The Alien’s Decision
In the quiet expanse of space, a lone starship drifted silently near the blue-green planet called Earth. Inside, Xyrik, an alien scout from the distant planet Vorran, sat in contemplation. His mission had been simple: observe Earth, collect data, and decide if the planet’s inhabitants posed a threat to the galaxy—or if they were worth saving.
Xyrik's people, the Vorrans, were ancient and advanced. They had seen countless civilizations rise and fall across the stars. Some species had ascended to greatness, spreading peace and knowledge. Others had succumbed to greed and destruction, threatening the delicate balance of the cosmos. It was Xyrik's duty to determine which path humanity was on.
He had observed Earth for decades, blending into human society using advanced cloaking technology. He had walked among them, watched their wars, their inventions, their kindness, and their cruelty. Humanity, he realized, was a paradox—capable of immense destruction but also profound compassion.
Now, his mission was nearing its end. The Vorran council awaited his report. Would he recommend that Earth be left to its fate, guided by its own decisions? Or would he advocate for intervention, knowing it could save humanity but at the cost of their freedom?
Xyrik replayed his memories:
The young girl who had shared her only meal with a stranger on a cold night.
The devastation of a city torn apart by war.
The scientist who had spent a lifetime curing diseases, giving hope to millions.
The greed of corporations that poisoned the planet for profit.
The decision weighed heavily on him. Vorran policy was clear: if a species posed more harm than potential, intervention was authorized. But Xyrik had grown fond of humanity. Their music, their art, their resilience—it was unlike anything he had encountered in the galaxy.
He stood before the glowing console in his ship, the final report ready for submission. His three-clawed hand hovered over the interface, hesitating.
“Are they worth it?” he muttered to himself.
At that moment, a message crackled through his receiver. A child’s voice, faint and innocent, transmitted from a radio broadcast on Earth:
“...and if anyone out there can hear us, we just want you to know, we’re trying. We want to do better.”
Xyrik froze. The voice resonated with something deep inside him. Humanity was flawed, yes, but they were also trying. Their potential for greatness was undeniable, even if they often stumbled along the way.
With a deep breath, Xyrik made his decision. He input his recommendation: Non-interference, but active observation and guidance if requested.
The Vorran council would not interfere directly, but Xyrik would remain, a silent guardian, nudging humanity toward its better nature.
As his ship cloaked and became invisible once more, Xyrik gazed at the vibrant Earth below.
“They deserve a chance,” he said softly. “Maybe they’ll surprise us all.”
