Junil

Harbu stood amidst a cloud of blue spores as they gently swept across the landscape. She reached toward the sky and closed her transparent eyelids. The spores attached to her fragile body, and her skin softened as it expanded and retracted. She was nourishing her body with Moonites that every living creature on Junil consumed. In return, creatures molted their skin and left them on the ground. That allowed the fungus to grow large enough to penetrate the rocky surface. The fungus drew energy from the only source of nutritious light, reflected from Junil's moon.

Junil was locked in orbit with a gas giant, which blocked its life giving light. Their moon orbited far enough away to reflect on the surface, sustaining Junilian creatures for millennia. They revered this phenomenon and treated the resulting fungus as they do their own children. They treated all life this way. There were no predators or prey, and the death of any creature was considered a tragedy.

Harbu knelt to the ground as her outer skin slowly shed from her body and came to rest beneath her. The spores embedded in her molted skin sunk below the layers and spread out beneath it. She was careful to step over them as she left her molting location. Her gaze drew upward. She started to hear a faint ringing noise coming from the sky. This sound was familiar. In the past, a chunk of metal from an asteroid whizzed past her village. She knew it was coming from the galaxy. It grew louder and louder until suddenly, a metal box crashed to the ground beside her molted skin.

After gathering herself, she stared at the box in wonder. She'd never seen anything shaped with straight edges and corners. Sand was brushed away from the sides and she looked deeply at its features. She noticed a silver metal handle on top, round rivets, and weld spots around its edges. The only shiny part was the handle. She touched it and discovered that it moved from one side to the other. She started flipping it back and forth and then nestled it in the palm of her hand. It felt cold and firm. She tested its strength by gently pulling upwards and realized the whole box would move. It easily lifted, and she seated it in her arms. She had never held such an object. This had to be important for her people to study.

After investigating the area and allowing her skin to harden, she made her way back toward the village. She heard strange, foreign noises emanating from her new prize. The sound of metal clinking and clanging was startling to a species that rarely heard any noise at all. This caused her to move faster. As she gained speed, the noises grew louder. She started experiencing pain in her sonar receptors, but finally made it to the tide pools. She was welcomed by a sea of people awaiting her return. Junilians were attuned to each other and noticed the missing presence when one went to feed and molt. They always celebrated their arrival. This time it was different. There was a new presence.

Alien debris landed on the surface of Junil in the past. They were usually bits of metal or rock that were drawn in by the gas giant. The people cared for these objects and kept them on display around their village. Sometimes an object would be given to an individual if they were experiencing loneliness or sadness. The items were used as tools to increase happiness and comfort. This metal box was special, though. For them, it was similar to a gift from a parent. They were deeply involved in its presence.

Upon inspection, they noticed a latch on the side of the box. They'd never seen such a strange contraption, as most of the items they produce are made from rock, or a mixture of clay and rock. Harbu touched the latch and felt a slight movement beneath her finger. She grabbed the edge of the bar and wiggled it. After spending a good amount of time fiddling and not making progress, she assumed it was some sort of decoration and was not functional. She expected it to work like the handle on top, but it didn't.

Harbu had a deep connection with the box. She looked at it with loving eyes and protected it from those who got too rough. She feared it might fall and break. Moving it to a safer location was her priority so she decided to display it in the center of the village. There, she could watch it closely and trust that the eyes of many would protect it. She gently set it in the place it would sit for many revolutions. The place it would see death caused by old age, ritual celebrations, and annual hatchings.

Harbu spent most of her time near the box. When she needed to molt, she would go to the nearest fungus patch so she could return as quickly as possible. It became routine to enter hibernation next to the box. She would rest in the closest tide pools so she could attentively watch it. She'd regularly invite others to view new discoveries she made with its appearance. It became a fixture in their minds and physical presence. They became accustomed to it, which inspired peace and created balance.

After several revolutions around their star, she noticed the latch area started to change color. Instead of steel gray, it was turning to the color of clay. A brownish-red that was familiar to Junilians. It quickly became the biggest topic of the village. People began contemplating its purpose, once again. They wondered if it was a gift from their moon or the gas giant. Some believed it was sent by other worldly creatures as a token of friendship. Some believed it was on Junil the entire time and was destined to become part of their presence no matter how it was discovered. In any case, Harbu already knew what she was going to do with it. She had a plan.

With one hand pointed toward the fungus patches and the other holding the box, she gathered the people and began walking to the place she first discovered it. The plan was to set it in the same spot it landed so it could melt away into the ground. She believed it was a gift from their ancestors and would transform into clay to help the fungus root in her molt area. They weaved through giant boulders along narrow pathways until they reached a small ledge where the box crashed to the ground.

The crowd gathered and settled in around her. She reached to set the box down and stumbled which caused the latch to open, and its contents spilled out. A handwritten letter fell to the ground along with a tuft of hair, a book, and a golden, heart-shaped locket which was cracked open. Inside the locket was a picture of an earth woman and an earth child. Stunned, the crowd looked on as Harbu picked up the locket. She stared at the pictures for a while, trying to figure out the meaning. Like de ja vu, she connected with the woman's eyes and recognized herself. It was an image she had seen many times in the reflection of the tide pools. She believed these were their ancestors and wanted to share this exciting discovery, so she gave the locket to the closest person and they passed it around.

She reached down and picked up the letter, but noticed her skin started to soften. This confused her because she wasn't feeding and there were no spores on her body. Her skin slowly began to shed, so she closed her eyelids to avoid damaging her eyes. As the skin rolled down her body, the person, to which she gave the locket, began molting. Then everybody who touched the locket. Soon the entire crowd was molting and the person with the locket dropped it to the ground.

Harbu started to molt for a second time, which had never happened in the past. Junilians only molt once per feeding. She trembled as her skin fell past her exposed organs. Her hand reached to the sky, wrenched with pain, and her body collapsed to the ground. She looked toward her people and watched them fall, one by one. Her eyelids closed for the last time, and she stared at the moon that gave them life for so long. Then, she peacefully fell into blackness.

The entire crowd eventually succumbed to the mysterious illness. Their eyes were bare and turning matte from the breeze flowing over them. They all had their gaze fixed on the moon. Piles of molted skin covered the landscape, and the final gasps rang out into the night. The moon slowly moved out of the sky behind the horizon, and cast a shadow across their corpses. Her hand was still clenching the handwritten letter. 

"Dear Neighbors,

My name is Tina Whitlock, and I am human. I come from a planet we call Earth; though you may view it from your perspective as the water planet. A virus has destroyed much of the life here, and we have barely anything left. We are desperate for help, but can't let anyone get close.

I am a scientist, and it is my job to study the world and universe around us. I am one of the few remaining humans with the ability to send this message from our surface. This is a warning to all of our neighbors that we are in dire straits!

Our earthly calculations tell us a year is one earth revolution around our star, Sol. If you view us from a distance, you can calculate that time period. This virus will not die until all other life has been consumed, and we expect that will occur within the next 2,000 years. Unless there is a remedy we don't know about yet.

I'm sending this metal box because I can safely contain these items and not spread this virus to you. Within the box are this letter, a patch of hair, a research book, and a locket with mine and my sons' pictures. The hair sample should provide an easy way to study us, understand our DNA structure, and possibly help us. The book contains the history of Earth and its inhabitants, including a visual representation of human bodies and the structures of the virus. And finally, the locket is a gift to the people who discover this. We may be long gone by the time you find us, but you'll always remember the faces of the people who sent this to you.

All I can do is hope. That whoever finds this has the ability to help. That we may help you in return. Hope that we survive.

Respectfully,

Tina"