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A note containing the following is found etched into in a partially eroded, but otherwise well-preserved whiskey bottle:

2708 was a fateful year. A virus was created, mainly to stop alien minority. Sadly it turned on the human race killing 4 billion humans. 12 million survived (though if this is not correct the others were infected). The remaining humans made England their secret camp and all went there (though 800 of the surviviors lived there already).

... Except this note.

... and you, I guess, because you're reading it.

... and I'll bet you didn't just appear here. You probably brought, I dunno, 
a spaceship or something.

Still, humans aren't around. If you were hoping to come and catch a 
movie, or see some celebrities, you're out of luck.  Unless you
can find some old DVD lying around or buried somewhere.  There's
really not a lot to see, now. Just animals and plants.  And 
not so many of them anymore.  Cockroaches, but they survive just
about anything.  I dunno, maybe that's what you're into. ...[undecipherable]...
happened in the year 2453.  But even decades later, no one really understood why.

We had a good run.  Pyramids, democracy, epic poetry, religion,
quantum mechanics, Beatles, hybrid hovercraft cities, the
Shimonoshikura craze.  The Roman Empire, ancient and modern
Chinese dynasties, the Cold War, overpopulation, underpopulation, 
industrialism, communism, impressionism, Confucism,
post-post-postmodern-existentialism.  The sexual revolutions, orgasm donors,
out-of-body sex, yeah we had it all, man...but we let it disappear.

Go home.  Tell your species.  Don't let it happen to you.