Attack Of The New Year

| Friendly | March 2, 2015

(I have a friend that lives in America; I am from Malaysia. Due to time differences, it is three in the afternoon on January 1st, 2015 where I am, but only ten in the evening, December 31st for her. We are chatting online.)

Friend: “So how’s the future? The new year and all that.”

Me: “Don’t tell anyone but aliens attack. Everything gets destroyed at two minutes and fourteen seconds after midnight. I suggest you hide.”

Friend: “Oh, my God! HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?!”

Me: “[Mutual friend from Australia] told me. She’s two hours in the future more than I am.”

Friend: “You hide and tell the stories of our forefathers.”

Me: “I have hidden, and recorded the events down. Now I am trying to warn as many as I can, but nobody believes me.”

Friend: “Thank you. I must know. Do dogs survive? Oh, my god! Is [her best friend who is three hours in front of her] a survivor!?”

Me: “You have asked a very hard question. To both. The answers may not be what you seek.”

Friend: “Fine! Are the aliens hot at least? Like humanoid?”

Me: “Dogs do survive, but the radiation from the spacecraft turn them savage. I have not been able to reach [her best friend]… They are indeed ‘hot’. Literally. They come from the sun. And speak a variety of languages. I think they may have studied us for a long time before the invasion.”

Friend: “Oh dear, how horrifying.”

Me: “It was terrifying.”

Friend: “Are we destroyed? Our species?! WHO ARE THE SURVIVORS?!”

Me: “Some were destroyed, others taken. I do not know what they do with those they take.”

Friend: “TAKEN?! Is a rebellion in the works?!”

Me: “I do not want to risk the safety of the survivors because they are still on the hunt. It’s not safe to remain in one place too long… Rebellion is futile, their numbers are too many. We are in the process of gathering all we can. And we must warn those still in the past. We each have our jobs. Those that can fight are fighting. I am not one of those who can. My job is to spread the word. They will come for me soon.”

Friend: “How is your job assigned? Assuming I survive.”

Me: “One of us will find you. You will know who they are.”

Friend: “IS IT BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH?! PLEASE LET IT BE OR TOM HIDDLESTON!”

Me: “This is no time for jokes! The human race is dying!”

Friend: “I’m very serious. RE-POPULATION IS NO LAUGHING MATTER.”

(We continue for a few moments about the types of ‘jobs’ those who have survived can have before I ‘die’; the aliens have broken into my house and I am forced to say my goodbyes.)

Me: “Goodbye, [Friend]. I hope you make it.”

Friend: *solemnly* “Goodbye, [My Name].”

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