a planet was really one big urchin. Like the President and me were squatting over the same pot, talking about the winds and rains.

Shit. So it was on our minds, and when Chev just thought to lie about it, easy as you please, and start dancing like a loon, I thought, ‘Ike Green, you can do that too.’

“Naw,” I said, “that ain’t keeneetaa either. Kids like you wouldn’t get it.”

And of course, that got them looking. It was the way I said it, smooth-like, like those men behind the men glass drinking whiskey, closing their eyes for a second like they just get it—the it being immaterial because fuck it, I got whiskey. I said it like that, and when all of them looked over, I was looking somewhere in particular. At Cristabel, who was my age, really, they all were, but who had this shy way about her that made her seem a little younger, a little fragile, maybe not quite made for this world—though she made it seem like a good thing, the only thing, the best thing.

“What is it, then?” she asked. And I harrumphed like I knew what I was doing. Took a long, meaningful look around at everyone that wasn’t her. Turned.

My heart was in my fucking throat.

Fuck you though, I didn’t look back.

Ok, I did, but still. Fuck you.

When I looked back Chev was still there, dancing. I could just make out in the firelight, flames guttering in old beat up oil drums, painting tall shadows on the wall and in the hollows of our eyes. And of course there were more hollows, half of starving including me and Cristabel, with rib cages like Death’s own bony fingers reaching to clasp our waists. In the firelight I saw Cristabel look left, look right. Her friends, Analise and Jen were still watching Chev do his thing. The others had mostly turned back to him, but that was fine, that’s what I wanted. I laid the seeds carefully, with just my eyes. Something Chev would never learn, that sometimes, less is more. Why dance, burning calories, when your eyes will do?

When I looked away, Cristabel was already coming.

And then for a little bit it was bare footsteps slapping on cold concrete. Trains running on the bridge above my head, rattling the world.

It was an idea, just that. Everything, every little bit of what I had.

I fetched up against a rotten bridge pier, and waited.

“Hey!” Cristabel said a minute later. “You don’t actually know what keeneetaa is, do you?”

Don’t smile.

“’Course I do,” I said. “It’s simple.”

“No it isn’t,” she said. “If it was simple the scientists would have figured it out already.”

“Bells,” I said, “they ain’t figured it out precisely because it’s simple. Like when new-folk hit the streets in the last recession, and they was freezing to death because they didn’t know how to insulate and the like. They was scientists and bankers, that kinda shit, but it still took folk like us to tell ‘em.”

Cristabel looked away. In the half-dark of the bridge piers I saw her bite her lip again and nod. She’d been one of them that hit the streets in the last recession. High-born parents and the like. Analise and Jen, with some help from Chev and me, had gotten her all situated.

And I still remembered the color of her hair under all that mud.

“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, ok. Then what is it? Tell me, Ike.”

“Why you want to know?”

She laughed then. It spiraled off and I lost it in the rattling bridge as another train passed over. “Doesn’t everyone?” she asked. “It would be nice to feel like a sentient again. Or at least a human being.”

My pulse quickened up. My skin heated, burning calories.

“Step closer,” I said.

She hesitated, then did.

“Closer,” I said again.

And now she was within arms reach. Scarecrow limbs. Hair and eyes like the fires that we’d left behind.

“Close your eyes,” I told her.

“Ike…”

“It’s fine, you can trust me. Just close ‘em.”

She closed her eyes. Breathing. I guess that’s what she did then. It’s a fascinating thing to watch a girl breathe.

“Ike?” she said.

“It’s a thing they do with their lips. The aliens. Like this…”

And then I kissed her. Just like that. Soft and gentle, though it took everything I had not to grab at her. She’d gone stiff on me, stiff and scared, and didn’t soften till I stepped away, my hands pinned against my sides.

“Oh,” she said.

“What?” I said. “You thought that this was something else?”

“Maybe,” she said. Biting at her lip again.

“But was it nice? Did you feel like…”

“Like what?”

“Like a human?”

A moment passed. Back there Chev was probably still dancing. Idiot, but he'd been on to something. I’d thought about this since last winter, and hadn’t been brave enough to do it.

She whispered: “Yes.”

I whispered: “I’ve got a little food. Not much, just a bite. I’ll bring it to you, you don’t have to do anything.”

“Keeneetaa me again first,” she said.

I did.

And when we got back Chev was still there, dancing. The firelight brushed up against him, painted ecstasies across brick walls. He was smiling, I hadn’t noticed that before. Cristabel was too.

And me.

“Thanks, Chev,” I told him.

The night passed, and Chev danced on. In the morning, blessedly, it rained.

r/TurningtoWords

I worked for 20 years as a research assistant in a government secret project known as the Project Olympus. It’s main goal is to know how humans will become part of the intergalactic community and convince the extraterrestrials to accept us as equals. In short, to walk among the gods.

For hundreds of years, different types of aliens have been in connivance with leaders of the world to keep their existence hidden from the public.

On earth there are already twenty alien species that are doing business with us and with the other alien species staying here.

The most popular are the Greys, we call them Zeta Reticulans but they call themselves, Izho’karya. Then there’s the Reptilian humanoids or Draconians, but they call themselves Zygerethion. Another species you can mistaken to fays and elves, with almost ethereal features, we sometimes call Pleiadeans, but their race known to them as the Qartholan. And many more.

These three major aliens are hard to deal with. They have superiority complex. The Greys consider themselves as highly intelligent beings and mingling with humans are an insult to their intelligence. The Draconian are a fascist and xenophobic race. Anyone who is not them doesn’t matter. While the Qartholan were nearly immortals, they tend to just observe every life in the universe.

But the specie the governments are in constant communication with are the octopus-like creatures, known as the Khe’plan. They walk upright with bipedal legs, almost humanoid but they have extra boneless limbs protruding at their backs and two thin and long tentacles on their sides. They have bulbous heads, a pair of eyes in front flat nose, gills on the upper neck and beak for a mouth. They evolved to be amphibious creatures. And they are here as tourists. Earth is a known tourist destination to them.

“Asan’rho!” Shouted the President, as he entered the receiving room. A Khe’plan is sitting on the sofa, patiently waiting for us.

“Mr President. I hope you are doing well.” He stood and offered his hand for a shake but the president gave him a hug.

“I’m all well. Why it took you three years to pay me a visit? You were not here in my inauguration.” Mr President asked.

“You know i’m only here on vacations. I never would have thought you’ll become president!” Asan’rho answered.

“I prepared us a dinner, join me.” The president offered. Asan’rho shape-shifted into an old man wearing business suit before we could even leave the room.

The two had long conversations, trying to catch up with each other. The president canceled all his appointments that night. Then their conversation went to intergalactic community.

“You know one of my dreams is to be known as the president who brought Earth in the intergalactic community. But the Greys, Draconian and Pleiadeans still look down on us. If only one of them considered us as equals, the whole intergalactic community will accept us too.” The president said.

“I considered you as our equals. We both have so many similarities.” Asan’rho replied.

“I know that. And I appreciate it too. But we both know, the Khe’plan can’t recommend us to join the intergalactic community.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret. The intergalactic community doesn’t really consider humans as ‘sentient’ in our standards.”

“Why not? We can talk, we can communicate, we built communities, empires, orders. We created structures for ourselves.”

“Ye-ah, but ants, bees and termites does that too. But did you consider them sentient in your standards?”

Looking defeated, “Then how can we meet this standard you are talking about?”

“Humans doesn’t know how to Keeneetaa. Once you learned to Keeneetaa, you’ll be considered as one of us.”

“I don’t even know what Keeneetaa is, how am I supposed to achieve it if I don’t even know it?”

“I also don’t know how to explain it in a simple way.”

“What?”

“Okay, so, keeneetaa is like a severed mind. That you should be able to access in command. It is a network of hive mind connected to the great source and the cosmos. It sounds like tripping but you can compare it to almost dreaming. You can only access the network by simple leaving your conscious mind.”

“I still don’t get it.”

“Why do you think humans haven’t discovered space travel yet? Or at least stop believing in nonsensical religions? Or legends and mythos? You kinds hasn’t reach the keeneetaa that’s why you are still bonded by superstitious beliefs.”

“But by the way you were describing keeneetaa, it sounds like superstitious.”

“Keeneetaa is a network between hive minds gathered by the great source. When you die, your mind will merge with the keeneetaa and be one with the great source. The mortal body only gives us individuality. But your kind is so severely disconnected to the network by your worldly nature and the only chance you get to achieve keeneetaa is by dying.”

“So, you are telling me, all members of the intergalactic community has the ability to connect to this network of minds?”

“Yes, even the fascist Zygerethion can do keeneetaa, they just don’t usually do it as many of us do. You can mistaken keeneetaa to a sabbath day to you humans. But we do keeneetaa to refresh our minds.”

“Unless we learn to keeneetaa, we won’t be part of the intergalactic community?”

“Keeneetaa is the reason why there is an intergalactic community. Do you really think it is possible for millions of intergalactic species to live a harmonious life with one another? Without being connected in a web of understanding? That’s why other species are afraid to give you all our technologies. Once you have all of our technologies without being connected to the keeneetaa, you will only bring war on a galactic scale. Everyone knows that.”

“That’s a bit harsh. You also agree we only cause wars?” The president asked.

“Hey, i’m just being an honest friend here. Even you know how humans were in a short span of ten thousand years. Civilization rise and falls, wars broke thousand times. You can’t blame us for not including you in our community.” Asan’rho answered.

The Khe’plan visitor left the next day to continue his vacation on our planet, leaving our president pondering on what he learned.

But his dream is more important than the connection to keeneetaa. He will be known as the president who brought humans to the intergalactic community whatever the means are.

The Project Olympus was dissolved and replaced by Project Columbus.

The planet Earth is an uncharted planet, believed to be devoid of any sentient life. It lies in a lonely solar system in a silent galaxy called the "Milky Way," in the middle of Nowhere, Space. It was only recently that the Galactic Inquisition of Many Planets, or G.I.M.P., discovered a rudimentary civilization on the planet following the disappearance of the starship, the Righteous Endeavor. Earth is ruled by a species of bipedal, hairless primates related to various monkeys, which we also have in space. They are called Homo-Sapiens, which, ironically, means "wise man" in a basic linguistic structure known as "Latin." Colloquially, the Homo-Sapiens are referred to as "Humans."

The crew of the Righteous Endeavor survived their crash on Earth and, after being assaulted with primitive weaponry known as "Guns," communicated their status as G.I.M.P. operatives on a mission for peace and reestablished communication with their designated mothership, the Supreme Supremacy. Operative reports note many things about Humans and how they behave, most of it harrowing; however, there is one thing that each report mentions: Humans do not possess the ability to Keeneetaa.

Such a revelation may come as a surprise to some and a disgust to others; however, it must be noted that Humans are a simple, unintelligent species whose attempt at sapience comes as an insult to any being with a giant, pulsating brain, which is all of us. Humans have shown themselves to be a violent, warmongering species with a deranged desire to destroy their own planet. They spend their time idly watching others live their lives while judging them from their domiciles, where they lead pointless, sedentary lives. Humans have singlehandedly pioneered several forms of discrimination based on any wildly insignificant characteristics such as the color of one's skin or one's preferred sexual partner. Curiously, there have been Humans who have opposed these injustices, but it does not seem that they are gaining ground in their battle.

That Humans cannot Keeneetaa is a given, they are a shortsighted species with pitifully brief lifespans. However, it should be noted that there are individuals among the Humans who have unlocked the ability; their peers, however, on average, spurn the ideals necessary to Keeneetaa, likely due to a mixture of pride, entitlement, and ignorance. Humans are not a space faring society; they have yet to become a Type 1 civilization. They have, apparently, visited their moon exactly one time, which must be applauded, as it shows that even a broken Glorkcyx is right twice a Flazar. Their inability to Keeneetaa is emblematic of many problems plaguing Humans, the vast majority of which are self imposed. While admirable, their attempt at a global society is riddled with issues caused by greedy individuals extorting their workers and others who are complacent in this evil, having only known this system their entire pathetically short lives.

G.I.M.P. formed due to our collective ability to Keeneetaa. The forces of several galaxies came together after simultaneously reaching the apex of their technological developments and discovering a means to harness the power of entire solar systems; this caused a change in all sapient beings, we evolved to have massive, throbbing brains and telekinetic abilities. There was also a second discovery made at this time; that in order to prosper, the beings of these many planets must become as one and work toward the common good. In short, we learned to get over ourselves, which is the essence and definition of Keeneetaa. It still eludes Humans on a planetary scale, but those few who have unlocked the ability give the G.I.M.P. hope of welcoming Earth into our civilization.

This is my fourth global Keeneetaa symposium and I am tired. Tired of the constant bickering amongst the supposed best and brightest. So called giants from every conceivable field and discipline. Maylor from CERN, Andrews from Stamford, Shyapranapree from MIT, Nobel prize winners one and all. And for what?

By human standards these minds are exceptional. But cosmically they are comically limited. We know that now. The sheer hubris of the Copernican principle and the assumption of its modesty. Humans are special. But special in the way a parent never wants to hear their child described. And this annual gathering, with its formality, its ceremony and its pomposity. It makes these bones ache.

But here I am once again, standing shoulder to shoulder with self proclaimed titans. Unable to resist the invitation to the dance. Like a child drawn to a circus of freaks, I watch through splayed fingers. Ashamed by my fascination, yet thrilled by the absurdity of their being.

“Gremio, you made it old boy.”

Fuck. The last person I wanted to bump into was this clown.

“Maylor you old dog. Travelling light as always.” I say as I count his bags.

Four fucking cases and a giant chest. Louis Vuitton, of course, and his partner with her toy dog in a matching handbag.

”Are you joining us this evening?” Maylor asks.

”No, I need to catch up on some reading before the fun starts.”

”Pity, old boy. Everyone always finds you so entertaining.” Maylor says with a wry smile, before turning and flouncing off in the direction of the elevators, a bellboy in his wake, pushing a golden trolley laden with luggage.

Fuck you.

When I finally reach my room I’m exhausted. I can barely summon the energy to kick off my shoes as I flop onto the bed. It’s too soft. Hotel beds are always too fucking soft. I stare at the ceiling and watch the fan. How fast is it going? How many revolutions per minute? My eyes lose focus. The blur pirouettes to the whirring sound. The room melts, and from uncertainty emerges a dream. A lucid fitful dream. Of men and machines. Melding, morphing, metastasising. What if.

”Room service.” A voice calls.

I open my eyes. Where the fuck am I? I sit up and look at the man hovering next to a trolley by the open door.

”I, I sorry señor. The door, it was open. So I knock, and come in. ok?”

”The door was open?” I ask.

”Yes señor. Open, like this.” The man says, as he moves towards the door, opening it fully.

I get up from the bed, hand the man twenty dollars. He bows slightly, nods his head, thanks me and exits the room, leaving the door ajar.

I close the door, approach the trolley and uncover a large plate. The smell of burnt canola oil, charcoal, something sweet, something sharp and sour. Limp fries, the top of a pale and sparsely seeded sesame bun, hollow to the tap, sat juxtaposed, and crookedly aloof, atop two treacle coloured patties. Between them a barely melted square of white Jack. I lift the top, turning it to find blackened edges ringing a stain of ketchup, and two crinkle cut slivers of anaemic pickle plastering a gaping wound. I look down to see torn lettuce laying defeated, dead beneath the cauterised meat. I lift the patties as one congealed lump, and with an outstretched finger rummage between the limp sheets, finding myself cuticle deep in a bed of reconstituted dough. I eat it ravenously, inhaling it, pushing handfuls into both sides of my mouth. Forcing the barely chewed mass into my oesophagus, feeling my neck bulge as the melee continues. Until I’m done. Energy consumed.

I sleep without incident, shower and choose my outfit carefully. Breakfast will only make me sluggish, so I opt for water with a twist of lemon, the citric acid will help keep me sharp. I join the delegates in the main suite, where Maylor summons me to the stage.

“It’s my pleasure once again to welcome to the stage our esteemed guest, Gremio. Please show them your appreciation.” Maylor says, as he rises from his chair and gestures towards me.

I take a seat beside him and nod my head in acceptance, while ninety three million miles away I am gamma rays bursting from the centre of a star. It is not possible to explain the nature of things to such feeble minds. Humanity will end in 8 minutes.

Humanity looked on in awe as the spaceship touched down. The contact before was minimal, simply a transmission saying they would come to assess them. The world’s leaders all gathered around as the hatch opened and alien life touched down on Earth for the first time. It’s shiny green skin seemed to flow and jiggle as it looked around, it’s deep purple eyes assessing the crowd gathered around it. One of the human leaders stepped forward. “Welcome to our planet, we are overjoyed to have you here.”

The alien did not respond. A tenseness started to form in the atmosphere as it continued to scan everything around it. After a while longer, it let out something that seemed approximate to a sigh, turned around, and re-entered it’s ship. A short sentence escaped under its breath, “There is no Keeneetaa…” And with that, it left, returning to the stars from whence it came.

And no one knew why.

20 Years Later

The fallout from the event seemed worrisome at first. What went wrong? What was a Keeneetaa? Would they ever return? But from that panic, inspiration started to develop. Clearly, if humanity lacked this “Keeneetaa”, they would need to acquire it. And so, a new golden age for the world arrived, seeing progress in science, art, philosophy, and more. All in search of the nebulous “Keeneetaa”. If the aliens returned, no, when they returned, humanity would show that they had what they needed to join the rest of the universe.

And so that day came. And it played out much the same. The alien arrived, assessed them all, then left muttering the same words, “No Keeneetaa…” But surely they had tried their hardest? Who was there to blame?

50 Years Later

Surely they must be to blame! The thought reverberated in the head of every world leader. The aliens must have been offended by them, something in their culture or appearance, something that made the aliens think worse of the rest of them, the better parts of humanity! And so the tension started to boil over. It started with small political disagreements, a rejection of a proposal here, a denial of a trade agreement there. But it did not take that long to turn to war. Soon the entire world was engulfed, a never-ending climate of death and destruction.

It only ceased when the transmission came again. The “peace” came quick, as countries rushed to make themselves more presentable for the coming assessment. But it again played out the same, with the phrase passing the visitor’s lips once more, “No Keeneetaa…” It took even shorter for the “peace” to end.

100 Years Later

Joshua did not know if he was the last of humanity. He had not seen another living human since his mother died some 12 years ago, but the world is a big place, thought Joshua, emptily optimistic. However, whether he was the last one or not, he knew he was dying, if not from his sickness, from his lack of food and water. But then in the sky, he saw it. The ship landed right in front of him, and out stepped the alien, the one from the stories his mother told.

He stumbled up to it. “Please…” he begged, “Please help me, take me away from here!” As that false hope he carried all this time fell away. The alien stared at him, saying nothing. Then it turned around, went back into it’s ship, and muttered once again, “No Keeneetaa…” The ship flew away, and Joshua wouldn’t have been surprised if the alien hadn’t even actually noticed him.

An Unknown Time Later

The Idira thrived on earth, their precursors, humans, had left much technology behind, which let the Idira evolve societally at a rapid pace. And they had reached what they believed to be the next step. A transmission from deep space arrived, saying they were to be assessed. Surely not even humanity, as great as they were, had had this chance.

The day finally came, the space ship landed in front of the gathered world leaders, and the hatch opened. The alien stepped out and and looked around. A world leader stepped forward, giving a customary Idira welcome. The alien stayed silent. Then, it turned around, seemed to sigh, said “No Keeneetaa…”, and left.

A Practical Joke

The boisterous surrounding crowd fell silent as the small spacecraft descended, a silver disk so stereotypical it was almost laughable falling gently from an overcast sky.

It touched down lightly as a soap bubble, the silence stretching thin but holding fast until a small hatch in the craft's underside slid open to an accompanying jubilant roar.

Aliens! It was true, they were real, we were not alone and Company had arrived!

A stout, oddly adorable rounded alien creature waddled solemnly out of the hatch, blinking four large luminous eyes in the Earth's brightly lit atmosphere. It surveyed the crowd minutely. The crowd rumbled slowly back into silence. An interminable few moments passed.

"Keeneetaa?" said the alien at last, a plaintive note jangling in its otherwise dulcet tone.

Silence. Everyone wondered, what did that mean?

The alien's eyes were distant and sad. After a while it slowly shook its head. Without another sound it turned and waddled, crestfallen, back up to the hatch, which engulfed it and then folded up neatly and closed itself tight. The spacecraft flew away.

Humanity was left mystified. Keeneetaa? Every scientist on earth bent their minds to study. What was keeneetaa? Speculation ran amok. Theories abounded. Every academic journal and every university course and every political conversation began to revolve around the question of keeneetaa.

A few years later the alien returned to the scene of its initial appearace.

Sniggering a bit, it whispered to its two alien friends, "Watch this!"

"What?" asked one friend while the other asked excitedly, "Did they fall for it?"

"Just watch," the first alien told them, and opened the hatch.

It waddled out once more, this time to a sea of humans all shouting together, "Keeneetaa! Keeneetaa!"

The two alien friends turned to one another, laughing. "Oh my stars, they did fall for it!"

"That's mean," one alien friend finally gasped. "You're corrupting their culture."

"They'll be fine."

"Keeneetaa!" cried the other alien friend hysterically, still laughing.

Keeneetaa is an obscene Ferblornian slang word that translates roughly to "Genitalia."

"It has been two years since first contact, and this stupid word had haunted my dreams," I heard her say before slamming her head into the desk she was sitting at. "Like, what the hell does it mean? It has no structure. It is like saying you have no Bubblples, they left us a word without meaning!"

She was Penny, a brilliant girl who had been grinding her gears since the Greybal ship had appeared and taken 'volunteers' out into the Galaxy. Of course when they returned they took more and our translators had learned that the word they were using didn't mean space or a council. It was a zoo. They were taking people to be exhibits in a zoo.

Outrage followed, and then this idea 'keeneetaa' came about. Penny and I were among dozens of students that were deemed gifted and but into this accelerated course to deal with this. Of course there were hundred of programs focused on it, we weren't 'that' special.

"Penny, have you considered...they were fucking with you? With all of us? Leaving a riddle behind so that we focus on that instead of something else?"

Penny blinked forehead still firmly planted on her desk.

She slowly sat up, and looked me dead in the eye.

It was a long moment, before she suddenly swore as well.

I was sure that they had been monitoring our communications, and laughing as we continued to focus on their 'sentience' requirement, forgetting our outrage about the abductions and instead the insult of being considered animals.

"I thought Greybalans couldn't lie due to their telepathic communication?"

"Yeah, but who told us that?"

She swore again, and began to lament how long it had taken her. I lightly patted her head. I had figured it out a while ago, but I wasn't the first.

No, the first was Jacob and now he is gone. The next day everyone else seemed to forget and move on, but I didn't. So I watched, observed and realized.

My gaze flicked over to just behind the desk of our teacher, a desk that had never been filled. There one of many lenses could be seen if you looked for it. We were in the zoo, we were an exhibit for these aliens.

I didn't know what would happen to us now, but I couldn't wait anymore. Penny and I were the last...and I wasn't going to watch her go too. I had once thought of telling her about how i felt, but wanted to wait until we graduated. Two years had passed here, and we would have graduated months ago.

We were trapped, and only the next step brought us any hope for change...

I listened as Penny continued to build on my theory, and I merely listened.

If anything...

...it was just nice to hear her voice one more time.

It had only been five days since the aliens had made contact with humans, and already the world was in turmoil. The aliens, with their translucent hue and hive-like appearance, were unlike anything humans had ever seen before. But what was even more shocking was their assertion that humans were not sentient because they could not "keeneetaa".

The governments of the world had scrambled to try to understand what "keeneetaa" meant. Teams of linguists and scientists worked around the clock to analyze every scrap of data they had gathered from the aliens, as well as scouring through historical records of earth. But so far, they had come up empty.

The public reaction to the aliens' assertion had been a mix of anger and disbelief. How could these aliens claim that humans were not sentient? Surely, the ability to reason and feel emotions was enough to qualify as sentient.

Despite the confusion and fear, there were some who believed they had figured out the meaning of "keeneetaa" or had come close to understanding it. A group of scientists theorized that "keeneetaa" referred to a kind of psychic ability that the aliens possessed, which allowed them to communicate with each other telepathically. This theory gained traction among some members of the public, who began to speculate about how humans might develop such an ability.

The presence of the aliens had already started to have an impact on human society. Budget allocations had changed to fund more space exploration and research into developing faster methods of space travel. People all around the world were captivated by the news of the aliens, and many were eager to learn more about them.

Some individuals and groups had attempted to communicate with the aliens using methods other than language, such as music or art. But so far, the aliens had not responded to any of these efforts.

Despite the tension and uncertainty, both humans and aliens had made sure to be careful, cautious, and polite. There had been no incidents or conflicts between the two species since their initial contact. However, it was clear that the aliens possessed a greater understanding and knowledge of the universe than humans did. This fact left many wondering what other secrets the aliens held, and what the implications of those secrets might be for the future of humanity.

A tear fell from Brian's eye as he saw the light come on. Everything went quiet for a moment before the herd of humans started wailing out in fear. They knew what was coming. Brian watched helplessly as they were rounded up and pushed out of their cages and into lines.

"You can't do this to us! It's wrong!" Brian screamed from his cage. It wasn't yet his time, but he knew what the light meant for the others. He tried to look the alien species in the eye. He still didn't know who they were, where they came from, what they were called. All he knew was one day, they had enslaved humanity. One day they had put them in cages where they could barely move. And that one day they would make the walk... one day the light would be for them.

"Why are you doing this?" Brian screamed again. The anger pulsating from his voice, so coarse from his shouts and his demands and his cries. From his tears. There was a glance from one of the aliens and almost a smirk back. They hit the cage a few times to shut him up. So Brian screamed again.

Zzzzzaaaaapp

It wasn't the first time Brian had been prodded, like cattle. Brian had even worked on a farm before, but that was a long time ago. Brian convulsed and when he finally went limp and quiet, the aliens stopped poking him. It wasn't clear what language the aliens spoke. It wasn't clear how much they knew of humanity. It seemed to Brian, though, that they could communicate telepathically. They didn't look so different, but it was certain they were smarter, faster, stronger than humans. They spoke in several languages, and sometimes none at all. They coordinated almost like a hive, with a singular goal, but also at times with such incredible individuality.

It had all happened so suddenly.

Brian didn't remember much before the cages. The sight, the smell, the horrors of seeing the aliens enslave humanity had wiped out most of what came before. The smell of the metal, of the excrement, of the blood and shit that filled the air. And every so often the screams of another batch of humans filled it too. They were prodded and coaxed and forced through the door. They all had to make the walk in the end.

As far as the eye could see, everything now was cages. Human after human curled up, cramped, stuffed into the cages. The bars were close enough together that you couldn't get out. Others had tried, and dislocated their arms or their legs trying to squeeze their bodies through. It seems the cages were specifically designed for their size and shape. Screaming in agony on the floor, everyone else had to watch as the aliens came through to inspect. And that only meant one thing for the person who had tried to escape... the hammers were brought down on their heads until their lifeless bodies were dragged out.

The bars were also far enough apart that you could see everything around you. You could see everyone around you. Their pain was so close it almost felt like your pain. And at the end of the rows and rows of cages stacked upon each other were the doors. No-one was told what happened beyond them, but everyone knew. They heard the screams, the shouts, and worst of all eventually they heard the silence. It was deafening.

One time Brian saw a glimpse through the doors. He had seen bodies, so many bodies, limp and lifeless, thrown into giant dumpsters. Further down he saw metal contraptions that shredded more and more of the people. But it made no sense. Why would they do this?

"Why are you doing this to us? Why won't you stop this?" Brian pleaded. "What can we do?" But again the aliens didn't say anything and Brian once again collapsed, exhausted, to sleep for the night.

That evening a familiar stench of flesh filled the air. Brian's batch were herded into the empty cages left by the previous group. They could still smell the previous occupants in those cages, they could still hear them in their thoughts. And their dreams were filled with the faces of those who came before them.

...

The next day Brian woke up to a bright light. It was warm on his face, almost comforting. He suddenly remembered things that had happened before the cages. He remembered being with his family, his parents, running around and playing somewhere. He couldn't quite make out where it was, but he felt happy. He felt safe. The warm light reminded him of home. And then his stomach dropped to the worst feeling he had ever felt in his life.

His eyes slowly opened and the truth smacked him in the face and he froze in terror. The light was shining on him. It was shining on him and his batch.

Some others in the nearby cages began to scream. Some of them shouted in terror. Others tried to plead with the aliens, but they never responded. While others seemed to accept their fate. Each individual was quickly prodded out of their cage onto a conveyor belt of sorts. It was elaborate, a maze of wires and belts, but it all led through the same doors at the end of the hall. They were so cramped Brian was pushed up against other bodies, other humans he had to remind himself, on all sides. They were humans after all, Brian thought. They were brought to their lowest form, their base instincts. ""Is this what they wanted?" Brian thought. "To show us who we are at our base?" Brian had asked himself so often what the aliens could want. But it never seemed to make a difference. And the cold, harsh reality began to settle in.

Brian felt nauseous. He trudged silently along with the rest as the belt sped up their walk, hastening their march to the inevitable.

Zzzzaaaaapppp

A sharp pain filled Brian's body from the side, an alien had prodded him and was shouting at him to hurry up. What exactly was said he didn't know but it was clear what was meant. "Hurry up to your doom, hurry up to your death". They had no compassion, these aliens. They had no empathy. They treated us like animals just because we aren't at their level. "Don't they know we're alive?" Brian thought. "Don't they know we can feel, we can think, we can experience this?". Those thoughts had swirled through his head for what felt like years, but was in reality just weeks.

Brian watched as the line along the belt started to become less and less crowded and more and more orderly. He stood in horror as giant hooks claimed each person on the belt. They dug into the back and neck and hoisted each person off the ground. They swung round to a line where in the distance, yes, not so far in the distance Brian saw what was happening. It felt like a lifetime but it also went by so fast and Brian rounded the corner to see it all in front of him.

The hooks dug into his flesh, driving further and further into his shoulder blades. Brain winced from the pain, but gave up struggling because it hurt more every time he did. Instead, he saw in front of him lines and lines of people hung on the hooks, turned upside down and in the distance, in the far distance, the aliens were stood in front of them.... slitting their throats.

Everything flashed through Brian in that moment again as the panic set in. "This can't be happening! This is a dream!" He thought. The anger, the rage, the pleading raced through his system as his eyes darted around the room for an answer. "Don't do this" he squealed out, too meek for anyone to actually hear.

Brian was carried along the belt. Frozen in fear... terrorised, until finally the chain stopped, abruptly. The pain shocked him back to his senses and Brian was face to face, if you could call it that, with one of them. Brian stared him, her, it in the eye. One large eye that seemed to take in everything around it. "You really are doing this, aren't you? At least tell me why..."

Finally the alien spoke.

"For all your life you did this to others. For all your life you paid for others to herd up those you considered inferior and round them up in cages. This is the life you paid for... and for what exactly?" The alien reached out a hand, if you could call it that, and pointed to a sign. "Processing" it read.

In shock, Brian could only stare forward remembering what had happened to all those before him, knowing what was about to happen to him, and now sure that these aliens understood what they were doing. The alien's hand, if it was a hand, picked up the knife. He was calm, almost seemed to be enjoying himself as he looked at Brian in the eye.

"You still don't understand that what you do, what you believe, who you are applies to more than just humans. This is why we treat you as you treated others. Those others who you called your inferiors. So we do the same. Just as they were dinner for you, you will be our dinner for today".

It finally sank in for Brian. The cages, the hooks, the door, even the light. "But they were just animals!" Brian screamed. Though in truth it only came out like a whimper. "They weren't like us. They weren't as smart, they weren't as alive, they weren't as sentient as us", Brian said.

But he was met with silence. Brian looked around him at the line, slowed down now for him. He knew what was next and it felt like an age before it happened, though in reality it was only a few seconds.

A searing pain ran through his neck and his head and Brian knew in that moment the knife had done it's work. All he could do was helplessly accept his fate. His body thrashed around, completely out of control. It no longer felt like his body as he watched blood pour out from the gaping wound in his throat and drip onto the cold, hard, steel floor with the rest of the blood. "This is it..." he thought as he felt sleepier and sleepier and everything faded to black...

"Exactly" the alien said. "Exactly".

They had arrived one day with little fanfare and just took over. Mankind had tried to mount a defense, but after a year of fighting, they had won. And life returned to an uneasy state of what it had been before. The new overlords made the rules now, of course.

Many had been asking what the aliens had wanted, why they didn't communicate, and what their overall goal was now. They did not come to earth for its minerals or water. They did not come to turn humans into work slaves or food or computers. They did not even force their way of life onto humanity. They had built their palaces everywhere on earth and they were flying in and out of them regularly. Some people were selected to enter, but they usually didn't come back out. Usually, because some did. Most that got out were just let go, others appeared to have escaped. But through those few, mankind finally learned what the overlords saw in them in humans as a whole.

To them, humans were some higher animals. Yes, they acknowledged that we weren't just like any animals, they saw mankind's empathy, compassion, and creativity. But to them, humans still didn't appear fully sentient. Something they thought humans were lacking. And so, the entirety of earth had become a resort for them, with humans as the main attraction. For that, they repaired the damages of war and global warming. They had given humans knowledge. Of better medicine and means to produce near-limitless amounts of power through fusion. But they didn't change human society. And so they watched as humans did as humans do, while from time to time taking people into their places as pets.

In the decades to come, every once in a while some movement would form to finally uplift humans or to let them have sovereignty over their world again, but it was always shut down. Humans lacked Keeneeta, they would always lack Keeneeta and they could never be uplifted. And left alone, because of their lack of Keeneeta, they would eventually destroy themselves, as many other forms of higher animals in the cosmos did before the conservation program had been created. And because the conservation of an entire species of essentially dumb animals was hard and costly, of course, said species would have to pay for this great gift with an eternity of servitude. If one could call it that.

The fact that humans could grasp most of the concepts of their overlord's society and technology, to the point where the overlords had to implement rules and humans and alien enforcers to keep humanity from progressing too fast and too far, just meant to them that it was paramount that humans were not allowed to eradicate themselves with wars and the destruction of the global climate. Life in the universe was mostly comprised of stupid things, that mindlessly fed on even more stupid things. Humans were so close to being actually sentient, from the overlord's perspective, that they could not be allowed to not exist.

Much later, a slightly more docile humanity learned, through unclear circumstances, that Keeneeta was of course a made-up concept, that the intergalactic community had outlawed centuries ago, but the solar system was just too far out of reach of any authority that it didn't change anything. And so their overlords had claimed the milky way and just enslaved every species they could find and turned their home worlds into giant zoos. And most of them regressed, falling into a state of decay until they were just mere animals, much to the overlord's great entertainment. But humans proved to be different enough. Mankind adapted and endured. Waiting for their turn.

[deleted]

ever since man first looked to the skies we have always wondered if we are alone, in ages past we could only but grasp at the stars in our minds, stories and tales of what the worlds out there could be like, the meaning of the stars, wars and rivers of blood where spilt in hopes of there secrets revealed, but no answer ever came.

But now we can do more then merely see the worlds beyond our own, we where able to walk on them, stand on there long dead surfaces, and what we found there was nothing less then spectacular, strange caves paintings of the moon, long forgotten and eroded structures on the surface of mars, strange floating structures hidden by the moons of Saturn and Venus.

The singes of life, definitive proof of life not only out there, but at our very door steps, how foolish we where to so eagerly seek such life, so busy where we with the thought of finding it that we never considered the consequence of us or it finding us, so excited where we nobody seemed to ask why it was all abandon, why we could not find any fossils or even a trace of life that once was so obviously there.

though all these strange ruins where so distinct one thing remained consistent, a low hum, found in each and every coroner of these ruins, so low we could hardly hear it, for decades we tried to find the answer to what it was, to the last rhythm of these empty places, the sound never ceased, and the more we where around it the more infatuated we seemed to become.

Eventually we where able to make some sense of it, its only now i wish we hadn't, it was a message telling all how could listen the truth of the universe, not only where we not alone, in fact we where being watched, by things far bigger then us, like ants in a glass chamber we where, watched, observed, poked and prodded, made ready for the keeneetaa.

We didn't understand at first, some thought it a miss translation or miss communication, but none could find any other answer, eventually all would join the keeneetaa, it started small here or there, miracles of the mind, some could lift small rocks or make fire form the air itself, but as time went on it only grew stronger, eventually the sound of the ruins rang loud and clear in every corner of the earth, even in the most isolated of places.

we heard it in our sleep, in our every waking hour, over and over again, the worst of it all started in a town in Iceland, people could hear each other's thoughts, eventually they stooped speaking as individuals, they talked more like there one person, they said they had joined the keeneetaa, they became a special, as is often the case we where blind to the horror that was to unfold.

An amalgam coursed the see form that town, children, woman and men alike all combined into a mass of flesh, saying the same thing over and over “join us, join the keeneetaa, become truth” most ran, some gladly gave themselves to it, we tried to stop it, but nothing had an effect, even the mighty nuke could do nothing but make it stop for an hour, that clump of flesh just grew back, the more we hurt it the more clear its shape became, it wasn't long before country after country was consumed,its voice grew louder and louder, shaking mountains and rocking the waters.

Eventually it decided to calm the earth for itself, strange rotes made of flesh latched themselves to the earth, so large was it that it crashed with the clouds above, in a weak humanity was gone, now replaced by its next step the keeneetaa, after that it left, racing of in to the stars, i am all that's left, stuck here on Jupiter's surface, though i doubt i have much time left, food and water and running low and i have no way of getting more, i lost contact with base Apollo on mars three days ago, the sound has grown louder as of late, it comfort me in these trying time, i know they will come for me, and when they do i to will join.

Welcome to the Prompt! All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments.

Reminders:

>* No AI-generated reponses 🤖 >* Stories 100 words+. Poems 30+ but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* [RF] and [SP] for stricter titles >* Be civil in any feedback and follow the rules

🆕 New Here? ✏ Writing Help? 📢 News 💬 Discord

I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please contact the moderators of this subreddit if you have any questions or concerns.

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]

[removed]