The common ancestor of Homo sapiens and every other land animal was a lizard. She existed roughly 300 million years ago and was a riot at parties.

The common ancestor of that lizard and the cephalopods existed roughly 750 million years ago. It was a primitive flatworm, and its friends called it Polupous. It was a moral creature, for the time that it lived in at least – leaving behind no carbon footprint, no loose ends, no regrets.

The same can’t be said for any of its children.

 

Coleoidea are a subclass of cephalopods, a class of molluscs. This subclass contains the animals known as the octopus, the squid, and the cuttlefish. These names were arbitrarily given by Humans, a paranoid type of great ape who have speculated for centuries that aliens may exist.

It has long been suspected that aliens already live among us, blending in. Something less suspected is that the aliens don’t blend in at all, but no one cares to notice.

Coleoidea have over 33,000 genes coding for proteins in their DNA, something they share with no other organism. Humans have more in common genetically with every other organism than they do with coleoidea.

So, in summation, if there are aliens living among us – which there most certainly are – then the aliens are most likely one of two things, one of two groups of organisms:

Us, or them.

 

~

 

Two voices wafted out over the ocean.

“Did you hear they’ve commissioned another movie?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I just think that a movie would suck compared to the TV shows, like, on TV the CGI is fine if it’s bad because no one expects it not to be.”

“Mhm”

“It’s just a thought, man, they should budget appropriately.”

In the peak of the ever-increasing summer heat, two friends walked down the main street of their beachside hometown. Their phones read “2am” – It shouldn’t have been that hot. The inky black sky and bulbous moon screamed ‘night-time’, but the humid air could have tricked them into thinking they could walk two metres to their left, lie down on the sand, and have a nice sunbathe.

The pair had been walking for about an hour – two of the last to leave from a party on the other side of the harbour. They looked tired, but the alcohol in their blood kept their spirits high. The one with the shaved head stopped outside the Music Store, it was long closed, but he had a copy of the key sitting snug in his pocket. He’d spent most of his employment there waiting for his next appropriate bathroom break.

“We could just pop in for a second? I really have to pee.”

The one with the skull on his sweater wasn’t paying attention. He was staring out at the sea.

“Hey.” Said Shaved-Head firmly.

“What is that?” Said Skull-Sweater. He pointed at a dark shape on the beach.

Shaved-Head waddled over to his friend and squinted, trying to make his eyes work better in the dark. His gaze met two slit-shaped pupils. An octopus sat there watching them, the water lapping calmly at its head.

“Well, it’s either a young Octopus tetricus, or an old Macroctopus maorum, judging by the size.” Shaved-Head started walking again, but Skull-Sweater stood still.

“You fucking what? Since when’ve you had scientific names lying around for instant recall?”

The octopus on the beach slithered closer.

Shaved-Head sighed. “Fine. It’s either a young Gloomy Octopus, or an old wheke. Happy? Let’s go.”

“Wait, look! It’s lit up by the moon now, let’s get a closer look.” Skull-Sweater drunkenly swayed as he jumped down the retaining wall to the sand, “I’ve always wanted a pet octopus.”

The octopus slithered closer, it locked eyes with Skull-Sweater from a distance and stopped in its tracks.

“Hello!” Said Skull-Sweater.

The octopus said nothing, and then it winked at him.

“Yo!” Skull-Sweater climbed excitedly back up the retaining wall and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. “It winked at me!”

Shaved-Head stared at his friend, his face blank.

Skull-Sweater shook him, “Hey! React!”

Shaved-Head stared at his friend, his face blank.

Skull-Sweater let him go and stepped backwards. “Fuck you man, just let me have my fun.”

Shaved-Head stared at his friend, his face blank. And then he coughed.

“Did you see on the news?” Said Skull-Sweater, “All the octopi-“

“Octopuses.” Interrupted Shaved-Head.

“Right! All the octopuses that have been spotted on land? It’s an epidemic!”

Shaved-Head narrowed his eyes.

“This scientist on the news was saying it’s because of all the nuclear fallout, or global warming or something.”

Shaved-Head stared at his friend, his face blank.

“But I think they’re planning some kind of octopus revolution, vive la poulpe!”

Shaved-Head stared at his friend, his face blank. He coughed again. Spittle drooled from his mouth and dribbled down his chin as a wet gurgling sound escaped from under his skin. Before the droplet of saliva hit the ground, a tentacle burst from his mouth. Before Skull-Sweater could scream, a second tentacle popped out Shaved-Head’s right eyeball. The last thing Skull-Sweater saw before he was swallowed whole was the gaping beak of a giant octopus. It was almost beautiful, the beak surrounded by the mandela of splayed tentacles and puckered suckers.

The giant octopus put his skin-suit back on. It bulged at the seams more than usual, with his friend’s mass contained within. As he moved, you could see the partings in the rubber where the orange and purple microvillus epidermis poked through. He calmly walked down the steps, past the retaining wall, and onto the sand. The octopus on the beach stood to attention.

“Sir! You told me to end your holiday prematurely if we located the squid. Sir!” The octopus saluted – it would have looked odd, had anyone been watching.

“I liked him, Geoffrey.” Said Shaved-Head.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Said Geoffrey.