Better Than Bones and Dust
by P.M. Dooling
The protestors were gathered out in front of the barbed wire chain link fence that kept me and my kind separated from humanity.
We had come to Earth only three years earlier. A blink in our lifetime. Blown into Earth's atmosphere by a solar flare. This planet, with its teeming life had not been our intended destination--but we were here now.
It was easy to adapt. All we needed to survive was a host. So we took the dead. It was a kindness. Or so we thought. We never anticipated how much attachment humans could have to something that was just going to waste. We were simply using what would eventually rot away to bones and dust.
There was panic at first. And then, for some, the panic turned to acceptance. To a few, we became divine. The chosen ones sent to Earth by whichever creator fit their beliefs. To others we had just become a part of the natural order. Recycling, they called us. But, for many their panic had turned to revulsion. Which led to anger and fear. Which led to riots and disorder.