The cicadas are come and gone. It’s too quiet. It seems to me we missed something. Some ritual of sorts. We got visited by lifeforms that appear every 17 years. For a month they controlled us with their shrill non-stop chirping that sounded like deep space invasion.
All sorts of incredulous stories were told about them by experts. I remember one entomologist explaining how the male cicada puts a lock on the female after mating so she can’t do it with someone else, but then he goes on to hunt for the next female. Obviously these cicadas need some mad sisters in the house.
They are also a well-coordinated suicidal cult. They spread a fungus STD that blows up their stomachs and they all die together. If there were a Church of the Holy Cicadas that prophesied their return after mass suicide, it would be the only religion that doesn’t lie.
These insects (psst – don’t believe the lie, they really are aliens) keep a calendar too. I can’t even do a one-week countdown to an assignment deadline and these guys can do a 17-year countdown to resurrection. I experienced the 2004 cicada invasion on the east coast, exactly 17 years ago.
I don’t know why NASA keeps saying there’s no evidence of alien life. I’m disturbed that we are not closing this mindblowing experience with a celebration, a ritual, a homage to this visitation. This was Close Encounter of the Seventh Kind. Humans literally ate the aliens. Captured them, fried them and gobbled them up. Something is bound to grow out of some human skulls.
