They have been living amongst us for half a year in earth time. They like to get on with life in their own way. Sometimes you can hear them, they even understand our language. Often their voices are obliterated by strange interplanetry noises, not exactly white noise, more filled with dirt and dust, but it is their way of life.
There are many tribes: the electricians surrounded by a cloud of sparks and fire. There are the destruction troops blasting everything that presents an obstacle in their way to success, with powerful machines. They are followed by the isolators with their weapons of cladding, plastering it on surfaces until the shape of your habitat is coated with a white styrofoam. The noise is now dampened to murmers of scraping machines and a net is placed over everything. There is a strange electro smog aroma in the air. You are now being covered with metal wire and then the final torture arrives, when everything is coated in a suffocating plaster and flattened with various strange instruments.
You think you have endured everything, but in the last weeks of the invasion the painting tribe appear, clothed in white with white stains on their painter’s boots. They are quiet extra terrestrials, only speaking of events in their private abodes about their daily lives and at the beginning can only be seen through a coating of plastic that they have fixed to your dwellings. If you are courageous you can take a step outside to see what devious actions they are performing on your homes.
You hold your breath and creep up on this encounter of the third kind. He could almost be human, clad in white, and has a gloved hand with a roller attached. They can even breathe our atmosphere. He dips the roller into the pot next to him and when it appears again it is green, a very pale green, but green is green. Perhaps all the houses on his own planet are green. Will this colour shine on dark nights as a signal to show his chieftains that the job of conquest has been completed?
Eventually his work is finished for the day, but beware. It is an extra terrestrial day that is equivalent to two earth days. He will be back because his purpose is to continue the work for a second coat of this mysterious paint. He leaves us in a coccoon of plastic, with a promise that tomorrow the work will be completed. The battle to conquer our corner of the earth will be completed. No – there is a threat on the horizon of the men approaching carrying new metal blinds. Will this agony never end?