The people walked down to the ocean shore and stared. They were mesmerised by the water, though none could fully say why. They had come from all over the world to the shores of their respective continents, drawn by some unheard calling. That was all they knew. Somehow the ocean was calling them forward, calling them to itself, and they were powerless to resist. They all stood there, feet wet in the lapping water, gazing with blank faces out to the horizon. Who knew what they saw there? Perhaps the movement of tides and currents, perhaps the very biosphere of all marine life, or maybe it was just the hypnotic rolling, rolling of the endless waves. Whatever the cause, they stood transfixed for a day and a night, then began to drop what they had carried there. Artifacts of humanity - toasters, lawn chairs, books, hair dryers, all the daily accessories of being human, and then suddenly they were free of the mesmerising gaze. Glancing at each other with slight embarrassment, they all turned and went home, allowing the waves to take their prizes out into the deep.
And somewhere out there, under the water, the Watcher gathered the pieces of discarded humanity to study them. In one day he accumulated a vast museum of humankind, to be preserved and to return with him to the stars, in case this world should ever be lost like so many others.
Mokalus of Borg
PS - Obviously inspired by staying on the beach this week.
PPS - Please let me know what you think in the comments.