Author's note: Yes, I know I still haven't finished any of my other Fanfics, but this idea popped into my head, and I couldn't ignore it. Though, this one might be a bit easier, since I have the original book to guide me.

Disclaimer: I don't own H.G. Well's War of the Worlds. Or any wars for that matter. And no, I don't own the Worlds. Or H.G. Wells. Or... anything, really... (-Awkward silence-)... ANYWAY! Please read and review.

No one would have believed in the last years of the twenty-ninth century that man's great, near immortal intelligence was reduced to keenly watching a different world. We studied as they went about their business, scrutinizing them. Perhaps the way we had studied microbes in a drop of water a thousand years ago.

Man had gone to and fro across the globe in its affairs, assured that it's empire over the Terran-Earth nature. Terrestrial men had built machines, factories, vehicles and plants to satisfy their increasing greed. No terrestrial man needed to fancy upon himself what the inferior men from Mars would be like, or if we ever needed to face them. Yet across the gulfs of space, there was an evolving planet. Although our minds to theirs are like the mind of an animal to a plant, it was undeniable that they were, indeed, intelligent. We soon began to watch Mars with envious eyes, and slowly and surely, we drew our plans against them.

The planet of Terran-Earth revolves around the sun over 225,000,000 kilometers closer than the planet Mars, and receives over double the light and heat energy than their world. Although it is proven for Mars to be older than Terran-Earth, and has but 30% of Terran-Earth's surface area, resulting in a faster cooling of the planet. The Martian world would have, therefore, had longer to sustain animated life than Terran-Earth, yet ironically, has also a slower rate of evolution.

Yet man had been vain, believing that Terran-Earth could survive forever longer than its neighbors, and terrestrial man acted as he pleased. His factories spewed out steam and burnt fuel, his plants produced electricity and light, and his machines repeatedly heated up Terran-Earth's already warming biosphere. By the late twenty-ninth century, terrestrial man was reduced to relying on his technology and science to meet even the bare minimums of sustaining life.

The man of the late second millennia was no longer recognizable to those of the last millennia. It is with deep remorse that I must admit that terrestrial man can no longer be considered under the species of Homosapiens, nor could it be considered 'human'. We have become as alien to our ancestors as the Martians, or as man were to the apes and gorillas before them.

But before we are judged too harshly by the twenty-first century reader, please remember that you, as our precursors, had forced our options onto us. We had little choice but to follow the path that you had set out for us. It was the twenty-first century that saw a major expansion in the crisis of the Terran-Global warming phase, and we were merely the result of humanity's vanity and self-assurance that Terran-Earth would survive as long as humanity. Although, in a sense, humankind was correct that humankind no longer existed when the Terran-Earth was uninhabitable, their offspring species of man was left with a dying world.

We then set off on plans to emigrate to the neighboring planet of Mars, and calculated every detail with mathematical learning multiple exponentials more advanced than our precursors. We had gathered what scarce resources we had throughout the entire twenty-ninth century in such a way that our artificial satellites could easily detect every movement of both Terran-Earth, and of Mars.

The goal of survival of terrestrial man had become the sole purpose of all its industries. All sense of moral restriction had been lost midway through the second millennium, and plans had been drawn to occupy Mars through military force (which was ironic, considering the original concept that Mars was the star of war).

On a date no longer recorded in terrestrial history (as the record of time had gradually become lost in man's pursuit for permanent survival), the first of the space rockets fired off from its platform, visible from even the Martian planet as a huge eruption of fire.

The Martians would have seen the flash of the rocket ship firing off at their equivalent of midnight. Nearly a full Martian day later, another flash could be seen from Mars. The daily firing of rocket ships repeated for a few days, before it was halted. The reason that we did not fire more was to preserve our resources, in case the operation was to fail. It was, perhaps, a good thing that we had done so.

I was, at the time, placed in charge of information transition between the Terran-Earth's highest minds and the small unit of the invasion force. I quickly had my psionic uplink reconfigured, and had become connected to the various satellites and rockets targeting the red planet. It was amazing how much our arrogance convinced us that the operation would be most definitely successful.

I studied the Martian men scampering along over their petty concerns, knowing little of the impeding invasion from their sunward neighbor, feeling peaceful and tranquil in their lifestyle as they lived. The start of the thirtieth century AD brought an end to their disillusions of safety.