They came from the sea, leaving evidence of their arrival in the sand. Millions, perhaps even billions of them in an organized display of power and existence across the beaches of the world. At first no one truly understood why they chose to reveal themselves to the human world, their existence having been so well hidden in the depths of the oceans. But nevertheless, they came, dragging their scaly tails, and smiling through their reptilian-like mouths. Their grasp of our languages was astounding, further evidence they had been planning their relocation for quite some time. We had no real idea what their agenda was, but in time it all became very clear.
Governments gathered to discuss the event—each of them worried about what a collective show of force would do to their popularity in the polls. So far the veritable army hadn’t displayed any aggression, only asking for equal rights as a sentient race on the planet from the shanty towns that had been hastily built to house them. Pro-inclusion groups sprung up like weeds, picketing the steps of all the major governments, demanding those rights be granted. How could they have known? How could any of us have known?
New laws and charters were drawn up, public opinion amounting to more than common sense. They were not deemed a threat by the scientists and consultants at the UN, so it only seemed fair as the reams of information flowed freely between us and them. They helped us to understand the sea better than ever before. But with it came a hefty price. Only a few years after they walked out of the water, they’d found a way to turn the tables, enslaving us. Now we serve them. And when our bodies cannot work any longer, we become dinner.
Copyright © 2014 Julianne Snow