The Moon: Use it or lose it

In the year 2034, aliens arrived. Astronomers, amateurs and scientists alike, gaped in awe at the array of glittering spacecraft that docked a few thousand miles above Earth’s outer atmosphere; military types eyed up their Big Red Buttons, part in fear, part in bloodlust. 

For a few days the aliens bombarded Earth with a whole spectrum of harmless radio waves, in order to, “experts” assumed, find a way into our telecommunications with the intention of cracking us from within. Tinfoil hats became suddenly all the rage, and even Queen Elizabeth II, still somehow alive and still keeping Prince Charles off the throne, was snapped by Hello! sporting one. A message announcing the aliens’ intentions came on the fifth day, and it appeared that the alien force, in all its majesty and splendour, had for some reason learnt English from inner-city Leeds. The message, broadcast across the whole world at once, read thus:

{{{ALRIGHT LADS! WE’RE JUST GONNA PARK OURSELVES ON THIS ‘ERE MOON, NO NEED TO WORRY! IT’S OURS NOW, BUT IT’S NOT LIKE YOU WERE DOING MUCH WITH IT ANYWAY, SO IF IT’S ALL THE SAME TO YOU, WE’LL KEEP OURSELVES TO OURSELVES IF YOU KEEP TO YOURSELVES. A PLEASURE DOIN’ BUSINESS WITH YER}}}

That was to be the last Earth ever heard from the aliens, at least directly. Well, almost. The aliens must have forgotten to turn the mic off because one more accidental yet portentous dialogue came through that echoed off mountains and down city streets and sent shivers of fear down the spines of everyone on Earth.

{{{OI GAZ, YOU GOT A FAG MATE?}}}

{{{NAH MATE I’M CLEAN OUT}}}

{{{FUCKSAKE. WANT ANYTHING FROM TESCO?}}}

{{{JUST A PACK OF FAGS. AND AN APPLE}}}

{{{AN APPLE? ARE YOU GAY MATE?}}}

{{{HOW DOES WANTING AN APPLE MAKE ME GAY? ALWAYS WITH THE HOMOPHOBIA MATE}}}

{{{CHILL OUT FOR FUCK SAKE. I WAS ONLY ASKING. SHIT THE MIC’S STILL ON}}}

{{{ Click }}}

Not quite the alien invaders Earth expected.

World leaders were stumped. They couldn’t even decide if we were being invaded. We were there first, true, but the aliens had a point – we weren’t really doing anything with it. And they didn’t seem to pose any threat to Earth itself, or her citizens. And what would happen if we angered them and they just went and took the moon away. It mightn’t be beyond them, and then we’d be fucked. So after a few months of no one being able to make a decision whatsoever, the decision was made for them. 

The bulk of the alien fleet disappeared through some slip in time or whatever, no one was really sure, but a few spacecraft stayed behind and squatted on the moon and began a construction project. With a surprising efficiency, artificial atmosphere domes appeared, followed by buildings – housing, entertainment – and then vast quantities of sand and water. Within a year of the aliens’ arrival, the moon – our beloved pearlescent orb and night time friend – had been turned into a holiday resort. 

The gentle white light reflected by the moon for the entirety of its existence was replaced by a gaudy pulsating purple glow. Bass boomed day and night, a constant throbbing that disrupted sleep and frayed the nerves of everyone on Earth. Ibiza threw its hands up in the hair and gave up partying, mumbling something about kids these days. 

No one had any idea what to do. A great council was called to think of a solution, with politicians, scientists and radical thinkers invited from every state on Earth. Except Argentina, who had a proven track record of uselessness in situations like this. Negotiations were considered the best bet, but the spacecraft sent up to the moon was mistaken for an incoming holiday makers’ flight and was turned away because they didn’t have the correct documentation.

And that was how the world ended.