Violation

“You have seven days.”

Scratched onto a stone cube, seven of them dropped off on every continent (it took a while for people to find the one in Antarctica).

“You have seven days.”

Naturally, humans immediately took to fear. The messages were written in human language, but the material of the stone was alien.

“It’s clearly a threat!” yelled a scientist, one of the best in the world. More specifically, she was good with astrophysics, not stone cubes.

“Who knows? Could it be a hoax?” asked a military man, who had never once dealt with curiosity in his life. 

This was one of dozens of professional meetings happening worldwide, and there were millions of amateur comparisons. There was really nothing else to talk about now that people knew there were aliens. Some people were even crazy enough to skip work. Most, but not all, of these discussions came to the same conclusion, something along the lines of:

“Who cares if it could be a hoax? I don’t want to die!”

And so the humans, nearly eight billion in number, subtracting a fraction for the infants, entered a frenzy. What did they do, exactly? On the first day, the rich searched for ways to flee into space, and the rest searched for the safest place on Earth. It was only when they thought, even for a second, that they realized that it might not matter where they go. One woman, Alessia, became famous for her videos explaining the logic. By her conclusions, people should give up. And so, many adopted the philosophy of nihilism. 

On the second day, people realized that they had much more time. They were still sleeping and waking up to an intact world. They got hungry, they ate. Even the snow that blocked their driveways was still there, and the aliens weren’t coming around quite yet, so it was still annoying. As a result, most abandoned nihilism. It turned out they weren’t devoted enough. 

“Wait, seven days from which timezone?”

This question was asked by a hard-working mathematician, who would go down in the history books for this simple question instead of any of his official work. Well, it would have, but people weren’t really writing history books anymore. Not when they were all staring at the sky like it was a childhood bully. 

“We have heard your questions regarding the exact time,” read an explanation from the CWG, or the Coalition of World Governments. “And we have two responses. First, seeing as the stones hit Earth at the same time at 6:43 UCT. Therefore, we expect it to be exactly seven days from then, at 6:43 UCT this sunday. Secondly, we have to ask you all in return: does it matter? Seriously, god.”

This statement from the CWG caused an immediate revolt and disbanding, leaving the storied history of the organization at one day old. Truly, if anyone was still writing, it could have filled a whole page. But no one did, and instead many took to reading, or watching movies and shows. Such behavior was surprising to those who cared about surviving, or those who at least had the decency to be constantly frightened. They often asked these people, who appeared just to want to be entertained, what they were thinking.

“What else can we do?” 

They usually said something like that, and then patted a spot next to them on their couch or bed or cold hard ground on which they could stare at the stars. Such a simple argument convinced many. What else could they do, indeed.

On the third day—oh, where are my manners? There was a woman, that same woman as from before! The scientist! What was her name? I suppose I forgot to say, but just so you know, it was Vivian. She didn’t lay down for all this time, no no no. Vivian, or Viv as her friends often called her, was busy staring off into space until her eyes hurt from lack of blinking. 

“I can blink when I’m dead,” she repeated to herself. She said it without any prompting, so the people around her thought it was quite strange, but Viv didn’t really care, and neither did they, because they were too worried about aliens. 

Now Viv—Vivian the astrophysicist—was having quite a difficult time seeing all the space she wanted to see. It was true that the universe was mostly vacuum, and so it might seem trivial to find something non-vacuum. The issue was—well, here’s what Viv had to say.

“Too much junk!” she screamed. “I can’t detect much of anything with all these broken satellites!”

Her coworkers couldn’t help her, because they didn’t put the junk up in space, and they definitely didn’t know more than she did. Even with the world about to end, no one wanted to argue with Viv. 

Now that we know what Viv was doing, we can move on to the third day. The destruction of monuments, the rising of tides, the final sprint towards a hedonistic death—are all things one might expect to happen, but did not. Instead, many people became distinctly religious, which was like the initial phase of nihilism but slightly more popular. It stemmed primarily from what was written, for humans apparently considered seven a magical number in any context. Still, for however many began devoutly worshiping something, others fell into a deep depression. It was no longer fear that determined their days, but the meaningless of living at all. Some ceased eating, others avoided sleep, and many cried and cried until their tears stained the floors.

Interestingly, or however interesting something can be when compared to everything else, there were some people who decided that now was the time to make money. They sold all sorts of things: guns, drugs, even basic internet plans to people desperate for an escape. At first, they made a killing. But then, there was a revelation.

“Why don’t I just take it?”

So theft became common, and the entrepreneurs did die quite often. High risk, high reward.

On the fourth day, not much happened. Yes, many people died, and some even tunneled underground to start a new society, but nothing that out of the ordinary. It was, however, the day the first book on the stones was released. The author, H. Scott Willabee, quickly surpassed the bible in total readers. What he revealed in his book, titled ‘Feeling Stoned? A Guide to the End’, was that accepting death was a crucial part of life, and at that point, a lot of people stopped reading.

On the fifth—oh, look at me go again! There was something else on the fourth day. A movement, led by that one Alessia from before, arose out of her fanbase. Their premise was simple:

“The aliens want our world leaders! They’re to blame!” 

And so her and her Alessialites marched and recorded their marches and sent their recordings everywhere they could, because nothing was a potent strategy for change than marching. 

“We only have three days left! When they arrive, give yourselves up!”

On her website, Alessia revealed her logic: ‘Why would the aliens have told us ahead of time they were going to destroy us anyway? There must be a solution!’ 

Many Alessialites were tear gassed.

On the fifth day, the horror. Who would have guessed people were so prone to arson. They say that you see someone’s soul when they set a building aflame, and the souls of the populace were crazed. What caused it, who can say. A collective feverish desire to control. As one blogger put it:

“We’ll destroy Earth first!!!!”

But as with all things, people gave up. They couldn’t figure out how to destroy some buildings, and they didn’t want to sail or fly to some island just to light it up in a grand gesture of Promethean insanity. By the end of the day, most people just wanted to sleep, to eat, to do what they did any normal day. Except they knew that when they awoke, it would be…

The sixth day. For some, this was the reckoning. The rich, oddly quiet this whole time, revealed to the world that they had been collecting their resources for one last effort to flee the planet. It was true, they said, that aliens might hunt them down anyway. But they weren’t going to stay on Earth.

“Thank you all for your moneys,” said the rich, in one way or another. They launched into the skies in their ships, smiling and shaking, and were soon out of sight. For most, that is. Not Vivian the astrophysicist, who was worried about one thing in particular. 

“They’re going to create even more junk!” she screamed to an empty room. Her coworkers were off on their own, tending to their lives. Caring for their families, maybe. She didn’t know. “Oh, well that’s not good,” she mumbled.

In the distance, on the border of where space meets Earth, Vivian spotted a burst of fire and colors. Purple, red, orange, red, yellow, orange. The colors began to repeat, which made the purple all the more strange. They were exploding, the space vessels. Too hastily made. 

“Idiots,” Vivian said to herself. She may have been a keen observer of all things space, but she was not polite.

The not-so-rich mounted a last-ditch attempt to flee in their own way. Taking inspiration from an ancient tale, they crowded onto the island of Manhattan and, wearing heavy-duty fully covered suits, jumped at the same time.

“It’s sinking! One, two, three!” And they all hopped again. Smiles on their faces, hope in their hearts. “One, two, three!” 

It wasn’t until an hour later that they learned they could not, in fact, create their own Atlantis. 

On the seventh day, no one rested. Well, there was one man named Sangwoo who actually did sleep. In fact, in a bizarre turn of events, Sangwoo entered a state similar to what grizzly bears do in winter. If everyone hadn’t been so busy, they surely would have named such a phenomenon. Maybe they would have called it human hibernation. 

Other than that, no one rested. They couldn’t, really. They stared up at the sky, whether it be blue or grey, dark or bright, hot or cold. They awaited the arrival of their alien overlords.

“Everyone, gather your most valuable items!” screamed the Galiolites, who had succeeded the Alessialites when Alessia decided being tear-gassed wasn’t worth it. “The aliens want what we have to offer. Paintings, technology, anything worth having! Be prepared!”

Considering all that there was to consider, which was surprisingly little, most people did exactly as the Galiolites declared. There were those who denied anything was happening at all, but even those people were persuaded to give up their possessions. Generally, they were persuaded by the use of force, which was a much more common tactic on the seventh day.

The people of Earth witnessed the sky turn purple, and then green, and then a dark shade of blue. They all waited, waited, waited. 

“Attention, everyone,” said Vivian through the livestream by the Galiolites. “I am here to inform you that the aliens are arriving, and they have many ships. Watch out for their landing areas.”

The reaction of the populace was muted, if not downright stoic. What fright they had left had been drained from a week of sleep deprivation and partial arson. Now they could hardly think or talk. All they had left was to stare at the sky.

Near the end of the seventh day, right around 6:34 UTC, just as predicted, the aliens landed in their tetrahedron spaceships. Lights blared from the ships, and within minutes, the aliens disembarked. Their appearance shocked the humans, many of whom tucked away their drawings. Most had put their money on blocky creatures. Instead, they saw aliens that appeared quite similar to a common crab, albeit a hundred times the size.

“Humans!” screeched the crab aliens. The humans bowed their heads, or fell fully onto the ground, and listened. “You have been found to have multiple parking violations on multiple planets in this solar system. Your failure to appear in court has warranted us coming down here in person. Bring us your representative, or if you’d prefer, we can house all of you.”

The humans stared first at the crab creatures, and then at each other.

“How many do you have?” asked the aliens. “Half a trillion?”

The humans explained, and the aliens laughed. 

“Eight billion? That’s nothing. Get in.”

And so the humans got into the alien vehicles, and were briskly flown off to galactic court, where they now sit, in a few thousand of millions of rows. 

***

“Thank you for your testimony, Mr. Alethia. You may be seated.”

“My pleasure, your honor. And may I say, it was quite fun observing the humans this past week.”

“Noted, Mr. Alethia.”

Alethia scuttled to his seat, and a suspender-wearing crab approached the front.

“Your honor, it is clear from Mr. Alethia’s testimony, which we can have no doubt is true, that the humans did not make any effort to rectify their parking tickets. They even sent an unmanned probe in the carpool lane of their solar system! And to top it all off, they resisted appearing in court. I recommend the full fine, your honor.”

“You may be seated,” replied the judge, who looked closer to a lobster than a crab. “I have reached a verdict. May I see the one known as Viv? Vivian, to her non friends?”

A prolonged sound of shoes hitting wood echoed in the hall as Vivian walked toward the front. At least ten minutes passed until she was close enough for the judge to see. “Yes, your honor?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“I have chosen you as Earth’s representative. It is your duty to ensure they pay their collective fine.”

“Fine, your honor?”

“Yes,” answered the judge crab. “Your fine, for both parking violations and negligence, along with littering of your own atmosphere, is…”

Vivian bit her tongue. Humanity held their breath.

“One thousand kilograms of algae!”