Image Credit: NASA/Jessica Meir
The aliens, Josh and Kennedy (not their names but the translation of vibe and meaning from their original tongue … again, not tongue but they did have a speaking diaphragm and ligament contraption producing language through pressure waves) watched the nanoprobes return the visuals from a Florida explosion. Humans were throwing themselves off the planet … again.
Did they need to tell Karen or not? She didn’t like getting woken from her cryogenic sleep for nothing, but she also would hate to miss the main event. The very reason their monitoring station took over from the general scientific observation station three hundred years ago when humans got their balloons above the required distance from their natural environment.
But the humans were always sending debris into space, so it could be a false alarm. And Karen, their boss, progenitor, and neurological hub, made it very, very clear about her displeasure the last time they woke her.
Would this one rocket meet up with one of the various space stations the humans had around their planet, or would they make it to the moon? Or would they (vibration of dramatic disbelief) make it beyond the moon?
Kenndy reviewed the incoming transmissions and cross-verified, “Humans are on the rocket this time. It isn’t just a satellite.”
“Or a car,” Josh ran an appendage over his sensory organs. “Why did they send a ground vehicle into space-space and not to a planet?”
“The social scientists said it was a musical prophecy being fulfilled.”
“I think it was a drunk bet. Like every one of these.” He adjusted his position to an input-output station. “’Hold my intoxicating beverage while I see how much dinosaur fuel I need distilled to be blown upwards faster than gravity without dying?’”
“Not everyone lives in a gas giant and can glide into escape velocity over a two-year cycle.”
“They are crazy.”
“They are, the rocket is, aiming toward an elliptical. Running stimulated orbits now.” Looking over the results closely, Kennedy muttered, “So close. So, so close.”
“Really, how close?” Hope tinged Josh’s vibrations.
“Depending on the exact placement, we might be within a digital appendage of the regulation Distance. It certainly will be the furthest they have ever gone before.”
“Do you want to wake Karen or shall I?” Josh asked.
“I woke her the last time.”
“Ugh.” Josh set his stations to artificial monitoring. “Is this the same country initiating conflict in the delta region this year or it is the one in the icy area four years ago or is it one of the others?”
“The one that started the irreplaceable dinosaur remains burning this year.”
“Okay then. While I start cycling the cryogenic chambers, you prepare the ‘we come in peace’ propaganda for them to join the Galactic Union in the … how many languages are still active on the planet?”
“Over seven thousand,” Kennedy let her diaphragm collapse in exhaustion just thinking about it.
“At least there won’t be much change since we last updated them fifty years ago.” Working his way to where the scientists and administration slept, Josh reassured Kennedy, “And don’t worry about locking targets if they react poorly to our outreach program. I rework them every time they start a shooting war using equipment in the upper atmosphere. They are completely up-to-date.”
“Wait a moment.” Kennedy set the elliptical equation running through two additional models. “The computer reports they will be at least half a digit short of regulation in four out of the five predictive models.”
“Centimeters shy?” Josh glanced over the threshold where their boss slept. “Do we or don’t we? How long before they reach the furthest they have ever gone before?”
“Five Earth days.”
“Wake processing is only fifteen hours.”
“Let’s wait.” The two youthful monitors said simultaneously.
“I’m still updating the WCIP messages.” Kennedy said.
“And I will work the resolutions to removing their threat matrix should they be dangerous.”
“They throw themselves off planet via explosions, and” Kennedy waved where their system still recorded the ongoing detonations worldwide even as the humans brushed the greatness to qualify for galactic inclusion, ”that. They are going to be dangerous.”
“After monitoring them for three hundred years, I really would like them to be a little more mature.” Josh said while returning to his station.
“Same.”
“At least the final decision isn’t ours.”
“Thank prosperity for the Karens in the universe.”
(words 734; first published 4/5/2026)
Enjoyed this. The alien perspective on human actions made for some fun lines/observations.
Outsider-looking-in is always a fun character to write to reimagine a world.
Of course a Karen would be in charge. I don’t have faith in us. We won’t get far enough for it to matter.
I keep hoping.
Brilliant! I’d like us to be a little more mature, too. I can just imagine the disappointment these poor aliens feel.
The supervisors will be “well, another one is done, time to move on” but the kids keep hoping.
I love this. Timely and beautifully done. Thank you.
Thank you. It was fun to write.