Year -25508 AA: GN-z11, Ursa Major

  Under the light of three golden moons a hooded figure glided across a desert and stopped at a burning tree.

  The land was quiet, except for the howl of hot wind and hiss of silver sand. The figures' robes swirled gently at their metallic feet.

  After a time another figure approached the burning tree. Both bodies were slender, however one was taller and more hunched. Rather than faces, a faint purple glow shone from the depths of their hoods. They bowed once then sat quietly on a gnarled root. Silent blue flames flickered around their bodies.

  “What have you found?” asked the taller figure in a voice that rang with deep sonic waves and a crackle of electricity.

  The other looked up at the sky for a long while, then dipped a hand into the sand. In one motion, they flung sand into the darkness and an arc of light blasted through the desert. In its wake, glittering sand began to hover and make shapes in the sky: waves of trash crashing down on shores slick with oil, billows of smoke erupting from stacks, loud blasts and booms from sparking tanks rolling through the night sky.

  The shorter figure spoke.

  “A brutal race.”

  The taller figure stood and watched the sky intently.

  “They ignore the screams of their hungry,” the sand in the sky shifted to show humans lined on streets sleeping in filth, “…they defile their planet. They refuse to help those most vulnerable, hoarding resources like—”

  The taller figure abruptly spoke, “How many?” It asked.

  “Billions.”

  The sand fell gently from the sky like snow to rest on the dunes. The taller figure sat down and dipped their head low into the fire. The tree pulsed brighter.

  “We are running out of time,” said the taller figure. “Will it work?”

  “Perhaps,” Replied the smaller figure.

  Again it scooped sand, then held out their open palm to the sky. The wind carried the sparkling grains up into the darkness.

  They watched the sand above make an outline of a child who gazed at the golden moons.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Their young.”

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  Year 2,050 : Milky Way Galaxy

  It was night and Mr. Larson lounged against the kitchen sink and nibbled on a slice of warm peach pie. He watched the neighbor's cat stalk a moth under the porchlight. The cat suddenly pounced on the fluttering creature and gobbled it up in a series of chomps. Mr. Larson scrunched his face in disgust then shoveled another forkful of pie in his mouth.

  While eating, he tried to spot the moon through the smog and high rise buildings. He could not. However, that didn’t damper his sprits because tonight was Mrs. Larson's turn to put their baby to bed; the process was rigorous and soul crushingly draining. Their older son, who never fought sleep, was already tucked into his bunk and gently snoring.

  Mr. Larson wiped crumbs from his mustache with his pinky finger and reached for a glass of water. A red light blinked petulantly near the nozzle.

  “Bollocks,” he exclaimed. They had met their daily water quota. Mrs. Larson had been making batches of formula for the baby who greedily downed the bottles on account of the growth spurt his wife declared the baby was constantly undergoing. Mr. Larson suspected his wife overfed the bundle of butter so it would sleep like a log at night.

  Mr. Larson twisted the handle of the faucet, but only a drop plunked onto the metal sink.

  He gave up and instead filled a glass with a fizzy, slightly more viscous substitute made from a substance that he cared not to think too deeply about; it was certainly cancerous or filled with nano plastics, but everything was. He peered into the glass and shrugged.

  Mrs. Larson screamed.

  Yelping, Mr. Larson dropped the glass and waddled quickly from the kitchen down the hallway to his daughter’s nursery. He flipped the light switch and revealed his wife bent over the crib. A tiny arm covered in rolls swatted at Mrs. Larson’s pearls.

  “What’s wrong dear? I heard you scream!”

  “I thought…I had seen…well,” she looked up at Mr. Larson and her face was stark white, “I thought I saw something in her eyes. I could’ve sworn I did.” Her head was suddenly yanked down as the little hand found the necklace.

  Mr. Larson walked over to his daughter's crib and pushed the spaceship mobile away from his head. He looked intently into his daughters round eyes.

  “I don't see anything, dear.”

  Mrs. Larson gently removed the fingers from her necklace then pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, “It was probably nothing, I just need a cup of tea and afterwards I'll head to bed early. Save me some of that pie!” She looked pointedly at Mr. Larson who burped quietly.

  Mr. Larson switched the lights off as he exited the room.

  His wife screamed again.

  “Look! See, what is that?”

  Mr. Larson scurried back into the dark room and stood next to his wife. Two glowing eyes, belonging to his daughter, stared back at them. Mr. Larson looked closer. They indeed glowed! Minuscule specks of twinkled from within the baby's iris.

  “In Egog’s name, what is that?” Mr. Larson adjusted his thin wire glasses and looking closer. “Darling, it's impossible,” Mr. Larson abruptly stood up, knocking his head on the mobile, “she has stars in her eyes!”

  “Stars?”

  “Yes, stars! Look, it's the little dipper, and in this one there’s Orion's belt, see here.” Mr Larson pointed a meaty finger precariously close at his daughter's left eye. She clutched the finger with two small hands and let out a soft “Goo!”

  Mrs. Larson bent closer to her child’s face and moaned, “Oh dear,” She straightened up and clutched Mr. Larson's sleeve, “Should we ring the doctor?”

  “Well, perhaps, but she doesn't look distressed, does she? Also, remember when we called the Doctor and she was only constipated and needed a warm bath, well maybe it’s something like that and it’ll disappear in the morning?” Replied Mr. Larson, sheepishly.

  “I don’t think a warm bath and a suppository will fix this,” said his wife. Mr. Larson nodded meekly and the mobile bounced off his forehead again.

  The parents looked down at their daughter in awe. She looked back with starry eyes. The baby let out a toot and suddenly closed her eyes.

  “How Strange,” whispered Mr. Larson in the dark.

  Mrs. Larson promptly shushed him.