Dead End.

Dr. Kludze raises his seven-year old grandson onto his laps, just as his grandfather had done when he was a child. His grandfather had told him stories of the Ewe; stories wreathed in the traditions and the pride of his people. How he wished for a world where he could sit lazily under the shade of an Oak tree and continue tradition, telling his grandchildren those same stories about their rich heritage but alas, there was no Oak tree and the history lesson he was about to give was a far more recent one.

You know, Senyo. Before the entire planet became a barren wasteland, it used to be beautiful. 

He struggles to recollect the images from his past.

Oceans stretched far beyond what the human eye could see. There were forests that went on for days and the Earth was filled with all manner of animals. Before I came here, I lived in a country that wasn’t very developed but it’s people had spirit and it was a tough place to grow up. I miss that toughness now and how I wish that country still existed and that you could see it, my boy.

We, humans, revelling in our intelligence and its fruits, we had completely conquered our planet and we went looking to the vastness of space for our next challenge. How naive we were.

I still remember the day we were forced to pay for our boldness. Yes, as if it was yesterday. 

Tears fill the eyes of the seventy-something year old man.

It started with the fiery space rocks. Rocks the size of cities rained down from the skies and the technology we had spent millennia developing; the technology that our species worshipped, was powerless in the face of the fiery torrent. The destruction that was left in its wake is indescribable and by the time it was over the planet was reduced to barely a tenth of it’s population.

When the actual invasion started we had not even the slightest means of holding them off, let alone putting up a fight.

The Professor loses the little control he has over his emotions and bursts into tears. And with that the seven-year old boy speaks for the first time.

“That was a very touching story, human,” the boy says, taking off the metallic gloves he’s wearing to reveal slime soaked tentacles that slowly coil themselves around the crying old man’s throat.

A loud snap replaces the sounds of choking and muffled sobs.