7.28.25: They’re Here

They arrived without ships. Just appeared, one per city. Humanoid. Still. Silver eyes. No weapons. No words. Just a countdown above their heads. Two weeks. Then ten days. Five. Panic spread. Militaries attacked. Nothing worked. On day zero, every Harvester raised a hand. The sky split like paper. Nothing fell. But every human with a terminal illness vanished. Quietly. Painlessly. Hospitals emptied. Graves remained untouched. Then the Harvesters blinked out, too. Some say it was mercy. Others think it was inventory. Either way, they’re gone. But satellites just detected another countdown—on Mars. This time, it’s already at three.