Visitors 101 Our most distant cousins have been visiting us for millennia. It is only in relatively recent history since the invention of the camera that their surprisingly friendly visitations have been documented on film. Previously humans relied on written accounts or artistic depictions, some of which we hope to show you should they be released to us soon. However this evidence, when it occasionally surfaces is quickly confiscated or ridiculed and labelled as a hoax, so amazingly these visits remain merely a myth until this day. In dusty boxes hidden in shady museums and secure facilities these pictures are mostly hidden away indefinitely until someone discovers them and is brave enough to leak them onto the internet and into public consciousness. Here is our first batch of pictorial documentation of these visitors throughout the ages. Visitor 061- c1930s The Hutt The sun beat down, yellowing the grass in the backyard, where Dad had set out a couple of rickety lawn chairs like he was expecting a neighbour, not some slug-like colossus from beyond the void. The Hutt, big as a Buick but half the size of his father, lounged in one of them, his folds gleaming under the wide, honest sky. “Long time since I’ve been on Earth,” the Hutt rumbled, voice like gravel shifting in the universe’s gut. He had a cigar balanced between two stubby fingers, unlit, just for the ritual of it. “Not much has changed. Still smells like rain and regret.” Dad nodded, arms crossed, his face tight in that way it always got when he didn’t want me to hear something. “We got problems,” he said, low and sharp. “The Key’s gone.” The young Hutt tilted his head back, staring at the swirls of clouds like they might answer for it. “Gone? How? That thing’s older than stars, you don’t just misplace something like that.” Dad shot me a look, the kind that told me to scram, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I wanted to see how this played out. So I leaned against the fence, kicking a loose plank like I wasn’t eavesdropping. “I didn’t misplace it,” Dad muttered. “It’s here. I know it’s here, somewhere on Earth. Just need time to find it.” “Time,” the Hutt said, and for a second, the cigar cracked under the pressure of his fingers. “Time’s what we’re running out of, old friend.” I didn’t know what they were talking about—this Key, this ticking clock of theirs—but I could feel it, something big, bigger than the Hutt’s shadow swallowing up the lawn. Bigger than all of us.