Standing side by side in a building, rows of an entire congregation finished singing a hymn.

An elder stood up behind a pulpit ...

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Please sit down, my children ...

Today, we celebrate the 30th anniversary of our most miraculous rescue.

I recall that day just like yesterday, albeit much younger than I am now ... They arrived in humongous flying saucers—by the thousands—orbiting our homeworld. No communication. No action. Their ships hovered in our atmosphere for countless days.

Our once noble government sent forth a reconnaissance team to investigate. They penetrated the hull of a ship and discovered a gelatinous goo stored in hundreds of millions of vats.

But many of our people asked, “Where are the aliens?”

No one came up with an answer.

Our scientists tested the goo and found it highly nutritional. In fact, its nanoparticles grew by contacting our air. They could distribute it anywhere to replace every known food source.

Our people celebrated—“Eureka! We struck gold! An elixir of life!”

Scholars endlessly debated, trying to figure out the purpose of the supply ships. They unanimously agreed—the aliens sent shipments of their food for whatever reason, but perhaps by mistake to the wrong planet.

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So all of us waited for years and years. Over two decades passed. And yet no one arrived.

Out of panic and desperation, world leaders said we must feed the goo to our starving billions. The climate changed so drastically we faced a global famine.

World starvation as a result of our own neglect! Our own greed! Our own lack of foresight! Generations of our own people about to needlessly suffer or perish ...

In their great wisdom, our leadership at that time concluded that alien philanthropists understood our coming struggle—eat or die.

So all of the world’s governments ordered farmers across the planet to cultivate the goo and feed it to everyone. Even though scholars protested, we proved them wrong.

Our people thrived with remarkably rejuvenated health! The goo itself came with some critical life-changing properties—it cured us of every disease and increased our fertility rate. We reproduced in vast numbers with a perfect offspring. By that, I mean all of you, with no genetic abnormalities, extreme temperature resilience, superior strength, and an immunity to all known ailments.

Here on this planet far away from our homeworld, we express our deepest gratitude to our alien benefactors on this celebratory day.

Let us join together in a ceremony to honor them ...

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Members of the congregation stood up, got in line, and stepped forward single-file.

Each one wore protection eyewear and the same beige colored outfit with a thick pair of gloves and heavy boots, and a flashing electronic collar around their neck.

One by one, they took turns—heads bowed down, kneeling before an alien statue—with their hands cupped, capturing droplets of the goo, and then consuming it.

Once finished, each member returned to their assigned seat.

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The elder spoke up again—“Now my children, let’s express our most sincere gratitude. Return to your cultivation stations! So that we can help save other civilizations who may suffer. So they too shall prosper and be given an equal opportunity to participate in our joyful ceremonies.”