December 6, 2111
Jeremiah
The last human survivor of an unfortunate event had returned to a city nicknamed the Treasured City after more than a month away; his pocket now full with the item he sought. This man, the last survivor, was named Jeremiah. A man of the cloth, Jeremiah was well-studied in the subject of religion, having two specializations in all.
Now within the walls of his residence, Jeremiah rested his bottom against the loose, soft sand of his sand-chair on his pink patterned, porch floor; his gaze was fixed over the legendary gate of the legendary Treasured City not too far in the distance. What he saw wasn't quite the spectacle of most structures on the planet. Instead, he saw a haunted forest filled with creatures of a nightmare not too far off from those gates; always there, always a threat to this city's walls. Black smog could be seen emitting from below the low hanging trees and thick brush. In-between the forest line and gate was a massive patch of barren and coarse sand. One of the two suns was high in the sky, casting low shadows.
He had enough of that. He stood up and rested his arms onto the railing enclosing his porch. Far down below, his eyes were pulled like a magnet to the waterpark close to the city's edge. Children of the corelinn species played with joyous wonder and excitement. Some of the guardians of these children watched from a distance, while others played with their kids. It was an innocent and pure sight if ever there was one. They were all the children of God.
This had become a calling of sorts for Jeremiah - guiding and observing. Over his many years, life seemed to grow more beautiful every day. It was a gift, and he loved to watch the beauty of life pass through time. Guiding and observing, after all, felt like what he was created to do - the purpose he had while he lived.
At first, when he was still young, observing was all he thought he was supposed to do. Be a watchful eye. Never did he expect to hear the word of God. Never did he expect to be called to teach. At that early age, he thought he was unworthy to speak, too young to be taken seriously. God assured him then it wouldn't be a hindrance and not to be intimidated by others.
That day he was made a fortified city, an iron pillar and bronze wall to stand against a whole land.
That was so long ago, back on Earth. That day and age, his mission was more testing than he ever imagined. He was tasked with reforming the ways of sinners. Standing among many other priests, he was the only one preaching darkness and destruction. And he did it faithfully and loyally for God, all to a land that had turned away from God like an unfaithful wife. If they didn't give up their sinful ways, they would face death, capture, or worse.
A hard lesson was learned early on. Jeremiah found out through experience that people were unable to change their nature, just as a leopard cannot change its spots. People then were so consumed with their desires over their intellect, and for that reason they couldn't change their evil ways until they experienced a change of heart. This change couldn't happen on its own. It happened only with the influence of God. Reform can occur only through cooperation with God, and God can act on human hearts only when they recognize their need for it. But he always had hope.
Jeremiah heard the soft knocks at his door. His curious mind forced his body over to see the person who awaited him. He opened the door and recognized the lady at first glance: Witnamerrys Kekay'Hegar - the prime keeper of this great city.
"I greet you, Prime Keeper Witnamerrys," said Jeremiah.
"No need for the formalities, dear friend. You know you can just call me Witna."
He gestured her inside. The living quarters was the room adjacent to his porch. The room was filled with ankle-high water. Waves, shallow and soft, swooshed to a slow tempo against the walls. It was accompanied by the noise of a thin waterfall flowing from the ceiling. The setting was tranquil, and to the corelinn species, a room such as this was standard. They call this spiritual room a majaray. Witnamerrys sat down in the water, with the waterfall flowing over her shoulders. She looked almost in mediation and relaxed beyond comfort. Alternatively, Jeremiah decided to take a seat above the water line.
"My council informed me you had arrived back into our city," she said. Her oval teal eyes greeted him gently, and her skin was the color of God's blue ocean.
He gave her a nod and smile. "A long but fruitful journey."
She continued. "Anighta has made a prediction in your absence. We are to be visited by aliens who will save our world."
"I've not lost hope in our own citizens."
"That may be, but we simply aren't strong enough to do what is necessary to survive the threat." She gave pause. "It's been more than twenty years since the last otherworldly visitors arrived. Of course that was a complete disaster. No one knows better than you."
Jeremiah remembered his traveling companions like it was only yesterday. "They didn't last the week. We should've listened to your warning."
"I'm glad you lived through it. You're kind and compassionate and would've been a great corelinn had you not be born a human."
Jeremiah gave a humble nod.
She continued. "The question remains, when will more come? Anighta assures me it is soon."
Without the luxury of slip space technology themselves, the species of corelinns remained at the mercy of not knowing what was going on beyond the ecosystems of their own planet. Such technology for them was most likely decades away, and most of the fault could be placed on their ingressiveness. In the mind of Jeremiah, this was a gift rarely seen in the galaxy. However, other political minds of their time call this quality a curse. Their species is the type to show generosity and selflessness instead of being adversarial. Often, they can be seen giving and helping as opposed to falling into selfish desires. Thus, war has mostly remained a faraway concept to them. Rare is it that the corelinns engage in such turmoil and conflict.
While the upsides of a world in peace may be apparent, the downsides are less considered. War accelerates the rate of technological achievement, and without it, development seems to drag on slowly, like a wounded, slimy snail.
"Anighta is more often correct than wrong," Jeremiah reassured. He trusted her opinion. Her seeing ability is quite rare, and an asset to have.
A sonic boom whipped them out of their conversation, and they shot up and ran to the edge of the porch to see what the source was, kicking water up everywhere. They saw a light in the sky, burning with flames and increasing in size. It was falling!
"Is it a meteor?" Witnamerrys wondered.
The flames intensified, and Jeremiah began to say a prayer as he realized the object was falling beyond the city's walls. He knew exactly what it was and what species that escape pod belonged to. His eyes stayed glued to the falling object as it neared the sand beyond the gates.
"This isn't good! Noise attracts the nightmare from the forest!" Witnamerrys's eyes darted to Jeremiah.
The object came shrieking towards the surface, but there was not a collision. At least not when there should've been. Then hissing overtook the shrieking. The object made contact with the surface, only with a much softer sound than expected. It had landed.
"Aliens," Jeremiah whispered.