by Ant Ryan
This creature is taller and fatter than me, has a white body and large shiny head with no eyes visible. It has wider arms and legs than any man I have seen. Its movements are slow, I am faster, but I hope it doesn’t get any closer.
Crackling, what sounds like voices are received by my spacesuit. Could it be trying to communicate?
Unable to understand it, I access the suit’s synaptic-translator.
“That's one small step for man,” the creature says. “One giant leap for mankind.”
Sounds like an explorer. My suit identifies it as human, registering another still inside the ship with a third in orbit.
No, there are more; many more. My readings identify 3.6 billion on a planet within 200,000 lengths of my position. The Celestial Spheres don’t have that many humans, just a few million spread across many worlds.
I’m outside our Spheres, in the unknown Universe. That’s why I can’t fly. I wished to see the cosmos, but now I’m terrified. I don’t have any power here, wherever here is.
The depressing statistics from my suit continue onto the superimposed visual display. Apparently, many species populate the nearby world, but not a single Potent, Scient or Present. A world where humans are free to rule is not a safe place for me. If they were to discover what our kind does to them, they might kill me. I feel vulnerable away from my home.
These 3.6 billion humans are too advanced and should be brought under the control of our people. Stopped before they grow stronger; I’m sure my teachers would agree with my appraisal.
My head goes light. The starlight fades. I faint.