All hang together

This year's fireworks were aliens.

They came like a sudden Voice, a presence on a rooftop speaking in harshly in command:



Or like the airiest of viruses:



They came in disguise as Earth scientists, in Einstein's wig:



As a Whistler:



Or as chimneysweepers, gold, then come to dust:



They floated, like galactic jellyfish:



Or crawled like the Thing from the Crab Nebula, by way of Innsmouth:



The whole effect was eerily apocalyptic, like an Edward Hopper dystopia:



Nine