The Bobs

Earth, or what remains of Earth is simply fascinating. I have multiple degrees in human studies and relations, but I have never before been able to set foot on their planet. This planet is 6,378 kilometers (3,963 miles) at the equator and 6,356 kilometers (3,950 miles) at the poles if I chose to refer to the measurements humans use. I know everything about this great blue orb but have never had the privilege of settling down upon it. Although this Earth is quite smaller than my planet, it still has plenty of room for thousands of species to arise and prosper. One of those many species is the human race or was the human race as they disappeared many revolutions ago. I planned to go to Earth myself, but my calculations were off and instead of being able to observe human society, they are now all...dead, so that has presented itself to be a bit of a problem. Nevertheless, the world they left behind is intriguing in and of itself and it would be a waste to not explore.

Quiet, everything is quiet. Lush gardens dappled with dewdrops, shining in the sun; suddenly, the slight rustle of leaves can be heard. Leaves green and sturdy, with tinges of yellow at the ends. Then, a low humming sound gets ever louder as it approaches, whatever it is. A pair of powerful wings fly past, swirling the trees in every direction, scattering leaves on the ground. But now, the wings are gone and the frenzy quiets into stillness.

In the distance, one can see colorful blobs carrying a woven basket filled to the brim with glowing light, almost blinding whoever or whatever chooses to look its way. 

All that can be heard is the muffled sound of a waterfall in the distance, the teeming of insects, and the soft footsteps of the bobbing colors on the carpeted floor (I’ve decided to call this species “Bobs”, as I cannot continue to refer to them as “bobbing colors”). It is eerily peaceful, one would expect some violence to be occurring, but all things seem to have a place.  

This is no utopia, it is just a place, a place hundreds of thousands of years into the future. Nothing really knows how long it's been, as this is all they know, so they don’t base their time off of how long it's been since humans have lived. This is a recycled planet. 

But this is not about humans if anything this is about the absence of humans. The Bobs set down the basket of light, to then cup the light in their hands and ceremoniously hold it up to the sky before taking it to their mouths, or what one can assume is their mouth. 

The light seemed to absorb into them, and for a moment, there was a glow over the group, but it faded as quickly as it came. 

Then, a series of clicks could be heard followed with the Bobs picking up the basket once again, as if they understand what that sequence of sounds meant, and carry it in the direction of the waterfall. The colors went down a trodden path, disappearing over the end of the hill into a crowd of even more colors, vibrant and amazing, mixing into a pool of splendor. 

This is the bustling city center, a city without a name, but a city nonetheless. The bright basket can be seen in the middle of the crowd, making its way to a structure on the outskirts of this nameless city. The path is decorated by hollowed-out gourds topped with flowers, teeming with life where other Bobs gather. This must be a home or at least a shelter, but who knows whether the Bobs even care about if something is a “home” or simply a roof over their head. Further down, a stairwell of sorts can be seen, leading into the dark. None of the Bobs seem to recognize its presence and the ones that do seem to be doing so secretly. Going down into the darkness only when they are sure they cannot be seen, which is a feat on a seemingly busy day in who-knows-where-city. 

The bouncing basket of light is intriguing, but the darkness is ever more mysterious, beckoning any wandering traveler to step deeper into the unknown. A series of clicking (I’ve concluded that this must be the language of the Bobs) can be heard as a Bob passes by and down the stairwell covered in a variety of mosses and small flowers poking from underneath the rich soil. I follow the Bob as it ventures deeper into the wondrous abyss; a small light appears, first a speck, then a brilliant glow of amber as it opens up to a cavern. The walls are lined with amber pillars, each with their own collection of insects, forever trapped in a moment. More clicking comes from many directions, it seems to be more lively here; unlike in the bright city above, the Bobs are talking and might even be laughing, if the sound of a forceful stream of air could be considered laughing. The Bob who just arrived is confused by the underbelly of the city. It looks curiously at the relics in the middle of this cavern: crumbling buildings taken over by vegetation. The buildings are hardly recognizable, one would not be able to discern if this was once a bank, an office building, or really anything else other than what it is, a reminder of humans refusing to be completely absent from this world. Looking at my surroundings, I find it hard to believe that on top of this cave is a beautiful, bright landscape hiding its darker and more opposing counterpart, but nevertheless, it becomes more apparent that it is its own kind of society with its own rules. Dilapidated buildings serve as a skyline, and one can never be sure what time of the day it is, creating a world of its own. The Bob looks around, they grow curious about this new land, well, new for some; others look more comfortable amongst the grime. 

 In the corner, there are Bobs tinkering with a machine of some kind, letting their flowers flop over their eyes, to then push it back up again as they hunch over this strange object. Others look at these articles and use them for their perceived purpose (such as a small object with a wheel that can rotate attached to a handle, aluminum by the looks of it, gliding along the ground, creating lines of dirt in neat rows.) From a stray beam of sunlight, the words “KitchenAid” can faintly be seen and though I have dedicated almost half of my life to the study of humans, I can not for the life of me remember what this object would be called, but I digress. 

The Bobs seemed too interested in these objects, they even held them as amazing pieces of art. Some even brought these into their homes, imagine it, dirty styrofoam cups held as prized possessions. Others, however, were more intrigued by images of violence and death from filthy billboards, magazines, and a poster for WWE. (Note: WWE may or may not be an illegal fighting ring, or possibly cult? Will consult colleagues later.)

Those that took to these violent images corrupted the others, spreading their malice not only to the Bobs in the cavern but took their message to the streets above. What is that common human saying? Monkey see monkey do; and though Bobs are the furthest thing from monkeys, life no matter the circumstance will continue to be predictable. Human influences of violence, death, and war fueled the Bobs with a passion previously unseen and caused them to feed off of one another’s desires to conquer those around them. The gourd dwellings became ransacked and even burned, disintegrating the once beautiful flowers adorning them to specks of ash. The newfound jewels of this civilization, plastic cups, tires, and "God" knows what else became more important than their well-established relationships and rituals. Finding human garbage and consumption of said garbage gained popularity as a method of bringing good fortune to one's body, effectively replacing their diet of light. Undoubtedly malnourished and angry with everything around them, I, a stranger became the symbol of “otherness”, something worthy of conquering. Walking down the town square, things were….different. Instead of being met with open arms, curiosity, or just plain indifference, I felt beady eyes slicing into me. I was no longer watching and observing them, they were observing me. The clicking sounds grew more violent, even hissing was customary to my arrival.

Sooner or later, the town elders stepped down from their golden temple and dwelled among the commoners. It seemed that they had not been in the actual city for a very long time and they, too, noticed the hissing and how human rubbish had taken over every home, or dwelling, or however it should be referred to. Despite their efforts, the elders could do very little to help the state of this city, a city that seemed dingy compared to its former glory. 

Over the past few days, the Bobs acted irrationally, greedily, and in a way, I could not explain, but that was because I was thinking about their species, not species that arrived beforehand. Yes, humans. 

The underbelly of the city and the top melded together, became one. Human society has effectively taken over this small city, something that was hard to observe, but as a scientist, I pressed on. Now I do not know if that was wise as I, well I have been running from the creatures who fascinate me, not because of cowardice, but because of their vengeance. 

Quiet everything is quiet, I turn to see the waterfall, flowing as it did when I first arrived, spraying the green and sturdy leaves with tinges of yellow at the ends in a brilliant mist. I have come to understand, though with a heavy heart, that the plagues of human society will never be quite eradicated as long as someone remembers them.