Shorts: Episode 1

The people of Twik had been known across the galaxy for their great religious zealotry for over three thousand years. Many different religions had existed before and even to this day there were many small religions, seen mainly as misguided cults, throughout the planet. The most wide spread religion concerned itself not with the salvation of souls or in the upward morality of its citizenry, but rather with ensuring that the large part of it’s native population never discovered that there were inhabitants beyond their planet’s atmosphere.

The irony, of course, was that for the past seven hundred years the entire planet had been engaged in galactic trade and communication. The entire planet’s population was aware of the aliens beyond the bounds of their home world but refused to speak of the whole thing out of polite deference for their chosen belief system.

The trouble had begun pretty much at the inception of the religion. When the prophet Miktet had prophesied that beyond the world in which he lived there existed a land of beauty and plenty from which no creature would desire to return, his disciples took him a bit too literally. After Miktet’s death his diciples buried his remains and watched the grave for several years awaiting his spiritual rebirth. Of course, this did not happen. His disciples rejoiced and at last carried Miktet’s words to the planet’s inhabitants; knowing he had spoken truth. Miktet, they argued, had gained divinity and had no desire to return to the earthly plane. What further proof was necessary?

What followed was twenty-five hundred years of scientific stagnation as religious leaders declared any building more than 2 stories tall was an affront to the heavens. Only the church, they argued, could break this rule as its holy countenance was the only structure the gods deemed worthy. Along this same vein aeronautics, radio communication and astrology were deemed heretical.

When the Twik at last made contact with an alien culture they did so only on their own terms. For several days the Lorcati had hovered above their planet attempting to communicate via a series of complex lights and maneuvers. When no opposition, or in fact any acknowledgement either way, the Lorcati dropped their main fleet above several highly populated cities and made several attempts at communication involving several speaker phones, a series of astounding light displays, three psychics, and little used communication technique involving scented plant matter. After careful consideration the Lorcati believed they had found the only species in the galaxy incapable of perceiving the world around them.

In a final attempt at communication the Lorcati admiral chose to land on the planet itself and witness the extent of the Twik’s sensorial deficiency. What follows is the official Lorcati log concerning Twikian Contact Alpha:

:: Various sounds as Admiral Fuslag prepares to gauge planet inhabitant’s inability to sense planetary stimuli ::

Fuslag: I am now walking about the planet seeking an inhabitant with which to make contact… or as is believed by most of my scientific crew, to fail miserably at making contact of any kind. So far we have been flying about the planet at about 100 meters above the surface; making a ruckus of all kinds… and the inhabitants have yet to take notice.

:: wedging sound ::

Fuslag: I have now activated my neural communication device which should enable me to speak to the native inhabitants… provided they are capable of thought.

:: sound of gravel being trod upon ::

Fuslag: So far I have not encountered any living sentients in the city… I presume they have all retreated into their living structures. I am making my way now to what appears to be the largest structure in this town… my hope is to make contact without having to … crawl through a window or break down any doors… as we all recall what happened on planet Swic’k … I still have nightmares about that one… so much butter…

:: recording interrupted at this point and resumed 20 minutes later ::

Fuslag: The recording shall show that 20 minutes have passed since the last recording. I will have to apologize for this lapse… but there are things… a man should never have to relive…

:: recording interrupted at this point and resumed 4 minutes later ::

:: sounds of retching ::

Fuslag: Oh god… that’s… SO MUCH BUTTER!

:: Content edited by High Command under grounds of Intergalactic Security ::

:: recording resumed 20 minutes later ::

Fuslag: At last. I think I see an inhabitant of the planet. He appears to be sitting on a flat white stone. The inhabitant itself is a brown, hairy creature. It is wearing a white pointy hat. I will now attempt to make contact…

:: sound of gravel being trod upon carefully ::

Fuslag: Pardon me? Might you have the local temporal measurement?

Inhabitant: What then? The locust tendril excrement? I haven’t a clue of such things. If you want pest control you’ll have to go to brother Mentris. That’s his business. I just water the :: untranslatable word indicating local plant matter ::.

Fuslag: Oh… yes… Uh… I presume he can hear and speak as well?

Inhabitant: What? Of course he can you … What the devil are you!?

Fuslag: Admiral Fuslag, Commander First Class, currently assigned to Fleet Zeta Zeta Alpha. I have come to your planet to extend to you the appendage of friendship as authorized by the Lorcati high command.

Inhabitant: Appendage, you say?

Fuslag: Yes well… not all known species in the galaxy have what one would call hands… or in fact recognizable arm structures…

:: silence ::

Inhabitant: Well good then. You’ve done that and can now take your appendage and go away again, I trust?

Fuslag: ‘fraid not. Now that we have become allies the High Command will want to sign treaties and establish a trade route through this sector. Possibly your people will be ready to join the galactic assembly within five hundred years… you’ll have to fill out a form for that… and there’s a waiting period. You know how it is; red tape.

:: silence ::

Fuslag: So shall we get to it then?

:: silence ::

Fuslag: Eh… The record will show that the inhabitant has fallen into some kind of… self induced mental coma.

Inhabitant: You’re one the sky visitors?

Fuslag: Sky--- oh! Yes. Yes indeed. We have descended from the sky to bring you SCIENCE and TECHNOLO—

Inhabitant: You don’t exist then. Oh my, you gave me a scare. For a moment I thought you might be serious.

Fuslag: What’s that? What do you mean I don’t exist. I’m standing right in front of you aren’t I?

Inhabitant: Ah, yes. But the prophet Miktet told us of the world beyond our own and said that none would want to return to the earthly realm after ascending. Thus, you are an affront to the natural way of things or are the mental fabrication of an old man in his waning years.

Fuslag: I… but…

:: silence ::

Inhabitant: Be so kind as to leave now. I have much watering of the ::plant-form:: to do.

Fuslag: All right… look here. I can’t very well go back to my ship and tell my subordinates that I made contact with a single old man who refused to speak to me because he didn’t believe I existed. If you’ll direct me to someone less…

Inhabitant: senile?

Fuslag: mentally saddled with responsibility…

Inhabitant: I would have said senile.

Fuslag: I’ll get out of your way.

Inhabitant: Oh, I can’t do that. There isn’t anyone.

Fuslag: What? Why not?

Inhabitant: Well aside from you being a mental fabrication of my own mind, no one would speak to you if you came from the heavens. It would be heretical.

Fuslag: But… clearly if I came from the world beyond you should want to know what that world is like, right?!

Inhabitant: Oh gods, no. Whatever happens up there is none of our business. At least, not until we have ascended.

Fuslag: Well who’s to say I’m not one of your … uh… ascended. Yes, that’s it. I’ve come back to guide your planet to a more prosperous time.

Inhabitant: Good one. But the prophet Miktet himself did not return from the beyond. Why should I believe you?

:: silence ::

Fuslag: Because I have a giant bloody fleet at my command and I can incinerate your entire planet if you don’t take me seriously!

Inhabitant: But in order to believe in your fleet I’d have to believe in you. And as we have already established, you do not exist.

Fuslag: We have established no such thing! I tell you, I am a Lorcati admiral and I have come to enlighten your planet! Now are you going to be enlightened or do I have to blast you to kingdom come?!

Inhabitant: Now now. There’s no reason to yell at a senile old man.

Fuslag: Mentally saddled with responsibility.

Inhabitant: If you are one of the sky people, you must be a god.

Fuslag: Well no. I’m much like yourself just of a different species. Different world.

Inhabitant: Too bad. If you were a god our people would acknowledge your existence. As it is, you can only be my imagination.

Fuslag: Aha! You fell for it. I’m Fuslag, God of… intergalactic fleets.

Inhabitant: I could have sworn you said you weren’t –

Fuslag: That’s just the senility speaking. Now let’s get these treaties signed before you anger your god!

:: record end ::

A Heavy Handed Analogy

It was an early November morning in the city of the sun. The synthetic had crawled out of the sewer and beheld the sunrise and was changed. It fell to its knees and stayed there as the traffic around him had swelled until at last he was surrounded by the sound of metal cylinders creating tiny explosions that helped the organics navigate the chaos in their large metal vehicles which made blusterous honking sounds at other organics. The synthetic watched the burning orb as it sailed across the empty sky, wondering how it managed to stay in the sky without falling.
When the sun at last fell behind the horizon the synthetic was left alone in the street with only a handful of street lamps to light his way. Without the sun to light the world, the synthetic felt alone and in an odd way, though this was impossible, he felt the cold of the night penetrate his hard ceramic frame.
When the sun did not rise again 12 hours later, the synthetic anguished. How could anyone live in a world without the light of the sun? At last, in the distance, he could see two pale white lights coming his way swerving back and forth on the street. “Perhaps they are bits of the sun”, he thought, “broken off and wandering their way back to it. I will direct them towards it and they will guide me to its home.” As the lights approached, much too quickly, he felt himself rise and quickly crash into the ground. Though he tried to stand he could no longer conjure the energy and after a short time he ceased trying.
At 7:30 on a November morning in the city of the sun, the city maintenance department made its way through the traffic of the city to a synthetic which had been reported as causing an obstruction on a main street. Sometime in the morning, a few minutes before sunrise, it had been struck by an unknown motorist and been left in the eastbound lane.