Perspective

It was one of those sweet, summery nights, the last of the season, in which you can still sit outside your home and watch the starlit night. And so we were, my friend and me, sitting outside and enjoying a drink. For a while, we were quiet, just looking at the moon and the zodiac overhead.
'Don't you ever wonder?' my friend said.
'Wonder what?'
'Whether they really exist. You know', he said, 'aliens.'
'Get real. Of course not. If they were out there, wouldn't we have heard of them?'
'I don't know, maybe they're as advanced as we are. We haven't been further than the moon, but we still have a long way to go.'
'Maybe, maybe. I'm not prepared to believe in beings from other worlds without concrete proof. It's a typical case of wishful thinking.'
'Then you have a very limited perspective. There's billions of stars out there. Don't you think it's amazingly unlikely that we're all alone in the universe?'
I shrugged. 'No, I don't. Evolution of intelligent beings is exceptionally rare. And who knows how few stars have planets… or how few of such planets are inhabitable.'
'Living organisms are extremely tough. Some can survive even in outer space.'
'My friend,' I said, 'I think you've drunk too much. Let's go inside.'
And slapping my slime-covered tentacle on his squishy head, I supported him as we went inside our sleeping pod, leaving the dark blue desert behind us.