Challenge #02655-G098: A Choice
“When they day comes and you know you’re not coming out of a fight… Make sure there is a long line for St. Peter before you get there.” - Advice from my very pacifist Grandfather – Anon Guest
[AN: Not that conversant with this particular corner of Xtian theology, OP. Apologies in advance for the mistakes made herein]
The last shall go first, and the first shall go last – Human Theological Saying.
Faith is a strange thing. Belief is powerful, but people can believe things at varying degrees of harm to themselves and others. Belief that one can fly -if one’s faith is strong enough- is only dangerous to oneself if put to the extreme test. Belief in the miasma theory is harmful to many if a plague strikes. It’s all about context.
Belief in what happens to the soul after a life is ended is unproven, unprovable, and the undeniable definition of faith. Science remains true without belief. Faith is believing regardless of any proof. Somewhere in there, a truth exists.
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Challenge #02654-G097: A Surpassed Reminder
When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let’s all get drunk, and go to heaven! – Anon Guest
This was a decorative plaque found in the ruins. Unremarkable, save for the fact that most of it was legible, and didn’t necessitate reconstruction. There were thousands like it. Almost one in every ruined home. Just like the ones with large lettering proclaiming the virtues, Live Laugh Love.
This was not a homogeneity graveworld, but rather one that went through a stage of homogeneity and therefore stagnation before the people had had enough and dove headfirst into diversity and difference like a small child entering an All You Can Eat candy store. This was an abandoned residential area that was abandoned and subsequently became archeology. Those digging there expected something of a snapshot of society in that time and place.
On one hand, it was fascinating. Rather like a train wreck was fascinating. On the other hand, it was horrifying in a remarkable resemblance to the previous simile. Thousands of carbon-copy homes with similar philosophies branded on the decorations they filled their private sanctuaries with. Identical plastic flamingoes and garden gnomes, identical plaques on the walls. Identical “one glass” portraits with a humorously gigantic wineglass, where the only difference was the woman holding the glass and whether or not there was a similarly enormous bottle of wine nearby.
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Challenge #02653-G096: Blandishments for the Bland
Anything else with CLARC?
(Sorry about the blast from the past. Slowly getting fully caught up.) – SilverRey
[AN: Nothing to apologise for. I love that you love the old stuff enough to deliver some inspiration. Hopefully you’re reading faster than a story a day ;) ]
Every fleet has its screw-ups, every force has its dead weight. They may also serve who stand and wait, but those who sit on their butts with a finger up an orifice are not doing anyone any good. When those forces had the limits of a planet, the dead weight could be expelled from the service, and given directions to the way out with a not-so-fond farewell.
In space, it’s another story. Forces cannot, for ethical reasons, give the dead weight a boot out of the airlock with a livesuit and all of their stuff. When funding is tied to the numbers of bodies in the force, even the butts at rest are useful in tipping a scale somewhere. Yet those same butts cannot be allowed near anything important. Therefore, they are sent to the area of least damage.
Allegedly welcome to Transit Station Eighty-Six. If you lived here, you’d be screwed by now. It’s a make-work station where the crew are pretty much permitted to do whatever they like so long as they don’t interfere with the automated systems. CLARC of course, is the exception to that rule.
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Challenge #02652-G095: Never Going Gently
The question has been around since the beginning of analytical thought, but has become ever more perplexing since the arrival of humans, to philosophers across the galaxy…
Deathworlders, in Comparison to Havenworlders, are Incredibly short lived. and Humans, even excepting acts of self sacrifice, attempts at Darwin awards, and general mishappenings, a regular human has an expected lifespan of 90 to 110 standard years in optimal conditions. compared to the Hundreds that most Havenworlders live, (or as many humans put it, merely survive), humans are often compared to lightning; extremely bright, absolutely beautiful, comparatively devastating and tragically (or mercifully depending on your view) brief.
…and so it is asked,
“What constitutes a full and well lived life?” – Adam From Darwin
Vessels and livesuits in Galactic Space have recording devices that preserve the final moments of the occupants. They have this so that those sweeping up the mess can have a chance at formulating better protection for the next time such trouble arises. This has lead to the discovery that Humans have two sets of dying words.
Those they say to their friends, and those they say to themselves. If there is an enemy they are fighting in the process, then the other set becomes a defiant battle-cry in an attempt to intimidate the enemy. The most common last words to allies forms the Last Lie, “You go ahead, I’ll catch up.”
The most common words to themselves are, “I’ve lived a good life.” That is, when the Humans in question have the time to accept their impending demise. Far too many do not. Every single Human who has laid down their life for others accepts this end with determination and those five words.
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Challenge #02651-G094: Noise Worth Sleeping to
“I am sorry to bother you, but would you mind if I took a nap while you are here? You don’t need to change what you are doing or anything. It is just to… loud… when I am by myself.” – SilverRey
Hejiq startled out of their work mentality to stare at the Ship’s Human, Dem. They were wearing colourful insulation over their Ships’ Skins known to Humans as a ‘kigu’, and this one was patterned to match the standard Skitty. Human Dem carried a pillow under one arm and a rolled-up mat under the other.
“There is something too noisy about your quarters?” enquired Hejiq. “We took care to insulate your residence from any invasive noises.”
“Ironically? It’s too quiet. My head gets loud when it’s too quiet. Anxiety, ghost of flakk-ups past, things I should have said. Things I never should have said. I need some controlled white noise so I can fall asleep and the in-residence entertainment unit has an auto-shutoff feature I can’t hack. Yet.”
[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]