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Eric S. Fomley is a member of the Codex Writers' Group. He writes all varieties of speculative fiction which can be found on his website ericfomley.com. You can experience his spouts of madness by following him on Twitter @PrinceGrimdark.
We leach from them. Not because we are better than them, but because they are better than us.
They arrived on a triangle-shaped ship, claimed they were just passing through, and landed to investigate what it was like to live on this place called Earth. They saw what they wanted to see in only a few hours.
When our leaders asked for pieces of knowledge, the aliens refused. They saw no point in sharing their intellect with such a primitive race.
They were our first contact, the first real chance in thousands of generations to find out what life beyond our solar system was like, and they refused to share. We didn't even get the name of their race.
So we made them share.
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We captured them before they returned to their ship, questioned them, and they remained reserved. We tortured them, broke their bodies, and still got nothing. So we hooked them up to machines and wires.
Now we tear the memories from the Quareth's brains one by one. We take from their hollowing husks for the good of humanity. We leach their knowledge so that, one day, we can be as good as they are, and maybe a little better.
Better than we are now.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, January 17th, 2019
Author Comments
I've always been fascinated with the notion of alien invasions not going the way we imagine in stories and television. Be it disinterested aliens in first contact, finding Earth to be a boring place, or sitting in the sky whilst watching the virus they've given us spread below, much of my fiction explores the possibilities.
- Eric S. Fomley
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