As the wild waves of Boston Harbor crash into the city’s rocky coast, they bring with them a dark omen of impending annihilation. But from where does this sense of doom originate? I can’t imagine you haven’t noticed the gargantuan can of beans, looming 75 stories tall over the crud-encrusted jewel of the commonwealth we call home. It blotted out the sun, casting a long shadow of dread over all who looked upon its presence. Many have been left to wonder what this could mean for humanity.
It’s been approximately a week since the government’s nuclear bomb testing three miles off the coast of Spectacle Island caused this can-shaped vessel to breach the surface of its watery tomb. Since then, local, national and world leaders have scrambled for an explanation. On Nov. 8, an assortment of political heavyweights converged at the John F. Kennedy Library to observe this bean-based behemoth for themselves. These esteemed individuals included United States President Joe Biden, Boston Mayor Michelle Wu; King Charles III of England and UMass Boston Chancellor Marcelo Suárez-Orozco.
Ironically, just a few months prior, there were plans to convert the library into the first-ever Boston Bean Museum. Since this plan had fallen to the wayside, many have accused the group behind the museum’s proposal, Beanlievers Anonymous, of having something to do with the situation in the harbor.
“The mere notion of that is absolutely preposterous!” Says Beatrice Garbanzo, president of the organization. “Yet another sad attempt by the mainstream media to paint us as fanatical radicals who place their faith in false science. Let me ask you this. If notions such as Cannellini’s Beanosaur, the mirrored bean phenomenon and bean history theory were false, would I believe them? Do you really think I’d believe in something that wasn’t true?”
For those who may need a quick refresher, bean history theory refers to the belief that before our civilization of humans existed on Earth, a race of sentient beans was the dominant form of life. To go further, the mirrored bean phenomenon states that the Bean civilization was an exact replica of our own down to the smallest of details. History played out the same way and every human had a bean counterpart. Naturally, the majority of credible scientists have derided this concept as insane, but now, as an ancient canister of beans towers high over Boston’s tallest skyscrapers, some people have warmed to the Beanliever’s views.
“Hello, Americans.” President Biden’s voice boomed from behind his podium. The bean can sat ominously on the horizon as Biden launched into a speech to reassure the nation that everything was under control.
“It is in times of trouble that we must come together. When I find myself in times of trouble, my mother, Mary, comes to me, and she whispers words of wisdom. I know beans, I know beans very well. When I was a boy, I worked in a bean factory. It wasn’t much, but it was work. The worst part about the job was all the bean slime that got all over my hands and feet. That made using the bathroom pretty dang hard, oh, you better believe it. All that bean slime all over everything. Couldn’t pull my own dang pants down.”
Before President Biden could get to what one could only assume was “the good part,” a ferocious rumbling sounded from the ocean. All eyes turned to the giant can as a small door opened in its upper portion. Much to the shock of the onlookers, a small figure appeared in the doorway: a bean.
The bean was bald, dressed in some sort of sophisticated space suit. An ear-piercing squeal of audio feedback sounded from an array of unseeable speakers as the small bean man tapped on a microphone. One of the President’s security officers turned to him and whispered, “Mr. President, Sir. Should we blast this motherf—er to smithereens?”
President Biden’s gaze was fixed on the bean. “No,” he said. “I want to see what he has to say.”
“Relinquish your rage, for you know not what you do!” The bean’s voice reverberated throughout the entirety of Boston. “My name is Bean Bezos, and I am a traveler from a distant past. My own civilization was doomed to be destroyed, so I did the noble thing of preserving myself for millennia so that I might warn our successors against meeting our same fate.”
Bean Bezos then went in to explain how the mirrored bean phenomenon is correct, and how, shortly before entering his eternal slumber for the good of all life on Earth, Beankind discovered the existence of a species of life before them, a group they referred to as “The Lightbringers.” They had even been visited by one of these “Lightbringers” who warned them of their own impending annihilation. But according to the bean traveler, his own people didn’t heed the Lightbringer’s warning, sealing their fate.
“In order to ensure your survival, you must lay down your arms. You must give up the desperate pursuit of things like power and money for they keep you bound to the corporeal realm. I regret… I regret so many things about how I spent my time amongst my people. Please, you do not have much time left before the fruits of your hatred rot into inescapable demons in the night. You must make love, not… war.”
The President turned to his chief security officer and said under his breath, “Um, yeah… I don’t like that.” The officer nodded. Within a moment, a vast assortment of every weapon of mass destruction imaginable appeared out of thin air, surrounding Bean Bezos and his bean ship. The bean man looked at the humans with sadness.
“They say that history must always be set to repeat itself,” spoke Bezos solemnly. “I don’t believe that to be true. I can’t believe that to be true! Please, I beg you, for the good of sentient life, lay down your…”
Bean Bezos halted his plea, noticing someone in the crowd that baffled him. “No! How are you…”
The bean didn’t get a chance to finish his thought before the powers of the United States military rained down upon him with the fiery fury of Hell itself. The harbor waters were nearly parted like the Red Sea due to the constant stream of heavy artillery. Nuclear missiles struck the can of beans continuously, blanketing everything within a 20-mile radius in deadly radiation. A few local homeowners were even seen in their yards lobbing hand grenades into the sea, striking nowhere remotely close to the bean canister, but trying valiantly nonetheless.
The aluminum can was obliterated within mere seconds, but the assault continued for five minutes, showing the ocean who’s boss in a gross display of America’s military prowess. When everybody finally ran out of ammunition, the President looked to those around him with a proud smirk and declared, “That was bada—.” The crowd erupted into applause, agreeing with their leader. Even UMass Boston mascot Bobby Beacon, who had been watching the entire event unfold from the roof of UHall with a bowl of popcorn and, for some reason, 3D glasses, rejoiced over the destruction of the bean.
In the wake of the bean can fiasco, the United States government issued a statement praising the military for its decisive actions in defending our great nation from the unknown threat posed by intelligent, bean-based life. Chancellor Suárez-Orozco also issued a statement recommending that students avoid the Harborwalk—or campus itself, for that matter—until the radiation clears within the next 20,000 years or so.
Due to the revelation that Beanlievers Anonymous were right about bean history theory, the people of Earth have begun discussing ways to avoid meeting the same terrible fate that brought down the ancient Beanpire of the past. One such human is none other than Amazon’s executive chairman, Jeff Bezos, who has already begun work on what appears to be some kind of cryogenic freezing pod. While some have expressed confusion over how Bezos plans on freezing the entirety of humanity to escape whatever cataclysm faces us, a recent leak of the pod’s schematics shows that it is only designed to house one individual. I guess history will repeat itself, after all.