Postcards from Space

Image of an ornate snow sculpture of a pagoda and giant figures, possibly from a cartoon? One has glowing eyes.
Greetings, Earthlings.

We have been watching you for some time—observing your struggles with each other and your issues caring for this magnificent, water-covered planet. We come, therefore, in a sort of peace.

We come, let’s say, to cool things down around here.

Those of you who survive will come to appreciate our beauty—one of your former leaders called us “living ice sculptures,” a description we love. At any rate, you need never worry about “global warming” again.

With hope for a tranquil future,
Your new leaders
Silhouettes of a cowboy and saguaro cactus against an insanely bright blue field of stars.
Dearest Bess,
It’s powerful lonely out here without you. The supply shuttle only lands once per hectoday, and each time I have to spend decadays rounding up the Jersey Lizards—they’re so dang horny for the plasma engines that they break clean through the ion fence. Meanwhile, the photonic chickens ululate so deafeningly that I swear even the gene-tweaked saguaros try to cover their ears. But it’s worth it, when the shuttle brings me your letters. I only hope I can earn your passage here before the next gigastorm wipes Texas clean into the Gulf o’Merica. You’ll love it here. Through this planet’s blue atmosphere, every star in the sky looks like the blue marble of home.
Missing you!
Beau

Postcards: We Shan’t Return

Image of an Airstream trailer with kludgy wings and parachutes, atop a metal structure between industrial buildings.
Dear Dale, I only hoped to achieve flight. Could sails carry my little lead balloon across the continent, over an ocean, drifting on the wind? I accelerated over a mountain ledge, and my stomach dropped. I was going to plummet to infamy rather than soaring to fame. But something happened, something I hadn’t calculated. I rocketed up, into space! The blue marble dropped away, shrinking to nothing. I got scared—this tin can wasn’t sealed against the vacuum of space. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them, the sky outside was as blue as Earth’s. I’ve landed atop some kind of structure. Soon I’ll climb down and explore this new planet. I hope it has tacos. Yours, Horace
Vintage-style image of an organ in a cavern.
Dearest Terrence, The cave sang; that’s how I found it. Wisps of unearthly melody from a crack in the earth. I descended heedlessly, enraptured by the siren call. After many twists and turns the cavern opened into a vast auditorium whose very stalactites were ringing. I stood inside a vast instrument, and at a keyboard sat a being the likes of which I’d never seen. Covered in soft dark fur, beckoning with a long tail, blinking her huge eyes in my lantern’s dim light. I dimmed the light further, sat at her side, and oh what a duet we played! I shan’t return. Love, Millicent

Postcards: Unseen Dangers, Dangerously Unseen

Image of two space-suited cats exiting a lunar lander called "MIZIA," being greeted enthusiastically by flag-waving cats wearing strange hats.
Dear Earthlings, We were human when we launched, but treated like animals. “Volunteered” for a likely suicide mission to find the lost lunar explorers. Imagine our surprise to be greeted like heroes here, embraced like family, welcomed home. We took our helmets off and found our faces transformed. Imagine our joy. Send as many ships as you like; we’ll welcome all who make the journey. Or send no more and leave us in peace. Warmest regards, Cat People of the Moon
Image of an ornate set of clothes on a headless, handless mannikin.
Dear Admissions, Please accept my application to the School of Fashion. I’ve enclosed a photo of myself modeling my favorite items I’ve made in sewing class here at St. Clair’s School for the Invisible. I couldn’t choose, so I wore everything! As you can see, I favor bold color and texture combinations. It’s so important for clothing to really catch the eye, for safety (and personal expression too, of course). I hope you like it. A lot of my blood, sweat & tears went into these pieces—it’s hard to use a sewing machine when you can’t see your fingers. Thanks for your consideration! Tanya