Challenge #03081-H173: Assisted Retirement

She was middle aged, approaching her 50’s, her lower back hurt so bad she could barely move. Working in those damn factories for so long, ever since she was orphaned when the last big fire that swept through the city killed hers and so many others’ families, had broken her. Then they came. It was late in the night, she’d gathered a huge amount of old, scrap, cloth stolen out of dumpsters and did her best to make it comfortable for her to lay. When she awoke, she was being carried silently on a liter between two strong…. what were they? They certainly didn’t appear human, though the live-suits made it hard to tell. She saw others, like her, broken, in pain, barely moving, also being carried in a stream heading to a large, dark, ship. She opened her eyes and asked, in a fearful tone, “Are they getting rid of me?” The ones carrying her said in but a whisper, lest the patrols hear, “We’re here to save you.” – Anon Guest

A body in motion must stay in motion. Time to lean? Time to clean. Keep the workflow up, meet quota, match goals… or enter forced retirement. Glyss had once worked a lever in the Forced Retirement department - back before the Executives decided it was bad for bottom line, and automated the entire process. Nevertheless, rumour continued as to what Forced Retirement was.

They had ways of wringing every last speck of value out of their workforce. Organs, marrow, blood and bone… it didn’t matter. As long as the expense of your upkeep was justified, the Executives wouldn’t decide to liquidate the entire facility. She’d seen one, once. That was one too many.

Glyss worked until she creaked. Worked until it hurt. Both of those were happening earlier and earlier now that she had hit the age of impending redundancy. She was almost fifty. Some workers were lucky to keep going until they were sixty. Whispers held that one had been maintained until sixty five. Glyss knew it was the friend-of-a-friend thing that maintained other nonsenses. Rubbish like certain stims making a person believe they were an orange, and feared being squeezed[1]. They were told, talked about, but never seen.

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(Source: peakd.com)

Challenge #03080-H172: Defeating Monsters

There was a sign on the door. It read “Warning! Deathworlder story time! Humans inside!” Faintly, through the budget soundproofing, a cogniscent with good hearing could make out the wailing cry of an alarmed human larva. One with even better hearing would be able to make out the voices of other young humans, saying “It’s OK, it’s OK, it’s not real, it’s just a story. Right, Miss? It’s not real, right???” – Anon Guest

Fairy tales do not exist to tell children that monsters are real, they say. Fairy tales exist to tell children that monsters can be defeated. That acknowledged, there are some who are unprepared for the finer details. Precautions are always taken, by necessity. Warnings for the literate. Pictograms for the less literate. Hazard stripes[1] for those who fail to pay attention to words or pictures.

Those who feel brave enough, prepared enough, or simply curious enough are welcomed, warned, and permitted to sit with the others. Most of them are under five. A few are a little too enthusiastic for their own good. The storyteller is on an elevated seat, gesturing as the words flow from mouth to listening ears. Offensensitivity shields stand between the room and an observer just outside the door. Unfortunately for Dyw, that shielding was the budget variety that was not as effective as it should have been.

“Strength was most important for the leader of the peoples, even though it had taken him many years to reach the seat of power and strength was fading from his limbs,” said the storyteller. “So it came to be that the appearance of strength was as important as actually being strong. They used chemicals to put colour in his hair, and more chemicals to add colour to his face. They used clever speakers to interpret his ramblings, and always, he had to maintain a show of moral strength. That meant beating down on those judged as immoral, and enacting harsh punishments for the unlucky–” they stopped as one of the children burst into tears.

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(Source: peakd.com)

Challenge #03074-H166: Homo Insula

Libertarian “paradise” world found by the Alliance. Probably called “Freedom” or something similar. – Anon Guest

Imagine a world where there is no need for government or law, because the only rule is that of righteous morality. Laws come from God, as was intended by the Good Word. All that is right is moral and all that is moral is right. It’s all about the fundamental rights of man.

Everyone else can suck it.

The strong rule the weak. It’s the way things have to be because that’s the only way the strong can become stronger. For the greater good of the next generation, so they can be even stronger. Those who have the right smarts, the right morals, and the right amount of motivation can get ahead, and anyone left out of that group gets what they deserve.

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(Source: peakd.com)

Challenge #02987-H064: Unwelcome Advancements

[H] “Hold still, we’re going to try this again.”

[galactic volunteer] “It won’t knock me out like last time?”

[H] “Nope, bugs are worked out, we tested on other humans first for a reason after all, that knock-out was accidental, sorry about that.”

[galactic volunteer] “Alright, I’m ready.”

The human throws the small metal disk which adheres to the galactic and, suddenly, they can’t move. They can breathe, see, hear, they are not being hurt, but they can’t, otherwise, move.

[galactic] “Well… it works, take it off now please.”

[human] “Thank you very much for your help, I’m grateful.” They remove the disk and transfer time to their volunteer’s account before heading straight to medical

[galactic] “Why did you make that?”

[Human] “The more we go after bad guys, the more people end up dying in the fight. The more we can stop bad guys without killing, the happier I’ll be.” – DaniAndShali

All high-octane policing has one significant problem - collateral damage. Even with stunner fire, a miss can create problems. Worse, many stunners need calibration to be sure that the target species is safely knocked out, without harming any others. Since many offenders are Deathworlders, this means that any Havenworlders caught in the crossfire could die. They needed a better way that wasn’t controlled exclusively by a keen eye and a steady hand.

Which was the key to the body lock disk. A specific charge, some micro-scanners, and a very specific program involving species specific neurology and nanomachines to seek out and disrupt certain key areas. Upon contact, the disk released a series of seeker drones that spun nano-wires into the prospective victim’s nervous system. It would scan the one struck, and render them immobile without also ceasing autonomic functions.

Those struck by it would be stopped, without it being terminal. From Havenworlder to Deathworlder, any fleeing miscreant would not be able to escape justice. Of course, they tested it from Deathworlder to Havenworlder, in that specific order, with Mediks on standby in case anything went wrong. It didn’t.

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(Source: peakd.com)

Challenge #02955-H032: We, the Undersigned…

The Dereggers gave up their trash planet, a toxic hell-hole that would’ve cost them a fortune to clean up. They signed an iron-clad contract that had every single i dotted and t crossed. Not so much as a gnat-sized loophole anywhere. And it was signed by their leaders and several leaders from the Galactic Alliance as witnesses, and him, of course.

He took all that was there and made enough time to make himself an insanely wealthy man. Wealth he then turned around and invested, instead of hoarding it, using it to terraform a toxic dump into a paradise. The poisons removed, the debris, gone, the air and water as pure as if the planet was newly discovered. The planet had been turned into a world even the weakest havenworlders would find beautiful and humans would think was nearly heaven.

However, now the De-Regger leadership was pissed. They demanded a change in the deal, but it was too late. But as he decided to give these angry men an object lesson, could they learn, or would they continue to scream foul? Still….. it did feel good to see the looks on their faces when they landed on the paradise that was their former trash planet, confronted with the fact they didn’t own it anymore.

A sequel to this gem:

https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-02883-g326-learn-something-guys – DaniAndShali

Some phrases have a special magic. Ask, “What’s the worst that can happen?” merely invites a better demonstration of the worst that could possibly happen. So does, “It can’t get any worse,” because of course it can. “That was mine,” is one guaranteed to stiffen the spine of any given Deregger CEO or Executive Administrator to draw breath. So, too, is, “It’s making a profit now.”

Dereggers have very rigid standards. Pull yourself up by the bootstraps, work harder, appear strong, appear virtuous, and never take a loss. So long as the money floweth towards a CEO, then they are doing the will of their deity. No matter what the unread texts might have to say about it[1]. The mere concept of rubbish being turned into profit flies in the face of everything they believe in[2].

So, when a known refuse world and money sink was given in lieu of payment to a Galactic, the CEO’s of Greater Deregulation Lower North congratulated themselves on their own wit and trade genius. They were less happy when they learned that the Galactic in question was making a profit they had missed out on. That, in their mind, was a heinous insult. So they did what any Deregger would do. They tried to sue.

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(Source: peakd.com)

Challenge #02946-H023: A Trail a Mile Wide

There were marks on the walls, on the low ceilings in the halls. A picture here, a quick search there, showed that they were the marks left by unprotected human feet. Feet too small to belong to adult humans. While this narrowed the suspects down to two, it also raised the questions of “how did they do it?” and “do I really want to know?” – Anon Guest

In all the known universe, there is little more devastating to an environment than Deathworlder children on a bender. Humans, especially, were notorious. Simple sugars, safe for many Havenworlders, set Human brains metaphorically on fire. Young Humans even more so. This was a small factoid that P'gaff and Thol Party Tours had forgotten, and that the superbly wealthy Deregger failed to pass along.

Thirty unsupervised Human children and a party menu overloaded with simple sugars, and nature had taken its course. The wreckage had rendered the party barge next to uninhabitable. It wasn’t entirely unsalvagable. If all other measures failed, they could trade in what remained for mass credit.

It might be easier to disassemble and re-print the entire vessel, cashing in the excess materials as there would definitely be leftovers. Flum’s job was assessing the cost of each potential solution. Which included the assessment of the Scene, which truly deserved the capital.

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist. Or visit peakd (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

Challenge #02946-H023: A Trail a Mile Wide | PeakD

Challenge #02923-G366: Bad at Risk Assessment

“And what brings you to medical, human?”

“I took my particle mask off when I should have left it on. That was, uh, five days ago? I’m pretty sure I’ve coughed up all the stuff I inhaled, since the phlegm isn’t pointy any more, but I’m still coughing, and my lungs itch. I would have waited longer to bother you about it, but I’ve been kinda short of breath today, so I thought I’d come in before it got any worse.” – Anon Guest

Humans are terrible at following essential safety rules, even when it calls for their own safety. Survivors and escapees of Greater Deregulations even more so. Those desperate enough to escape Deregger space were obsessed with not being a bother on pain of being thrown back to the maelstrom from whence they sprang.

Medik Phrak concentrated on staying calm and amenable. “Thank you for coming in before we needed to drag you in,” she said. “It’s no trouble to make sure something isn’t bad before it gets bad. I would much rather be certain something’s not a problem before it could become a problem. You Humans keep saying ‘a stitch in time saves nine’. Little helps preserve you from bigger helps. Yes?”

“Er. Yeah. But… I didn’t think it did me any damage. I felt fine afterwards.” This was the same kind of argument that helped the spread of long-incubation, high-infection diseases back in the pre-Shattering era of Terran history.

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist. Or visit peakd (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]

Challenge #02923-G366: Bad at Risk Assessment | PeakD

Challenge #02883-G326: Learn Something, Guys

The dereggers owed him a lot of money. But they didn’t want to pay. However, he knew a way to get what he wanted and get back at them at the same time. He wrote a contract, iron clad, and had both deregger and galactic witnesses to sign as well as the leadership, smilingly, signed over a solar system that was at the edge of their space in between their space and galactic space. And in the signing, he grinned.

It was a trash planet. Polluted, filthy, air unfit, water unclean, barely anything living.

It had been a trash planet, covered in centuries of detritus the dereggers ditched there, garbage they now just shot into their solar system’s sun because it was cheaper than sending it here.

He had a dream, he had a vision, and a planet to turn from a pariah into paradise.

When the DeReggers saw the verdant, green, healthy planet that was a havenworld-like paradise, well, let’s just say they regretted signing that contract. – TrashToTreasure

The difference between garbage and treasure is all in who values what. Dereggers are famous for routinely throwing out anything they don’t like but is valued by others. Lots of them devalue the weirdest stuff. Like half the population. Or, in this case, lots of biomass. Food waste is definitely a thing for a lot of Dereggers and for a solid century or so, it was more profitable for them to just chuck everything they didn’t want onto one garbage planet on the edge of their territorial claim. Food, defunct technology. Honestly, Humans get very wasteful when they have entire solar systems of resources at their disposal. They drained off the chemistry of an entire gas giant to fertilise their crops. Then they went shopping for a system full of gas giants.

You wouldn’t believe it if it wasn’t so real for so long and in so many places. Heck, some of it’s still going. So. Long story short, this mob of Dereggers was defaulting on their bills so hard that the combined forces of the Alliance were breathing down their necks. It wasn’t until the CRC decided to withhold “additional genetic information” - translated, more gene patterns for their gengineered women - that they finally relented and began to negotiate.

Small shock that this Deregger colony, like every other Deregger colony ever, had vastly inflated their holdings and couldn’t actually hand across the value they initially promised. I know. I shouldn’t have believed them. But here’s the trick. This was exactly what I was aiming for. In exchange for a public apology across all of their networks for one week, I would be willing to settle for a trash system they had bordering agreed Alliance shipping lanes. They thought I was a born sucker.

[Be sure to visit internutter (dot) org for a link to the rest of this story, and details on how to support this artist. Or visit peakd (dot) com (slash at) internutter for the stories at their freshest]