In the darkness of space, stars give off light. Without that, their existence would be unknown.
Here on Earth, the existence of extraterrestrial life is still up for debate. There are too many shaky videos and blurry photos, much of it laughable. It’s the darkness. It’s always the darkness. Darkness generates so many questions. Darkness can make it hard to distinguish reality from fantasy, truth from fiction.
One raining summer morning, when the city was at its busiest, one question was answered. Light from the sky broke through the thick, dark clouds, angling in across the vertical columns of skyscrapers. The light—it certainly wasn’t sunlight—was green. Anyone familiar with the sky knows that at 8:30 in the morning the sun is just above the tips of the skyscrapers. This light seemed more like noon light, not morning light. Everyone was rushing to work, lost in their own worlds. No one paid attention to the light. Had anyone paid attention, they might have expected colorful prism rays, or a mist to surround the shaft of light, for it hardly seemed to be an ordinary beam. It had to be from another world. Then the light started to crackle. It sounded like a large ship easing into the dock. That’s when people started to look. On their faces was only fear. It reminded most of them of September 11, 2001. It pulled them in, like a visual vacuum. It had the effect of a reverse wind, not pulling them forward, but pushing them back. Most had to grab onto street signs and door handles and anything else they could find. Two minutes later, it stopped. People went back to their daily lives as if it had never happened.
“Only the meek can distinguish between a good conscience and a bad one.”
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