Welcome to Earth…

…The planet aliens mock as the “Creator’s Paradox” and the home of a mysterious race: strangely known as humanity - the most inhumane species in the universe. Human Beings are, without a doubt, the most overly loaded and unnecessary forms of life God ever had the urge to produce; equipped with arms and legs, 5 major senses, fingers and toes, and sexual organs. But that’s not all…

Humans were also blessed with a heart, and like most hearts, the organ’s primary function is the run-of-the-mill, bog-standard blood circulation. Unlike most hearts, however, the Human heart can be used in close co-ordination with the Human brain (an aspect of the human anatomy described in further detail further down the page). Thus, the heart allows for Human instinct. What is interesting about Human instinct, as opposed to any other, is its range, and what this means is simple.

Humans have the instincts of almost every other animal on the planet programmed –if you will- into their hearts, yet the vastness of the human instinct has led to diminishing qualities of each separate aspect of its origin. To give a simple example: a cat’s main instinct is to land on its feet - throw a human off of a cliff and you could wager that the human instinct will be crying out for its host to do the same (whether it convinces the human to listen is another matter). The only difference is that when the cat lands, the chances are, it will not lose the ability to walk… or more to the point - the ability to live.

However, the most resourceful, confusing and consequently dangerous treasure a human can truly call his or her natural gift, is the brain. Of course, such as with the heart, most other living beings have a brain, but as if the human anatomy was not dense enough (in both senses of the word), Human beings have the most tightly packed and inconvenient brain an organism could ever be so unfortunate to have locked into their skulls. This… “Magnificent” brain boasts not necessarily the greatest intelligence, but an intelligence that seems to come out on top when amongst more intelligent intelligences. Nobody is quite sure why, but experts assume it has something to do with electrical bypasses and inter-junctions, which create random and frequently unique brainwave patterns. In other words, Humans are lucky... very, very lucky. When forced into tense situations – situations that require us to think faster than what is humanly possibly - the electrical message in the brain which usually is moments away from reaching a logical conclusion, bypasses, takes an inter-junction and where it goes after that is a complete mystery.

Why then, despite our incomparable intelligence, do we still fail to realise that playing God is like playing with a Rubik’s cube? We know that the chances of us succeeding are so dismal that we may as well deem it as a complete impossibility, yet we continue to try anyway.

I’m taking you to 2067. I have chosen 2067 because it is quite a fair distance into the future and people can spend the next 40 years at least wondering whether maybe, just maybe, we might finally invent a flying car… or an emotional robot… heck I’m guessing you’ll even settle for a watch that doubles as a mobile phone. Well, I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but if you hadn’t already realised, Humanity’s creativity has effectually reached a standstill. Ok, we may be getting more television channels and faster Internet connections, but adding onto what we already have can hardly be considered a great technological advancement. The truth is, after years of prodding and poking, The Earth has given up the will to live and Humanity, now realising how barbaric we have been, is trying to win back some self dignity (brownie points if you will) by trying to fix the most valuable thing we have ever managed to break, our home.

And so we have fiddled with that cursed Rubik’s cube for so long that after one final look at the colourful wreckage, we have decided to pack up our things and search for something new, something more challenging… lets face it, destroying the planet is like, so last week. Now, after leaving the rubble of Earth behind, we are attempting to leave the universe. And when we do: "Bye-bye, all of God’s creations", "Hello God", "Ouch that hurt!" and "Please stop punching me!"…

SHORT #1

Good Evening and welcome to channel 777. I’m Trey O’Sullivan, and you are LIVE on Eye Witness Muse! Tragedy on Earth, as the ENTIRE Human Race prepares for a worldwide Exodus. It was confirmed minutes ago that the Ozone Layer will soon be unable to protect us from harmful UV rays, and Global Warming is an imminent threat. As you can see behind me, confused and anxious citizens are frantically packing their belongings as they prepare for the movement. Some, however, seem to fail to understand the nature of the move – packing their cars and caravans as if preparing for the yearly summer holiday! The situation, however misunderstood by members of the general public, is dire. In just 24 hours, all those able to afford tickets will board the air-vessel appropriately named The Ark and make for space. What is more disturbing, yet unavoidable, it the Ark’s destination remains unknown. The government assures us this vessel is fully equipped and able to act as…

‘Ha! ‘ave you ‘eard this Sarah? "Those who can afford tickets"! What good’s money where they’re goin’?’

Sarah wasn’t in a talkative mood, and anyway, she was far too busy with her husband’s ironing to be watching the news. Her husband, Chris, was sat in the living room, with his legs crossed and resting on a wooden coffee table, watching what could no better be described than the most life-changing news broadcast in the history of mankind. He had a beer in one hand and the remote in the other.

‘Damn world’s falling ‘part ant blasted government still tryin’ t’rob this bloody country f’all it’s worth! Been that way e’er since I were a lad, blasted Blairs. It’s a damn conspiracy, am tellin’ ya, a bloody conspiracy! Whole family will’a been in parliament by the time…’

Chris’s voice faded into a distant groan as Sarah’s headache got the better of her - and wanting a break from her ironing (and her husband’s voice) she decided to pop outside to fill the recycle bins whilst Chris was distracted.

It was a terrible day. Sarah’s, once beautiful, garden had been left in ruin due to the recent fluctuations in heat and frequent spells of acid rain. The acid rain had only taken a turn for the worst a night ago, where it became so acidic it could dissolve your skin in a matter of seconds if you were exposed to it. It was, then, no surprise that Sarah’s beautiful (a distinct matter of opinion) garden gnomes (although they had been slowly eroding for the past forty years) had been reduced to fizzling lumps of stone in under two hours. Sarah lived on a small estate, so the other houses were close together and she could see her neighbours’ gardens quite easily from her kitchen window – they weren’t however, what Chris would call a “prop’r” garden. Their garden was the only one in not just their estate but the entire neighbourhood to have previously contained flowers – previously, because their beautiful flowers, tragically, weren’t able to survive in the recent and dangerous weather. The other gardens were all, basically, garages… high-tech and expensive garages. People of this era were largely obsessed with their cars. The fully equipped garages were attached directly onto the sides of the houses and were big and mechanical, and according to Chris – “an eyesore!”

Sarah looked up. The air congestion was unusually high today. She shook her head and thought of the fuel pollution those cars were pumping willy-nilly into the air. Goes to wonder why the whole world’s gone to pot with those wretched things flying about everywhere! she thought.

The bin collectors were quite the dither when it came to collecting the Firth’s rubbish and recycle bins. They were the only bins in the neighbourhood that weren’t made of steel, and that didn’t fire into the air like cannons whenever the BCVs (Bin Collection Vehicles) soared overhead - The Firth’s tried not to use any of the country’s modern technology (whenever it was possible) - so the bin collectors had to use ropes (mechanical ropes of course) that quavered down from their large wagon and winched the bins up and inside. Sarah highly disapproved of this use of technology, but allowed it as it was the only way her recycling could be dealt with.

Sarah struggled outside with the bin-liners, and tottered to and fro as she made her way to the bins. It had taken her a good ten minutes to traverse her vast, ten-yard long garden, when she tripped and fell… into a puddle.

‘Well a’ll be damned if their gonna dip their filthy claws into MY pension!’ came another random rant from Chris, inside the house. The television was on so loud that he couldn’t hear the wailing of his poor wife in the back garden.

Chris didn’t embark on the Ark, and neither did Sarah. Chris had made the decision after deciding to find out what was taking his wife so long in the back garden, and Sarah hadn’t made the decision at all. She had died.

Even if Chris had decided to leave his home and his wife behind, he wouldn’t have been able to, he couldn’t afford it. In answer to Chris’s question, nothing. The reason the tickets were so expensive was because the Ark could only support a certain amount of people, and the E.U.G. (Earth’s United Government – Created after the travesty of WW3. The harmful gases and superfluous heat generated from the War vastly accelerated the World Disaster threat, therefore finally the many governments that ruled separate zones of the planet, banded together to ensure it never happened… they failed.) thought it wise for only the world’s best and brightest to embark on the journey.

Naturally, people had began to suspect as such, and many were trying to stowaway. Others were buying tickets on the black-market, and others were trying bribes. Those who tried to stowaway were shot, those who bought tickets on the black-market were shot, and those who tried bribes were ridiculed… and then shot.

Chris had to bury his wife on his own. The rest of the world was either queuing for salvation upon the mighty Ark, or protesting and getting shot in front of it. Unfortunately, for some, the bible has only room for one Ark – and the original restored life for Earth, not simply for humanity.

The vast and inferior human instinct had failed Sarah. At some point during the impact with the small pool of water, Sarah's heart had decided that the best choice of instinct for this particular situation was that derived from a number of different varieties of fish when faced with a similar situation - flailing. Unfortunately, it is widely known that flailing rarely ever saved anything's life... not even fish.

Just before Sarah passed away, a shadow loomed over her. It was a man, a hooded man - shrouded in shadows. He seemed to reach out and take something from her. She couldn't make out his face in this state - she was seconds away from death and what's more, she'd left her bloody glasses in the kitchen.