Its dark. The moon is out. Clouds slowly drift across the night sky. Its calm. Too calm. The atmosphere is so ominous that commentators later feel the need to use cliches to describe it. Suddenly, out of nowhere, several mysterious aircraft come flying through the air. Bam! The top half of an abandoned apartment building is suddenly gone. In its place stands a massive blue metal saucer. Screams mix with the sirens. People everywhere are staring, pointing. Its like War of the Worlds all over again, but this time, its real. 2 more saucers decend from the clouds. There is a great clanking noise; perhaps terrible weapons being unloaded and prepared? The streets below have decended into mayhem. Cars are crashing everywhere, people runnign frantically. Everyone's top priority is getting themselves, and only themselves, as far away from the scene as possible. More saucers decend. Massive crates are unloaded, and fall four stories down to the ground. Thick black cables trail behind. Rather stereotypical looking green bipedal aliens are swarming around, setting up equipment. A giant hovering platform is unloaded, and set five stories above the ground. Onlookers can see some sort of command center set up on this pad. It appears the invasion will be commanded by these three aliens, surrounded by equipment. Strange-looking keyboards, screens, and... is that a turntable? People do a double take.
The boxes are massive speakers, standing proudly, three stories tall. A few audiophiles in the crowd stop and stare; their day has just been made. Some other people realize that tables, brimming with food, line the edges of the streets. A hovering spacecraft is shining orange, flashing lights down onto what was moments ago a paniked riot scene, now apparently a dance floor. People emerge from the wreckage, curious. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light. A massive laser deploys from one of the ships. It fires a brilliant red beam into the clouds. The beam begins to swing in some strange pattern. Faster and faster, around and around it goes. It begins to blink at seemingly irregular intervals. Then persistence of vision kicks in. Its a classic Thriller moment. Projected proudly onto the clouds are the words: "BEST PARTY EVER! Time travellers welcome!". There is a deafening roar. The music has started. The speakers are pumping. People can feel the beat in a way never felt before. (The subs on those things must be awesome! like 10 meters tall, with like 2 meters of excursion!) Fuelled by the adrenaline of sheer terror experienced only moments ago, the crowd goes wild. The pounding of feet and fists adds to the heavy pulse of the beat. The food is delicous. The music is great. These mysterious partying aliens come down from their ships and join in the revelry. This is, literally, the best party ever thrown on earth.
The night wears on. Time travellers, from the distant future, appear in bright flashes of light. Multiple copies of the same people appear, each copy slightly more aged than the previous; some people had enjoyed it so much they had come back a second time. Other spacecraft show up. Planes fly in from around the world, alien shuttles transporting people who can't afford the airfare. From across the universe, people of all kind come streaming in, descending in their unique spacecraft. The party has spread; while the aliens sparked the flame, the inferno spreads across the globe. The entire continent of North America is shaking with the shared rythm of all its inhabitants (and numerous guests) dancing in sync. Hardened enemies forget their hatred. Isrealis and Palestinians form a circle, together, jumping with shared rhythym. The aliens are not the only ones stocking up the food tables. People from all over the world are bringing in their dishes. Some people are eating real food for the first time in weeks.
The party has now worn on for two or three days; its hard to tell. People have opened up their houses as places to crash, and the remaining people, rich and poor alike, share the streets, spaces underneath bridges, and bus shelters for the night. If you were to stand in the right place at the right time, you would see Lee Myung-Bak shaking hands with Kim-Jong Il, before pulling togehther in a back-slapping hug. Elsewhere, you see Taliban soldiers chilling with their newfound buddies from the West.
De-facto rest zones have been established, and in these areas, people sit, drink from the clean water now streaming out of fire hydrants, and chat. It gets a bit awkward. People realize that days ago, they were sworn enemies. One guy takes off his jacket. He looks down, realizing he is wearing an explosive vest. Emberassed, he puts the jacket back on, and leaves to "go use the washroom". He comes back slightly less bulky. During the revelry, he had forgotten that he had in fact planned to blow up the very people with whom he was now talking and laughing. Conversations between enemies become awkward and furtive. It seems like this surreal, perfect image will be shattered by the enemity now beginning to resurface.
But then out on the dancefloor, the music dies down. An announcer pages everyone into the common area. Aliens and people work together, distributing folding chairs to the masses. The DJ equipment is cleared off the hovering stage; massive SSDs filled with an enormous music collection, sampled from all across the universe carried off. A microphone is set up. The stage drops down several stories, hovering maybe ten meters above the ground. A folding staircase deploys. An MC declares an open mic. A few people wander up, thanking the aliens and asking where they came from. Aliens come up and answer, describing their home planet. People are taking turns describing their homes and lives. A geek, on stage to talk about her world, notices the stage is lined with XLR, balanced, and other random alien connectors. A mixer board languishes in the corner. Excitedly, she tells the crowd to hang on for a moment.
Minutes later, an African ensemble is assembled onstage. Someone had lent them a cople of mics, and they begin playing. Soon a there is a tangle of wires as studio engineers, as well as high-tech future people, lend out their equipment. More come up onto the stage with their instruments. Drums, sitars, guitars, everything mic'd or wired in to a massive symphony. People begin tossing down longer cables from the stage to musicians below, and setting up a wireless LAN, augmented by clever alien technology. Soon uncompressed audio is rushing in from thousands of independent DJs. Soon there is a jam session going on between literally billions of people, live. Hundreds of entire orchestras are playing in sync. Every now and then, the sound decends into dissonance, as the musical styles clash. But as time passes, this happens less and less as a common musical style is synthesised between all the individuals. The air is swelling with a pulsing mix of chords, so beautiful and exotic that people are brought to tears. Everyone who plays, plays, unashamed. Somehow, speed of sound lag doesn't hurt the jam.
Hours later, the music once again dies down. As much as everyone loves the beautiful harmony, it is becoming clear that underlying issues still need to be resolved should the party continue peacefully. The open mic resumes. People come and talk of horrors inflicted upon them by others. Children come up and speak about abusive parents, child labor employers, and military leaders. Women tell horrific tales of rape, enslavement, and human trafficking. Fathers speak of families being gunned down by rebel forces. It seems like everyone had a story to tell. Tears fell, and not just from the oppressed. For the first time, the former oppressors realize that the objects they have been exploiting are actual people. Soldiers realize the targets and silhouettes they have been shooting are actual people. An understanding on a scale has never been seen before begins to form among the masses. And then the most powerful speeches of them all: forgiveness. The monsters that have been abusing them have been revealed to also be people, and the abused realize that forgiveness is now necessary. There is a lot of emotion flying around, and people begin to form a bond of universal brotherhood.
A few days have passed. The speeches have ended, and the festivities have resumed. Now the aliens begin to pack up. Within hours, they are lifting off and disappearing into the sky. The time travelers begin to disappear, one by one. Shuttles take off. The invasion has ended.
Look around at the rubble. The world has changed over the past several days. The economy lies in ruins; basic principles such as ripping people off, even basic competition, no longer make sense. And yet somehow we manage to get by. Where in the past, the only way to survive was to fight for resources, now... it just doesn't make sense. Why would you try to keep resources away from other people, your equals, your friends, your fellow humans?
It is the end of the world as we know it.
And the beginning of a better one.
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