A rabbit, running through its meadow, is shot by them and dies in that instant, falling to its side, front feet crossed as if in prayer. They wait, watching for its soul to rise, or for its resurrection, or for someone or something to come and eat it. Nothing more happens. They shoot it again. Nothing happens again. Stage one is inconclusive.
They buy a rabbit made of stone and place it in a room with a live rabbit, caught not far from the meadow of the shooting. They make comparisons; try to understand why one might be preferred over the other. Both rabbits adapt quickly to the new environment, especially the stone one. That, for them, is merely a side note. At one point, 00:14:53.271, the live rabbit imitates the posture of the stone rabbit, but the moment does not last. They make frantic asterisks, await the same occurrence to repeat, but it does not. They keep the stone rabbit and release the live one. They shoot the stone rabbit. Stage two is inconclusive.
They buy another stone rabbit. They place it on a balcony – a sort of outside place which is attached to the inside of a dwelling. The humans seem particularly fond of these spaces, sacred realms perhaps. They leave the stone rabbit alone; they do not even watch it.
They spend the next week slaughtering the entire human population of one island attempting, perhaps, to establish that curious emotion which has, so far, evaded them. It does not come. They feel only sadness, as is their manner.
They return to the stone rabbit before departure to find a little green shoot has grown through a crack in the balcony floor, defiant and bright. They rejoice a while, they dance, they feel a brief joy again, but they cannot understand it. They question the stone rabbit, receive no answers. Stage three is inconclusive.
Later, however, they decide against a global invasion and return instead to their homes.