In defiance with silly little physics laws, you glide effortlessly through space at light speed. The world is a blur, and you a forced to perform a quick hand-brake turn as a patch of blue-green fuzz turns out to be a passing planet.
Your eye snaps into focus as it sees a ball, spinning and circling like a gyroscope on L.S.D. Streaks of white stud the surface as noxious fumes conspire to pollute the place.
You are intruiged.
You feel compelled to have a look.
The ball becomes a vast brown continent, the continent becomes a country - corruscating with light, the country becomes a city, and as you glide through the streets moving bags of flesh and blood and milk and water point and stare.
Each building houses many lives - take a peep through the windows.
One of these creatures - call them 'people' for want of a better word, is draped over a cuboid-shaped lump of synthetic fibres, staring at a flickering screen, pouring brown liquid and yellow food down his throat. He emits a yawn, stretches, and the long tubes covering his legs fall down.
What a waste.
You see two more creatures begin to engage in some king of bizzare ritual. Their mouths touch and the begin to slide to the floor, removing the coverings over their bodies. You have seen animals on your own world behave similarly(you never understod why, splitting in half was always good enough for you), but they never seemed to enjoy it before. Splitting in half was clearly more productive, no chance of transmission of disease. Pleasure wasn't a part of it, it was what you did to survive.
But it's their own choice.
You veer away from the towering building, a filing-cabinet of life and love, and soar towards another construction, all spires and domes and painted glass. The windows higher up avoid the inconvenience of seeing the creatures through a representation of themselves in garish pink, and you see a crowd of these things stare intently at a man in white coverings, raising his arms and preaching. Why? It achieves no ends and is a pack of rubbish, but it dawns on you. It is a way to cope with life, a way to forget about some of the other things these manic bodies do to their valuable planet.
You see more examples of this.
In a cluster of lower buildings a group of the animals attack one of different colour, leaving him as red pours forth and mingles with rain and mud.
One creature holds a fibrous tube to his mouth and inhales, helping to speed up the decline of his own self.
A smaller being sits, dying, inside a cardboard box as larger beings walk past, heads turned up high with expressions of disgust on their faces.
Chimneyed buildings billow forth smoke, and you realise that this is the cause of the poison you saw around the cloud.
You tire of this ridiculous place.
You sail away, vowing not to return unless it is to destroy it.