35 decided that since this would be his last day staying on Earth that he would do something he'd never done before: talk to someone. All of his time on the planet he decided to never utter a word to anyone. Too many languages he decided and the longer he stayed the more there were. It was an unending wall of speech that he could not be bothered with.
After all, he was supposed to destroy the planet thousands of years ago.
This was a very active planet, nothing like where he came from, and the humans loved to hear themselves. Where 35 was from if anyone made a sound the entire city would pause in confusion. It took him years to get used to the birds on Earth alone. Flight was something he had never seen. On his planet they would just...appear somewhere they needed to be.
What are you doing, 35?
“I am getting dressed.”
Why? You should be initiating--
“I know, I know” 35 said mockingly. “Initiate the revolt of the stars. I have all morning, afternoon, and evening to initiate everything. What's the rush?”
That is none of your concern.
“Why isn't it?”
I think you have been around these creatures long enough.
“I don't think you know enough about them to make that assumption.”
We have read your reports.
“That's not enough!” 35 shouted. His voiced sounded hollow in his home. “The reports aren't enough to grasp the scope of what these humans are capable of. In the last few hundreds years they have gone from blowing each other up with dynamite to--”
Blowing one another up with weapons of a nuclear nature. We've read the reports.
“So this is my fault?”
There is no fault, 35. If anything you have prolonged Earth's existence.
“Hooray for me.”
What is that sound you are making with your voice?
“It could be a number of things” 35 said as he continued getting dressed. He slipped on his shirt and looked in the mirror. Upon landing on Earth 35 was given a specific form of human to take. White male. Mid-30's. Dark hair. Average height though it could be altered if need be. Short beard. No matter which time period he was in blending would not be an issue except in certain countries. “I could be feeling sad. Pity. Anger.”
“Yes” 35 said to the ceiling. “Anger.”
Anger at whom?
“Myself” he said. “I've been here 1,316,622 days and this is the first time I've decided to even make an attempt to speak to a human.”
“I'm gonna go and talk to someone today before the revolt begins” 35 said. “Is that okay?”
It is, 35.
“Thanks” 35 said as he slipped on some loafers and left his home for the last time.
35 stepped out onto the boardwalk and watched all of the people that would not exist in less than a day. A thought crossed his mind.
“What could it hurt?” 35 asked.
35 was flooded with images of a Earth that could be if his story were told. In an instant he saw millions of humans killing one another for electronics that had no power to run them. Killing one another for religious reasons. The military killing civilians. Thousands crying in fear matching just as many that cried tears of joy. Millions dead before the revolt.
That is what it could hurt.