A quiet night in the peaceful countryside picturesque and romantic, delicate and adoring, a young couple familiarizes itself with the night sky through active stargazing and vigilant discernment.
When a gigantic meteor from deep within space suddenly lands nonchalantly nearby, a local woodsman out for a stroll in the vicinity taking a closer look.
At first everything seems fine it's just a rock harmless and nondescript, but after it cracks open a translucent goo gesticulates and wavers with distressing undulation.
The woodsman picks it up with a stick and then brings it to his hand for closer inspection, where it smothers his skin and absorbs his bones with greedy invasive absolutist hunger.
The young couple arrives to find him overwhelmed with pain and helpless frustration, they immediately agree to give him a ride to a local doctor who agrees to see him.
Back in town everything seems fine shenanigans alight - a dull even intensifies.
As the encumbering goo increasingly expands.
Aggressively digesting.
Every human it encounters.
It's clear that imminent space danger is posing a limitless unprecedented threat, and the grandiose resources of the entire world should be excessively deployed as a countermeasure.
A giant interconnected web of satellites should gallantly cloak the world complete, to boldly save our economic interests and definitively ensure that nothing gets through.
If North America, in consultation with the United Nations, comes up with the imposing ubiquitous design, aesthetically vetted by Québec, and humorously lampooned by Ontario, the effective blueprints should be ready in a fortnight, after which security will be impeccable.
Threats from space should only modestly take up around 3.5% of global budgets, and should we hunker down and buckle up there's no freakin' tellin' how much "ground" we'll cover.
I used to think the night sky was just a peaceful tranquil dome, effortlessly excelling at facilitating dreams and coordinating wise immaculate dominion.
But with the tangible threat of the enemy it casually obscures it must be tamed.
Like the frontier from The Last Starfighter.
Let's get 'er done!
Just in time for Christmas.
