On May seventh, the Akairon came, and we finally knew we weren't alone in this universe.
|On May seventh, two thousand and forty-three, the Akairon came.
That day was one to be remembered for all of Earth’s time, where humanity finally realised that without a doubt, they were not alone in the universe.
The Akairon were more intelligent that we had expected, decades, even centuries more advanced, already knowing ways to communicate with our race, staring with disdain at our fossil fuels, the poverty we had left, our cars, our land, and, for reasons we could not understand - pity, some said, kindness, maybe arrogance - they called others to them, and began to change it. In twenty forty-five, oil power had somehow become sun power, produced in abundance and with technology that we could not compete with. By twenty forty seven, third-world countries suddenly became as advanced as we were, and we all developed after that, no country jumping ahead (because no one knew how to jump ahead). By twenty-fifty, the ice had refrozen, sea levels no longer rose, the temperature fell the two degrees we had made it heat up. Everyone had a home, everyone could sleep in a bed, eat three meals a day, and for those years, the Akairon were our saviors.
Humanity was happy.
There were those that began to worship the Akairon, naive men and women, hoping in vain to gain their favour and rise above the rest of us. Others began to be angry, feeling our world’s independence had been lost by relying so heavily on an unknown race that could, at any second, destroy us, or leave us completely helpless. Some, unsurprisingly, simply hated the idea of an alien race, and wanted them gone, but stayed silent in fear of their own destruction.
But overall, humanity appreciated the Akairon and what they had done for us. We asked for them to help us further, and they did so, showing us how to develop our technology, our transport, our governments in ways we could never have dreamed up alone. We had changed the laws of physics, some abolished, but with new ones created in their place. We learned from them, then no longer needed them, because we had learned all we needed, and wanted to develop ourselves, see the boundaries we could cross without assistance. With some heavy hearts, we told them, they understood, but asked to stay just some time longer, to see how we continued to grow, to understand us, and we agreed. If this was all they wanted in return, who were we to deny them after everything?
In two thousand and sixty nine, we had one last request. After months of debate, we asked the Akairon for help in one last task, assistance in something humanity had worked on for a century, if not more, contemplated for even longer. We asked for them to help us journey the stars, travel space, beyond our solar system.
They stared at us, looking at us as if we were idiots, and we wondered if this was something their technology had mistranslated, whether they had understood. Then they laughed, and we watched on television screens across the globe with bated breath as a few hopeful glances were exchanged by our leaders.