There's a Form for That

There’s a Form for That

It began as a whisper. One by one, the stars went out over a period of weeks, just a few at first and then whole sections of sky until all that remained were our familiar worlds reflecting the light of the sun. Then Neptune went missing, vanishing without a trace before Uranus was gone. Even the largest worlds weren’t spared. Only our Earth, Venus, Mercury, and the sun remained. It was such a strange thing to look up at a completely blackened night sky, the rest of the universe completely snuffed out and it didn’t take long for our scientist to discover the reason. Radio telescopes detected an ominous void devouring our solar system, swallowing everything in its path and headed for Earth. There was nothing we could do.

Panic ensued worldwide, rioting and looting, all of it ultimately pointless. Mass hysteria gripped the Earth, suicides skyrocketing as people dropped from bridges, stretched their necks, and too eagerly pulled the trigger. Cities were set ablaze as humanity descended into its lowest form, cornered like a desperate animal in a trap we couldn’t escape.

Thankfully, a few of us kept our heads, despite inevitability bearing down on us, leaders from around the world with enough temerity to stare death in the face. I was the United Nation’s delegate from Canada, thrust into the role of Secretary General when my predecessor took the easier way out, throwing himself from a window.

Then the day came when the sun went out, followed by the moon, and their ships appeared in our darkened skies all over the world. We hoped for an audience and got it, a towering avatar materializing before us in the General Assembly. I’d like to say we were ready, but I sure as hell wasn’t. Commanding and terrifying, the alien loomed over us, leaving no doubt of who was in charge. Of course, every news organization around the world broadcasted their arrival for the nations and for just a moment, the panic-stricken Earth was fearfully silent.

“People of Karalox Pavlova, prepare to be judged!” The great being said with a powerful, throaty voice, reverberating across the planet and driving terror into the hearts of men. “Have you any final words, any testament for posterity prior to your destruction?”

As the reluctant appointed leader of the Assembly, I stepped nervously forward. “Um, we’re not quite sure what a Karalox is,” I admitted. “Or a Pavlova for that matter.” I looked doubtfully back to my fellow delegates then returned my attention to the looming alien. “Anyways, welcome to Earth.”

My admission was met by an unexpected silence and apparent confusion, followed by the echoing sound of shuffling from a source outside the projected image. “Earth?” the alien thundered, suddenly less menacing and more confused. “That can’t be right. Are you sure?”

“Uh, yeah…pretty sure. Lived here my whole life.”

“Hold on.” It was a strange request, considering the end of the world. Then there was more shuffling followed by, “Just another moment please. Thanks for your patience.” More quietly now, almost as if caught on a hot mic, humans around the world heard, “What do you mean this is the wrong planet? How can we be fifty light-years off? Really?” Then, he pulled a handful of paperwork from the ether and shouted, “Wait! These forms aren’t right! How did we get the permits without a complete application?” He released a frustrated sigh. “Surrounded by idiots!”

Then an unexpected miracle occurred. Alien ships began pulling back into space, only the largest of their fleet remaining. “Well…this is awkward,” he fidgeted and inched away. “So sorry about all this. Terrible mix-up, really. You see, we thought you guys were the people of Karalox Pavlova. Bunch of cowardly thieves, those Pavlovians. Still, third planet from the sun, single moon, I’m sure you understand the confusion. Honest mistake really!” the alien chuckled guiltily then feigned innocence. “Wow! That could’ve been messy! Anyways…have a great day,” he concluded too quickly as his image drifted away.

The final vessel disappeared in a sudden flash and not long afterwards, the planets and stars returned as if nothing had happened at all. Left with our dead and burning cities we learned something important while facing our own mortality. Our brush with death taught us the value of life – not to take it for granted because it could be extinguished in something as simple as a bureaucratic snafu. Besides, we also learned to never trust a Pavlovian, whatever that was.


750 words