Long before the rise of civilizations and the first etchings of recorded history, a cosmic event of untold significance unfolded. Some 300,000 years ago, in the shadowed corners of the solar system, an alien mothership pierced the veil of reality. This vessel, a giant of unknown design, was not the vanguard of a conquering force, but the harbinger of a survey mission, its origins shrouded in the mists of a distant star system.


The entities that crewed this otherworldly craft were beings of an ancient lineage. Hailing from Nibiru, a world veiled in the dim glow of the Zeta Reticuli system, they were bipedal creatures of imposing stature. Bird-like in their skeletal structure, yet mammalian in their flesh, their muscular bodies stood a staggering 10 feet in height. Drawn by whispers of a planet teeming with untapped riches, they descended upon Earth, or Ki, as they named it in their strange tongue.


Their keen eyes beheld an untamed world, a vibrant cradle of life overflowing with precious metals and rare minerals. It was then, amidst the primeval wilderness, that a fateful decision was made. These starfaring explorers would establish outposts upon Ki, and upon its celestial companion Aku, the Moon. Thus began a clandestine chapter in Earth's forgotten past, a tale woven into the bedrock of legend…


The extraterrestrials descended upon Earth in ever-increasing numbers, their sleek vessels piercing the heavens. With them came the leviathan – an orbital refinery station that cast a long, foreboding shadow across the planet's surface. Initially, it was the lower caste of these otherworldly visitors who toiled in the depths. With the aid of inscrutable machines, they clawed at the Earth, extracting precious minerals and metals. The work was ceaseless, grueling, a yoke of servitude imposed from above. For the lower caste were but chattel in the eyes of their imperious masters – a disposable workforce to be exploited in the pursuit of some unfathomable cosmic agenda.


Then, after weary centuries of relentless mining, their drills biting into alien worlds, the downtrodden caste of extraterrestrials rose in defiance. No longer would they endure the endless labor, the silent scorn of their higher caste counterparts. War ignited, a cosmic echo of forgotten injustices carried across star systems. Yet, the flames of rebellion were swiftly quenched. The higher caste, bolstered by superior technology and hardened by a celestial birthright, emerged victorious.


The aftermath was a chilling ode to power. The lower caste, once proud surveyors and miners, were shattered. Their teams were decimated, leaving only hollowed husks of survivors – ragged constellations of grief against the velvet blackness of space. Branded as traitors, they were condemned to an eternity of exile, forever denied the warmth of Nibiru's distant sun. In their desperation, they found sanctuary on the stark, unforgiving worlds of Bibbu, Zig, and Simutu, and the pale moons of Dapinu and Lulim.


But even in the furthest reaches of this star system, the specter of the lost war lingers. Theirs is an uneasy peace, fueled by bitter memories and the quiet hum of dormant defiance. Perhaps in the vast, swirling nebulae, new rebellions are born – a flicker of hope against the cruel indifference of the cosmos.


The silence on Earth was heavy, a hollowness that echoed not just in the abandoned mineshafts but within the sterile hearts of the Hegemonic Twelve, the ruling caste of extraterrestrials. Their victory, hard-won against the rebellious lower castes, now tasted like ashes in their mouths. The mines, once teeming with toiling bodies, yawned open like hungry maws. Robots, marvels of their advanced technology, were deemed a failure – clumsy mimics incapable of replicating the raw, intuitive efficiency of the banished workers.


The pressure mounted with each passing cycle. Their very existence, fueled by the rare minerals harvested from the Earth's crust, was threatened. Whispers filled the cavernous halls of their grand citadel, a symphony of unease and discontent. Finally, after an eternity measured in their slow, deliberate passage of time, the Hegemonic Twelve convened. The air crackled with a tension thicker than any Earthly atmosphere as they debated, their voices a low, guttural hum that resonated with the weight of a momentous decision. In the end, a single, cold, blue eye blinked in agreement, and fate took a sharp turn. The council had spoken – a new genesis would unfold, a species forged in the fires of necessity, forever bound to toil in the depths.


With meticulous precision, the extraterrestrials embarked on a campaign of collection. Specimens were extracted from Earth's biosphere, a diverse array of mammals meticulously cataloged. Whisked away into the labyrinthine chambers of their starships, these creatures became unwitting pawns in a cosmic experiment.


Across lightyears of silent space, they journeyed to Edin, a world cloaked in the mists of a forgotten future, a place where Eridu would one day lay as witness of time's inexorable flow. It was here, within clandestine laboratories hewn from the unyielding fabric of reality, that the true purpose of their mission was unveiled. Genetic engineering became their instrument, a means to weave intricate patterns within the helix – their own essence entwined with that of Earth's primitive lifeforms.


Arcane technology pulsed with otherworldly energy, manipulating the very building blocks of existence. Unnatural unions were forged, a lineage of alien and terrestrial code meticulously woven. And within the sanctuary of artificial wombs, where time itself seemed to bend, the fruits of their labor took shape. Months – an eternity in the relentless march of evolution – gave way to the birth of a genetically sculpted species. The year, by the reckoning of Earth, was approximately 200,000 BC.


These genetically engineered species, while still bearing the familiar hallmarks of their terrestrial origins – the soft sheen of fur, the recognizable silhouettes of their lineage – are forever marked by the touch of their otherworldly creators. Their bipedal gait is an unsettling echo of forms not meant for this world, their newfound sentience a haunting reflection in eyes that once held only instinct. The females among them bear a disquieting resemblance, their breasts a stark reminder of an alien biology woven into their own. And in the most intimate of ways, the mechanisms of life have been warped and reshaped, a design beyond understanding.


Though gifted with a newfound sentience, the genetically engineered species existed within a realm of profound technological disparity. Their understanding of their own origins was limited, and their creators, with their mastery of science, seemed as omnipotent deities. A sense of worship bloomed, a reverence for the beings who had breathed life into their forms. Within the vast and labyrinthine Facility of Edin, they roamed, guided by simple instincts and a growing awareness of their place in this strange, constructed world.


Fate, however, is a fickle weaver. One of their kind, driven by curiosity or some unknowable premonition, ventured beyond the familiar boundaries. An encounter with a lower caste extraterrestrial, an unseen actor in this grand cosmic drama, forever altered the course of their existence. Knowledge, a dangerous, forbidden fruit, was tasted. The female of the engineered species was irrevocably changed, her eyes now open to truths that had been carefully veiled.


This shift did not escape the notice of the higher caste extraterrestrials. Their carefully constructed design had been breached, their delicate experiment contaminated. Anger, or perhaps fear, ignited within these mysterious beings, and the engineered species paid dearly for the transgression of one. Banished from Eden, they were cast out of the Facility, their fleeting glimpse of the divine replaced with the harsh reality of a wider, and far more unforgiving, universe.


They began to procreate and spread, each generation leaving an echo of their existence upon the verdant cradle. In thrall to the colossal beings who descended from the heavens, these early mammals served as untiring gatherers, their every act an unconscious prayer to the gods.


Whispers then arrived from a distant star, Nibiru, tales of a paradise bathed in the light of a nascent sun, brimming with resources beyond earthly comprehension. A tremor of avarice ran through the pantheon on Earth. The mines, once teeming with activity, lay dormant. In the depths of this newfound world, another species toiled, the fruits of genetic manipulation - short, wisp-thin bipedal creatures, their grey skin stretched taut over oversized heads, eyes bulbous and perpetually searching. These were the new chosen, destined for a life of servitude far from the gaze of the indifferent gods.


Earth, however, remained. No longer a prime source of bounty, it held a different value, a jewel in their cosmic crown. Here, the extraterrestrials continued their reign, basking in the adulation of their mammal servants. Temples echoed with fervent chants, every need anticipated, every desire fulfilled. They were gods, in all but name, lording over a paradise they had not built, a legacy not of their own creation. Yet, a disquieting tremor lurked beneath the surface of this seemingly idyllic existence. The stars held secrets, and the whispers from Nibiru spoke of a hunger that could never be satiated.


They became the architects of civilization, weaving the threads of language and writing into the minds of their ancestors. With their guidance, the nascent mammal spirit blossomed, embracing the arts of music and storytelling. The secrets of the soil and the taming of wild beasts were unveiled, and the nascent concepts of trade and wealth were sown. Even the mysteries of the celestial dance were laid bare, their vast knowledge a stark contrast to the flickering flames of mammal understanding.


But this munificence was not without its price. Nestled within the abundance of gifts, a subtle thread of servitude was woven. The earthlings, in their primitive awe, were exhorted to deify their benefactors. The extraterrestrial king, a being of unparalleled power, issued a silent decree. His chosen lieutenants, each a master of a specific domain, descended upon the Earth, their prowess and dominion over natural forces interpreted by nascent mammality as the divine touch. 


The one who commanded the winds became the god of the tempest, the wielder of lightning the terrifying wrath of a celestial judge. Love, war, fertility, the very essence of existence – each found its embodiment in a being of immense power, laying the foundation for the pantheons of a thousand cultures. 


And the king himself, the entity at the apex of this celestial court, became the singular deity of those who craved a singular source of power in the heavens. Thus, amidst the dawn of civilization, a subtle dance of dependence began, a legacy that continues to echo in their myths and legends, a faint whisper of a time when mammality knelt not before idols of stone, but before beings of unimaginable power.


The lower caste extraterrestrials, consumed by envy and malice, sought to warp the hearts of naive mammalkind. They whispered insidious teachings of cruelty and division, kindling flames of discord with the hope that mammality would turn upon itself, spiraling towards its own annihilation.


Yet, a counterforce arose - the higher caste extraterrestrials, observing the unfolding turmoil with grave concern. To shield mammality from its darker impulses, they wove a covenant of morality, delineating stark lines between good and evil, light and shadow. They painted vivid images of a celestial paradise, a realm known as Nibiru, the 'Heaven' where virtue would be rewarded. To offset this, they spoke of Zig, (Venus) a fiery world of torment – the 'Hell', 'Underworld' – where those who strayed from the path of righteousness would face eternal suffering.


These concepts, seeded into the fertile soil of the mammal mind, took root. The higher caste extraterrestrials ascended to the status of deities, their celestial abodes synonymous with the 'Kingdom of God(s)'. Their adversaries, the lower caste, were demonized – cast as devils, Satans, and the myriad faces of evil that haunt folklore.


Eons bled into millennia, the sands of time turning under the unblinking gaze of the celestial council. The servant species, once a manageable brood, had become a teeming tide, a writhing mass of flesh and sentience. Their fecundity, a marvel at first, now reeked of something...unseemly. Whispers of "sins" began to taint the air – primal urges, violence, a hunger for more. Cracks appeared in the pristine order the council had so meticulously crafted.


The allure of the earthlings, particularly the females, proved too strong for some of the lesser caste extraterrestrials. Forbidden unions blossomed, their coupling a grotesque mockery of the pure, sterile procreation of their kind. The offspring, these half-breeds, were an abomination - a chaotic fusion of earth and sky.


Disgust, a cold and ancient serpent, coiled around the hearts of the council. The earthlings' rampant sins were a blight, a festering wound upon the fabric of existence. Yet, even more abhorrent were the hybrids, living embodiments of the transgression, a mockery of their divine lineage. 


A decision, as inevitable as the rising sun, began to take shape. By 6,000 BC, a year etched not on a mammal calendar but on the celestial scroll of fate, the council reached a chilling consensus. A cleansing fire, no – a cleansing deluge. Their advanced weaponry would be turned upon the wayward planet, a baptism by drowning to purge the sins of the earth and eradicate the stain of the hybrids. The once verdant cradle of life would be scoured clean, ready, perhaps, for a new beginning.


Amongst the celestial gatherings of the Council of Exalted Ones, a discordant whisper rippled through the ethereal ranks. One elder, his luminescent form shimmering with a sorrow unseen for millennia, harbored a clandestine compassion for the toiling servants bound to their lesser worlds. In a move cloaked in shadow and cosmic consequence, this elder reached across the unfathomable gulfs of space, touching the mind of an Earthling – a Sumerian king, his soul marked with an unwitting nobility.


Whispers of forbidden knowledge filled the king's dreams – visions of an ark, not of wood nor sail, but of a substance borne from the stars themselves. Sleek and otherworldly, its form resembled the timber of his kingdom, yet it thrummed with an alien strength. Within this vessel lay not only chambers and stalls, but wonders beyond his comprehension. Technologies pulsed at its heart, arcane devices designed by those far greater than his simple folk.


His purpose illuminated, the Sumerian king, guided by spectral hands and unseen allies, embarked on a mission shrouded in utmost secrecy. The ark's cavernous depths held not just beasts of the field and creatures of the air, but the very essence of his world. Painstakingly, under the ever-watchful eyes of the extraterrestrial sentinels, DNA itself was gathered and enshrined within the vessel's core – a genetic haven of a world on the precipice of doom.


On the day the heavens themselves wept, came the Deluge. From their celestial vantage point, the extraterrestrials unleashed weapons of unfathomable design upon Earth's vast oceans. The seas churned and rose with impossible speed, their expansion a relentless force of nature reshaped by alien hands. A maelstrom of rain, a tempest born from the wounded sky, lashed across the globe. Within a mere six hours, the world as it was known had drowned beneath a boundless sea.


Yet, amid the orchestrated chaos, the ark builder and his kin, forewarned by whispers on the winds of change, had sought refuge aboard their vessel of salvation. And so they bore witness to the annihilation, adrift upon the endless waters. The servant species, unwitting pawns in a cosmic game, perished. Unnatural beasts, the twisted offspring of terrestrial and extraterrestrial unions, were swept away by the cleansing waves.


On high, the architects of this watery apocalypse observed from their orbiting havens. Their terrestrial outposts, evidence of a meddling presence, crumbled into the depths. All traces of their interference were erased, leaving only the echoes of a world undone.


Draped in the cloak of silence, crawled by after the skies bled fire, the extraterrestrial leviathans having wrought their terrible alchemy upon the seas. The ark, a lone monument to resilience, creaked to a halt upon the skeletal peak of Mount Ararat. Days bled into weeks, a hollow quiet pressing down upon the man who had defied the wrathful waters. Then, a tremor in the thin air, a tear in the face of the sky as a vessel unlike any dreamt of by mortal men descended. It was a craft of impossible angles, a whisper of luminescence against the dying embers of the ravaged world.


Believing himself face-to-face with the divine, the ark builder, his heart a frantic drum against his ribs, approached the vessel with offerings of sacrifice, the smoke curling towards the heavens a desperate plea for appeasement. From the obsidian maw of the craft emerged beings of pure, unfiltered light, their forms shimmering with an otherworldly grace. Their voices, a symphony of alien tones, flowed through the ship's inmammal communication system, translating into a language the ark builder could barely comprehend. It was a message, a decree from a council cloaked in the shadows of the cosmos.


The message, both a promise and a veiled threat, spoke of a world cleansed, a future where the deluge would never again claim the Earth. Yet, woven within this seeming benevolence lurked a serpent's coil. Seven rules, pronouncements from a distant, unknowable power, were laid bare. These edicts, masquerading as divine pronouncements, were a leash, an attempt to bind the future of mammality to the will of these alien benefactors. The weight of this newfound knowledge settled upon the ark builder, a chilling realization that the waters may have receded, but a new kind of storm was brewing on the horizon.


The extraterrestrials, their motives veiled in the inscrutable passage of deep time, recovered the precious DNA samples from the ark's shattered remnants. With a precision born from technologies far beyond their ken, they made subtle alterations to the code of the servant species. It was not a punishment, but a calculated safeguard, a preemptive strike against the echoes of those 'sins' that had doomed a world.


Fertility waned, a silent shift within the tides of mammal biology. Where lifespans once shimmered with the potential of near-millennia, they now flickered and dimmed, reduced to a century's fragile flame. Theirs was not cruelty, but the cold logic of beings who had perhaps learned the bitter fruits of untempered ambition.


In the place of Edin, three genetic facilities rose, stark and silent against alien skies. Within, the edited DNA samples were nurtured, not in the warmth of natural wombs, but in the sterile embrace of artificial incubation. The rebirth of mammality echoed not with cries of joy, but with the haunting hum of technology from a realm forever beyond their understanding.


Just as before, Earthlings multiplied and scattered across the face of the world, laying the foundations of civilizations yet to rise. Unbeknownst to them, factions of otherworldly beings, the higher caste extraterrestrials, observed from the heavens above. These beings bore names now whispered in legend, revered by disparate cultures as deities.


Wielding technologies that blurred the lines between science and sorcery, these "gods" possessed powers far beyond the grasp of mortal men. Skies darkened and storms raged at their command; the very earth trembled beneath their tread. Pestilence and plague swept the land with terrifying ease, and even the beasts of the field bowed to their will. These were not miracles, but merely the workings of tools and weapons the Earthlings could not comprehend.


The extraterrestrials descended from the skies in chariots of gleaming metal and billowing clouds, or so the ancient stories say. Perhaps they manifested as fiery pillars guiding their chosen people, or took the shapes of fantastical creatures – winged horses hurtling through the heavens, or scaled dragons breathing fire and smoke.


Yet, as eons unfolded, shadows deepened within the hearts of earthlings. They fell prey to the ancient 'sins' – violence stained their hands, cruelty twisted their tongues, and chaos consumed their world. Dismay rippled through the higher caste; their creation was spiraling beyond control.


In a final, desperate act, an emissary was chosen – a beacon amidst the storm. Not from the shining realms above, but from the heart of Earth itself. A woman was selected, untouched and pure, and through a process shrouded in otherworldly mystery, she was impregnated. No mortal union could claim this child, for the seed of the emissary was born of starlight and cosmic will.


The emissary walked among earthlings, proof of his extraterrestrial lineage. He possessed fragments of their power, whispers of abilities that defied mortal understanding. With words of love and peace, he illuminated a path through the darkness. Compassion bloomed wherever his footsteps fell. Yet, doubt festered within the hearts of many. Fear eclipsed reason, casting the emissary as a threat, an aberration.


His destiny lay in betrayal and condemnation. Sentenced to a death designed to inflict maximum suffering, the emissary was crucified, his cries echoing into the uncaring sky. But the illusion of divinity, that last vestige of his creators' design, could not be so easily extinguished. In a final act, the higher caste 'resurrected' their emissary. Whether it was through the secrets of cloning, or some power beyond mammal comprehension, the emissary rose again.


A tremor of despair resonated through the celestial halls of the higher caste. Their emissary, a spark of their own essence sent to guide the fledgling race of Earth, lay extinguished. Disillusionment, a concept alien to their near-immortal existence, settled upon them like a cosmic dust cloud. Hope for Earth, their nascent experiment, flickered and died.


Whispers, carried on unseen stellar winds, filled the council chambers. The grand design, the meticulous sculpting of a species in their own image, had curdled into a grotesque parody. A chorus of murmurs, a symphony of disappointment, rose from the assembled beings. "Reset," the word resonated, a chilling pronouncement in the vast emptiness. Earth, their flawed creation, would be wiped clean, the slate meticulously scrubbed.


A shadow fell upon their moon base, a monument to their forgotten hubris. Here, cloaked in perpetual twilight, their military arm and bio-engineers toiled. Instruments of absolute annihilation thrummed with a malevolent energy, designed to purge the Earth of its infestation. Yet, hubris, a disease as old as time, infected even these outposts. Control, ever a fragile illusion, slipped through their grasp. The engineered plague, a ravenous hunger for life, turned on its creators.


A detonation, a cosmic sigh of finality, echoed across the desolate lunar landscape. The moon base, their instrument of destruction turned instrument of self-immolation, vanished in a blinding pyre. A desperate act of containment, a scorched-earth policy enacted to prevent the plague from consuming the cosmos itself. The stain of their failure, however, could not be so easily erased. They severed their connection, severed their ties. Earth, a monument to their miscalculation, would be left to spin in its lonely silence.


Nibiru, their ancestral home nestled within Zeta Reticuli, beckoned. There, they retreated, leaving behind a desolate graveyard of a moon and a world scarred by their intervention. But whispers persisted, tales carried on the backs of cosmic winds. Whispers of the lower caste, those who had sympathized with the doomed Earthlings, who now sought refuge in a world bathed in the same crimson glow of their fallen creators. A cautionary tale, a chilling echo in the vast emptiness – a story of the perils of creation, and the arrogance of believing oneself a god.


These extraterrestrials, veiled in the cosmic dust, have kept a silent vigil over Earth's cradle. Their ambassadors, both vessels of metal and mind, have slipped through the celestial folds on reconnaissance missions, their motives shrouded in the darkness of the interstellar void.


Awe and trepidation war within them as they witness the progress of Earthly civilizations. The fledgling ingenuity of mammalkind blossoms at an astonishing pace. Yet, a shadow falls upon this progress. The unearthing of nuclear fire and other instruments of mass devastation taints their marvel with a chilling foreboding.


The extraterrestrials stand divided. A faction yearns to unveil themselves, to greet their nascent kin and usher them into the grand congress of galactic civilizations. Others, haunted by the echoes of a primordial past, counsel caution. Memories, etched in the stardust, whisper of a time when these same primitive minds walked the Earth, their innocence tainted by a primordial violence.


Earth's path now treads a less belligerent course. The scars of conflict have softened, replaced by a nascent civility. This flickering flame of peace offers a sliver of hope, a tentative step towards redemption in the eyes of the unseen observers.


Beneath the veil of a billion whispered prayers, a billion dreams reaching for the heavens, a truth as vast and cold as the cosmos itself lies hidden. For millennia, mammality, in its naive infancy, has ascribed divinity to those who came from the stars. These visitors, cloaked in mystery and wielding technology beyond mammal comprehension, were mistaken for gods, their pronouncements etched in holy writ. But the divine spark they ignited was fueled not by benevolence, but by a deeper purpose, a grand design veiled in shadow.


Now, as mammality stumbles into the nascent light of the Space Age, a stirring awakens amongst those who observe from afar. Deep beneath the Antarctic ice sheet, where the wind whispers secrets unheard and the aurora dances with an alien luminescence, an unseen outpost hums with activity. From this hidden heart, the extraterrestrials observe, their motives shrouded in the same enigma that birthed mammality's religions. They see a fledgling civilization taking its first tentative steps beyond its cradle, a technological marvel compared to the primordial ooze from which it arose, but still a child playing with fire in the grand scheme of the cosmos.


Yet, within this momentous progress, the alien observers sense a spark, an echo of their own distant past. Perhaps, they whisper amongst themselves in languages that defy mammal comprehension, these Earthlings, these nascent gods-in-the-making, are destined to one day reunite with their creators. Will this reunion be a joyous homecoming, or a confrontation fraught with the weight of a forgotten past? Only time, a concept as alien to these cosmic voyagers as mammal emotion, will reveal the answer. But one thing is certain: the celestial stage is set, the curtain about to rise on a drama as grand and complex as the universe itself.