Preservation

Inside the largest ship, a figure with purple tendrils for hair reclined in the captain’s chair. Their bulbous head was the size of a cottage and their ship sat as large as a forest, its many instruments pointed towards the dying sun. Some miles away, an autonomous fleet of smaller square ships sat in a diamond-shaped array, their own magnetic devices oriented such that any solar energy passing through the center of the fleet would be captured. Across the Earth’s sky sat more visitors, some of their vehicles parked for the last century, some passing by for a day or two to grab some of the free radiation. They each went about their business differently, but the one thing they all seemed to agree on was that there was nothing worth looking at on the ground. 

Except for one peculiar visitor. The saucer they flew into the atmosphere was small and derelict, paying no mind to the sky behind it as it made its descent. Today, it aimed for a pallid dale, grey-like grass turned a pastel of faint life surrounded by ancient trees. Rocky land undulated around the valley, standing up hills of broken stone and dry moss that cast shadows upon the dim landscape. The saucer would land near the edge of the dale, its front hatch letting out a rusty squeal as its sole occupant emerged. The old man let out a groan of pain and relief as he flexed his lower back against his palm. Turning back to the saucer, he reached inside to retrieve a utility belt that went around his waist, a headlamp that wrapped around his ears, and a tin bucket with an old trowel inside. 

His work was short today. Only a couple hours to find them. Sunlight was still being funneled into one of the first crevasses he explored. The tips of the roots were able to salvage the remaining groundwater, but the leaves were beginning to dry. He was careful when transplanting them, and had to think for a while before a smile came to his lips. “Tulips,” he remembered.