From the Sky

They came from the sky, just as they'd said they would, and everyone was impressed because of course you would be if someone arrived from outer space in a brightly-colored rocket ship covered in messages of peace and hope.

They'd said they would several days prior, via text message to the mayor. "Coming from the sky on Thursday, weather permitting. Please assemble in the town square to witness." At any rate, that's what the PR flack from city hall said the text said. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn that it had mostly been emojis, or that the, "weather permitting," part had been standard CYA by the mayor's office in case they didn't show up and we all had to stand there in the rain looking stupid and getting wet.

But as it happened, the weather was lovely, a bit cool for that time of year but clear and sunny. Not a cloud in the sky. If I'd been the mayor and I'd had something inserted about, "weather permitting," I would have been sweating as the minutes ticked by, wondering if there was any hope of convincing people that good weather interfered with the operation of brightly-colored rocket ships.

We all came. It wasn't every day you got to see them come from the sky. Sure, it wasn't exactly news, not anymore, after the big reveal in the capital with the governor and all, but still, it was unlikely to happen again in our town. And they were heroic, in their own way. So we wanted to see them arrive, even if arrival wasn't exactly the right word. It was an arrival for us.

The rocket ship touched down and they got out and shook hands with the mayor and posed for a few photos next to the podium which had looked brightly-colored until their rocket ship showed up and made it seem rather dingy by comparison. And we cheered and tried to take our own photos and, in the case of a few heartier citizens, tried to force our way through the throng and the barrier of police to touch them as they passed on their way to city hall. A few lucky and wealthy citizens got to join the mayor and get their own handshakes and pictures.

At that point no one knew what the visitors ate, so the appetizers and drinks were nixed by someone in the chain of command. The visitors hadn't eaten anything at any of their other appearances, and anyway they were wearing those bubble helmets which would make eating difficult. So, while I didn't see it, I like to imagine the mayor and his rich, lucky guests entertaining the visitors while secretly wishing they had something, anything to eat or drink. Imagine a fancy party with no booze or finger food.

After precisely two hours, the visitors politely excused themselves. They had another engagement and had to dash. They were very polite. And the assembled crowd, smaller at this point because of attrition due to their own hunger or thirst, got to cheer again as the visitors returned to their brightly-colored rocket ship, waving as they went, and then sealed the hatch and departed. And we all stood for a moment staring at the sky and thinking grand things about the promise of a new age, of friendship between worlds, of a brighter tomorrow when maybe one day we too could come from the sky to other places, in our own brightly-colored rocket ships covered with messages of peace and hope.

And we never saw them again. And life remained basically the same for a while, and then got steadily worse, until we all had bigger problems to worry about than visitors coming from the sky. And in the end, we all forgot about them, mostly, and stopped looking up and wondering when they'd be back. And the sky remained empty of brightly-colored rocket ships, just as the world remained empty of peace and hope.