When the Ousoon arrived, descending through the clouds in their impressive ships, we never saw the truth. Not at first. It was those Jovian freaks that saw them for what they were. I guess I shouldn't really call them freaks, they wound up being our saviours. They're just ... odd.

The first Jovian outposts were established in 2025. They were put in place to monitor the mining routes that humanity had begun using in its first off-world commercial endeavour. After the events on Mars, humanity exploded into the interstellar reaches. The Jovian planets' gasses became the primary elements of the large chemical rockets used in our foray to the stars. Those same gasses eventually became the mainstay of environmental systems from Ganymede to Lysithea. Those solitary, one person monitoring stations, were the birthplace of the Brethren. Seventy-two of those stations were setup, for one person each. The minimum commitment? Ten years.

The original program developers were gobsmacked at how many applications they received. They were further surprised by how many of those applicants actually passed the mental screening processes. I couldn't even begin to tell you what was in the minds of those applicants. I sure as hell wouldn't want to spend ten years of my life, hundreds of millions of miles from everything, living in a space no bigger than my first bachelor apartment.

Jovian Mining Corporation was the company that first went out to mine the gas giants and the ice giants. One department was placed in charge of the whole outpost program. The outposts weren't there to prevent interlopers from other companies, the outposts were there simply to ensure the various companies, taking their first steps into space, didn't crash into each other. They were outer space lighthouses, for want of a better term. Beacons, if you will, in more ways than one. Jovian Mining Corporation, Department 37, tried to make life as comfortable as possible for these people, though comfort was a tertiary consideration. When you are that far from home and depending on unproven technology, comfort isn't the first priority. The first priority is survival.

Pastor David, non-denominational, worked for Department 37. He spent most of his life dedicated to the outpost inhabitants. He talked to many of them every day, all of them at least once a week when he could. Using the ERB technology that the Eben had provided, before the events on Mars, made instantaneous communication possible with the outposts. However, it was affected by solar flares and such. Therefore it wasn't always available.

Pastor David always had spiritual advice readily on hand, but his degrees in psychology also allowed him to offer other mundane advice as well. He found that by the second year of the outpost inhabitants contract, it was the spiritual advice they wanted most of all. All but one of the seventy-two outpost inhabitants turned to religion, to aid them and soothe them in their solitary existence.

In 2035, the unthinkable happened. Seventy-one of the outpost inhabitants indicated their desire to "re-up" for another ten years. When asked why, they all responded, "Because we're not done yet."

What it was that they were not "done" with, was a mystery that none of them would answer. Given the cost of retrieving the people and delivering a replacement, Jovian Mining Corporation was happy to let them stay. Pastor David let his protests be known, but he didn't abandon his dispersed flock. He stuck with them through the easy times, the hard times, and the terrifying times.

He had always been vocal that the ten-year commitment was too long. However, he also knew it was the most fiscally responsible term of commitment by those selected. When the seventy-one said they didn't want to leave, he was concerned that their psychological make-up had been compromised by the isolation. Number seventy-two, Richard Collingswood of outpost #64, was not one of the ones that wanted to stay. He was chomping at the bit to return to Earth: it's food, it's booze, it's women, it's sunlight. Pastor David wound up with the unpleasant task of informing him that since none of the other outpost inhabitants wanted to return home, Jovian Mining was not going to pay the incredible cost of the planned operation to return just one outpost monitor. Richard had not developed the smiling sanguinity that the seventy-one had developed. Upon learning he was being forced into a second ten-year term, he took the only option he felt that he had available to him. Richard nodded once at Pastor David over the video feed. He then stood up, walked to the other side of the room, and entered a command system override in the airlock controller. He then opened both inner and then outer airlock doors; at the same time.

The seventy-one were able to communicate with each other, and they often did. They also spoke with friends and family when the ERB communication device was viable. However, Pastor David's real concern came when the men and women of the outposts all started having visions ... on the same day. The visions were dystopian in form, yet hopeful in the message. The visions disturbed the seventy-one more than anyone on Earth, so they decided they needed to delve even deeper into their spirituality. They all gave up the things that made them comfortable, the things that made them complacent. They adopted an ascetic lifestyle. They modified their food equipment to produce blandness, instead of spicy and exotic. They gave up all drink mixes, limiting themselves to re-purified water. They gave up their significant amount of personal time; applying those hours to either exercise, prayer or religious study. They blocked all entertainment system uploads except for those dealing with religion, spirituality, and God. They all made themselves available as mentors to those on Earth, the people that wanted to purify their lives of the three W's: weakness, wickedness, and wantonness.

Don't get me wrong, they didn't turn into religious freaks or zealots. They simply became -- inspiring. They never condemned anyone, they only guided them to realizing the wonderful sense of peace and calm available to those that were honest, in their faith and study of something, of Someone, bigger than they had ever experienced in their lives. They taught humanity, those of humanity willing to listen, unconditional love. The one thing that was noticed by all who dealt with the seventy-one was their serene nature. The level of calmness they displayed, in some very scary situations, became the stuff of legend. They dealt with harassment by the little prats from Epsilon Eridani, the ones unwelcome near Earth after the Mars uprising. They dealt with close calls by meteor strikes, radiation bursts from the sun, and system malfunctions. They spent eighteen months in full isolation after the massive prominence of 2047 temporarily shut down the entire ERB system. What was even more impressive, all of the seventy-one shared the same message, taught the same lessons, were of one mind. By the fifteenth year of their postings, those on Earth had come to call them, 'the Brethren'.

Twenty-seven years after they first arrived, the seventy-one were all still alive. Happy and healthy, they were on their third ten-year contract. The seventy-second monitor was on her second ten-year contract. She had very quickly come to live the lifestyle of the Brethren. Eight years into her first posting, she became one of the Brethren, her spiritual metamorphosis being complete. Nine years later, still the new kid on the block, the Brethren unanimously appointed Kalinda Beilke as their official spokesperson. In the last ten years, their dystopian visions had been increasing, in both intensity and clarity. They started to lose followers as they warned of doom and gloom coming from the stars. They decided to take a singular approach, having one person be their voice, to ensure the consistency of their hope and love for those on Earth, to ensure the consistency of their warning of something that was about to happen. One week after Kalinda's appointment, something did come from the stars.

It was a July day that the destruction of humanity began. The Ousoon arrived in their great ships, descending through blue skies, night skies, and stormy skies; depending on where you were. The world changed that day.

Human in appearance, the Ousoon quickly made it known they were coming as friends. They brought with them great treasures of science and medical technology. They cured many diseases, they cured cancer, they cured AIDS, they cured schizophrenia. The biggest contribution, according to some, was the cure for the common cold. The Ousoon provided new science for energy technology; making reliance on fossil fuels, nuclear power, and solar energy obsolete within three months. They also brought with them a profound new understanding of the law and how it applied to the everyman. The Ousoon were to law and legalism, what the Sadducee's were to the Torah.

With the guidance of the Ousoon, a requirement of their many great gifts, the laws of the countries on Earth were re-written under a one-law tenant. The Omnibus of Inspired Nationalized Knowledge became the de jure standard for the application of jurisprudence in all corners of the world. The Ousoon believed that only a properly structured, controlled, and policed world could thrive in the face of interstellar presence. They took great pride in illustrating examples from three inhabited worlds that they had brought their legal prowess to. They showed how those worlds were brought out of anarchy, to the enlightenment of normality. One of the cornerstones of their success, they repeatedly illustrated, was the application of that word: normality. What they didn't share were the stories of the seventeen worlds that had been almost destroyed when they rebelled against their new masters ... I mean, friends.

As part of their customization to Earth and it's sociology, someone eventually showed one of the Ousoon visitors an old copy of the movie, The Day The Earth Stood Still (the original version, not the Keanu Reeves remake). Not surprisingly, they were overjoyed with the film. In fact, the message it delivered became a cornerstone of their propaganda. They made the film a required material in all schools, in all grades, in all countries. Once a year, every child on the planet was required to watch the film and then write a report on the lessons learned, applied in the context of their present-day situations. They wanted everyone to recognize the power and beneficial aspects of everyone being ... the same. They very quietly had the Keanu Reeves version banned. Everywhere.

The Brethren, however, were not amused. Being so far from Earth, so removed from everyday life, they were immunized against the sway of the Ousoon by virtue of their isolation. They also had, due to the isolation, the ability to see the big picture. Having watched the Ousoon on Earth for five years; having watched the Ousoon legal reform; having watched the application of Ousoon ideals and standards, from afar; having been able to quietly take stock of the things they didn't see any more; the Brethren's spokesperson, Kalinda, needed to pose one single question to those on Earth.

The Ousoon had made the reception of off-planet transmissions illegal. This was, they said, an effort to insulate the humans of Earth from destructive outside influences; such as the Eridani or the Kuabatay. The Brethren worked closely with Pastor David, who was still allowed to communicate them for commercial reasons, to find the proper tech head that could help them. He did. Five years after the Ousoon arrived, bringing the joy and enlightenment of their particular brand of legalistic illumination, Kalinda of the Brethren was finally able to broadcast one single question to all of the people of planet Earth.

"Where have all the gay people gone?"