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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
What if global warming was for a reason? Just not a human one... My Uncle's Idea, written at midnight in a half hour.

Submitted: February 07, 2008

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Submitted: February 07, 2008




This is the beginning. It is cold here, cold and desolate. There is no life to be seen, no movement anywhere. All is emptiness. The sky opens up, and three shapes plunge onto the ground. They seed the planet, dropping life from the gaping maws in their bellies. The life splashes down, soon beginning what will be its labor for millennia to come; to terraform (though that is not what the creators of life call it) this empty rock into a place of life. The work continues; life goes on.

This is the past. The life has done its job well so far, though hundreds upon thousands of years still remain before the final goal is reached. Already the life has begun to change into a more suitable form. The planet is no longer dead, but it has yet to come to life. The life goes on

This is the past, now closer. The planet is now alive, but it has yet to awaken. The life is teeming, and great forms plod across wide valleys. The life does not even remember its original goal, but it is there, locked in genetics. Each step that is taken, every move that is made, has a purpose. And the life goes on.

This is the past, closer still. The planet has awakened, and the life begins to search for its meaning. Societies rise and societies fall, each with their own idea about the reason behind the existence of the life. Time drips away, and the life, no longer realizing that it is even doing it, alters the planet. Life goes on.

This is the past, not far back. The life has developed too far. It begins to destroy itself. The slaughter is horrible, but even still, the destruction of the planet shapes it, moving towards a specific goal. The life goes on.

This is now. The life has finished its destruction, for now. Suddenly, an objection is raised. The planet is too cold. Gases, natural by-products are released. Soon, a greenhouse effect is taking place. The planet heats; life goes on.

This is the near future. The life, realizing what it is doing, begins to attempt to counteract the warming. It is too late; the planet continues its inexorable march towards its goal. But, if only for a short time, life goes on.

This is the future. The life is dead, the planet empty. Seeing this, the shapes return, this time to stay. The shapes land and release their passengers. They will build their homes here, recreate their civilization. They move around, exploring the planet. A strange metal sign is found, a sign that reads 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. It is soon tossed aside, forgotten in the dust. Life goes on.

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