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This is where we are. We see the fields around us, brown and dry, and recall the prophecy: "Thirteen brown and white rabbits shall pass before your eyes, and then the lights will dim". Already the eleventh rabbit has made its way down the cold steel ramp, while the Onlookers peer out from the massive ship's portholes. We shudder in the cold of the dawn, all of us standing back, frightened and bewildered. Some among us whisper, "where is he?" while others frown and say that he will never come. Why should he? Isn't he safe and warm and bathing in the light of his home world. Didn't he already try and do his best? And how did we reward him, aside from all that money, and the coupons? I can see the twelfth rabbit now, edging towards the outer flap. Our time is running out. But wait. That rabbit isn't brown or white! That's a black rabbit for sure. The prophecy didn't say anything about a black rabbit! Is there hope after all? What? Check the fine print? Hold on a sec ...
