Challenge #00395 - A030: Drunk Physics
“They’re arguing in the manner of inebriated scientists, which is to say semi-incoherently, passionately, and with citations.”
“Na, na, na, na… ‘E wasnae sayin’ tha’ black holes don’t exist… 'E was sayin’ th’ math w’s easier if'n they didn’t.”
“But that’s… that’s… that’s… thassnot the quote pipple use…”
“Aye, an’ John Lennon never said The Beatles were bigger n’ Jesus, neither.”
“I have absolutelynoidea who you're talking’ about…”
“Common quotes'r like (hic) mud. They’re common and they’re filthy.”
“And…” burp, “fulla microfauna?”
“And flora.”
“And worms and bugs.”
Lyr appeared by his shoulder. “I thought Shayde reacted to alcohol like it was arsenic.”
“So did I,” said Rael. “And yet… they are clearly inebriated.”
“Annit has tae be plank’s constant…” Shayde slurred, “because reasons.”
“Those bein’?”
“The math doesnae work if ye don’t use it. Dur.”
“I’m halfway tempted to record this,” said Rael, watching them both from his position on the corner of a handy cross-way.
“I can already get them for graffito in a non-graffiti zone,” Lyr offered. “As well as public inebriation. Problem is, that work would just about pay for it.”
“That is,” offered Rael, “if it was actually physics.”
“You can’t tell?”
Rael glared at her. “This is Shayde we’re talking about.”
Lyr sighed. “True. And the last time she did physics this big, she tore a hole in reality and fell down it. I should lock them up for their own protection.”
Rael smiled. “Have I ever told you how much I like the way you think, Officer Marken?”
[Muse food remaining: 27. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00394 - A029: It Came From Planet Earth
*totally wasn’t rereading old daily stories for art ideas, nope not me*
You’ve got a few titles for the horror movies, books, tv shows and assorted media starring humans before proper first contact was made scattered in the daily drabbles, may we see one?
[AN: Of course I’m not going to write the whole thing]
They thought they were safe inside the base. But then, they thought that sprinkling their crops with capsaicin would stop the monsters eating them.
T'tuk strapped a night-vision monocle to her face. Crept up to a window and checked outside.
The human was already there. Staring right back and eating one of the crops they had hosed with capsaicin with no apparent ill effects. Its eyes were dark. That meant that it could see her.
It was looking right at her.
“Hello, pretty,” it said.
Naturally, T'tuk freaked out and tried to hide in the darkness. Her claws tapped anxiously on the wall behind her.
The door handle wobbled. Rattled. Began to move…
T'tuk held her hands over her mouth and tried to remain still and quiet despite the fear shaking her entire body.
The door rolled open enough for the human to struggle through. Which it did. It didn’t appear to notice the multiple wounds that should have killed it a long time ago. It definitely didn’t notice the broken limb that it had simply tied sticks to so it could keep moving.
“Come out, pretty-pretty-pretty…” it leered.
T'tuk whimpered.
“I heeeeeaaaaarrrr yoooooouu…”
Then Blez came out of nowhere with a directed beam of light and a puff of capsaicin powder to the creature’s eyes. “Run, T'tuk! RUN!”
They were fast running out of places to run to and hide in.
[Muse food remaining: 28. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00393 - A028:
The Dragon and the Banana
Redscale the Magnificent landed in a clearing near the adorable little village with the thatched-roofed cottages and blew a plume of fire into the air.
“Deliver your gold to me or face the consequences,” she roared.
Her cunning plan was immediately foiled by a native asking, “What’s gold?”
Redscale the Magnificent attempted to explain. “Uh… It’s shiny. Yellow. Comes out of the ground. Most of you squishy humans trade things with it.”
The native grinned and ran to talk with his peers. It took them a few hours, but they came back with a host of shiny, yellow…
Bananas.
“This is not gold,” she growled.
“We don’t understand. This is shiny, and yellow, and comes out of the ground and we trade with these.”
“You have no metals at all?”
“What’s metal?”
Redscale the Magnificent sighed. She couldn’t fault these humans for not having metal. She tried eating a banana from the pile of organic tribute and found it… surprisingly delicious. “Very well,” she announced imperiously. “I shall teach you of metals and you shall supply me with these. If you have a volcano anywhere nearby, I shall make my home there.”
“What’s a–?”
“Mountain?”
“What’s–?”
“Any high place at all?”
They turned a hill into a lair with the help of various stones and Redscale the Magnificent’s own fire.
They meant well, these humans. And they would need a protector from any idiot with a boat and a sword.
When the inevitable explorers came, they were going to be in for a very big surprise indeed.
[Muse food remaining: 29. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00392 - A027: Interspecies Relationships
“I think its cute how a human’s normal reaction to a loud noise is to make a loud noise back”
Love is many things, as a great writer once wrote, none of them logical.
This is true across the species, but with the humans? Only more so.
K'iiv had been holding the Noise back until his beloved mammal, Del, was fully awake and not holding anything hot or spill-able.
“I pretty much have to do the thing, beloved.”
“Bracing,” said Del.
Scree-ah!
“AIGH!” Pant pant pant. “Sorry.”
“I don’t mind,” soothed K'iiv. “I think its cute how a human’s normal reaction to a loud noise is to make a loud noise back.”
“You would.”
[Muse food remaining: 24. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00391 - A026: Ride the Pony
It says something about us as a species that we can see the most badass creature in any given biome, the one that not even the top predators will go near, and decide “I am going to ride that.”
They should never have gone planet-side, no matter how much Hwell complained about ‘cabin fever’. And, once they went planet-side, they definitely didn’t have to go on a tour.
And they certainly should never have gone on a wilderness tour.
Chiefly because humans have one of three reactions to alien fauna: (1) touch it, (2) kill/eat it, or (3) ride it.
And the third was Hwell’s reaction to the creature even passing humans referred to as the Dreaded Bugblatta.
“Ooh, I wanna go on that one.”
“This is a spectator vessel, not an interactive experience,” droned Ax'and'l. “Besides, when it eats you, it doesn’t even need to chew.”
Hwell made a snorting noise. “Bet it’s a big softie when y’ treat it right.”
Ax'and'l knew better than to mock him, or supply inconvenient facts. What he did do was make a mental note to keep Hwell far, far away from any and all inebriants. And dose his beverages with detox, just in case.
And then all he had to do was get himself and Hwell safely off-planet before that damned crazy human did it anyway.
[Muse food remaining: 23. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00390 - A025: Ferocious Flavour
Something about the other alien species and the sheer amounts of food that humans eat that would digest us alive if we didn’t digest them first. Maybe a human explaining why we want that legalised to be imported on to a space station (because nobody likes eating nothing but space bran flakes)
“Council will hear…” T'rev moaned. “The Human Coalition.”
“As secretary of the Human Coalition on this station, I receive numerous petitions and pleas to add some variety into station-side food.”
“Your nutritional needs are already met in full.”
“Yes,” and that was the sticking point. “We acknowledge this, but humans get bored. And you want to reduce the incidents of Silly Season. A human with more to interest them is a human less inclined to indulge in… erratic behaviour.”
“And you believe you can accomplish this with…” T'rev consulted the list, “Tomatoes,” the committee gasped, “Pineapples,” shrieks, “Carbonic acid[1],” the delegate for Kinsh'ar fainted, “And assorted fungal and bacterial fermented lactate products?” At least three of the still conscious committee members murmured in shock and awe.
“And many others, yes, honoured delegate. Your Nutri-Pak liquid meals are everything we need, this is true, but they are not everything we want. We want flavour. You call boredom a plague. Flavour would at least slow that down.”
“Many of these flavours are hazardous to other cogniscent species.”
“We’re willing to eat them in a sealed environment. Come on! We’re going crazy, here.”
“There is no call,” T'rev sniffed, “for threats.”
“It was a plea for mercy.”
Odd that the humans didn’t enjoy being insane too often. Especially considering that that was their base method of operations. “We will consider altering the rules to allow… variety. Within reason.”
“Thank you,” the human sighed. Numerous humans in the audience were high-fiving each other. Considering how vehemently the committee had blocked these aggressive ‘foods’ in the past, mere consideration was a great leap forward.
T'rev couldn’t help but wonder if they were making a huge mistake.
[1] That’s “carbonated water” to the less chemically-inclined.
[Muse food remaining: 23. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00389 - A024: Killer Mutant Zombie Human
“You know, considering how resilient humans are most of the time it’s a bit surprising that their reproductive system is so unprotected, especially the males.”
*pained moaning from just offscreen*
This was beyond surreal. Sitting next to a human (well, technically human) and watching an ancient, speciesist movie with a human starring as the main antagonist. With the unbelievable knowledge that the human had instigated this.
He had asked why, but her answer made no sense. “Because it’s complete rubbish.” What in any of the named hells was that supposed to mean?
They were up to the last ten minutes of the feature. The ‘monster’, a saurian in an unconvincing rubber mutant zombie human suit, slowly advanced on the shrieking heroine.
“Tough guy rescue in five,” murmured Shayde, offering her popcorn. “Four. Three. Two…”
A member of the initial team, previously left for dead, entered the screen and drove the monster back. Then clobbered it in the crotch region with his bat.
“I thought the monster was female,” murmured Rael.
“Aye, that’s what makes it so funny,” she cackled.
The hero turned to the screen. “You know, considering how resilient humans are most of the time, it’s a bit surprising that their reproductive system is so unprotected.”
The credits rolled over footage of the monster writhing in the flames.
Shayde was almost causing herself physical injury from laughing so hard. Tears were rolling down her face as she almost desperately clung to her ribs.
“I still don’t understand how this is funny. It’s cheap, badly-produced, inconsistent, offensive, inaccurate, barely-scripted trash.”
“Aye, that’s the charm,” Shayde squeaked. She was still fighting giggles. “Pure schlock. It cannae be offensive 'cause it got everything so badly wrong…”
“It wasn’t that long ago that people believed this about your people.”
“That kinda makes it funnier.”
“Like children running away from you while screaming makes you laugh,” he said.
That shattered the mood faster than a vibra-hammer. Despite everything, there were some factions who viewed her as a monster and acted accordingly.
“Thanks for remindin’ me,” she iced. “I had been able tae ferget.” She wiped her face.
The drastic measure of the change made him want to fix it somehow. Tell her that everything would get better, anyway. But he was also compelled and paid to educate her. “You do see how that feature can be problematic.”
“Aye, I can. It’s just…” she fumbled for the right words, juggling invisible ones in front of her. “Willin’ suspension of offence, ye ken?”
He didn’t. “I’ve heard of willing suspension of disbelief…”
“Aye, this is somethin’ similar. Like… ye know it’s goin’ tae be offensive, so ye just enjoy everythin’ else. And sometimes, even the offensive bits.”
He shook his head and boggled at her. “Humans are crazy…”
She laughed anew. “I love ye too,” she teased.
[Muse food remaining: 24. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00388 - A023: The Sad Misadventures of Hwell Barrow
“So that’s how I accidentally wound up in an alien porn film.”
Bailing Hwell out of legal custody was nothing new. What was new was that he was naked, save for layers of assorted, melted and melting cheese. All of which he was busy licking off of his hairy arms.
Ax'and'l looked down at Hwell and his expanding mess and squeaked, “In your own words: what the flying hell, Hwell?”
Hwell continued chewing a long string of something chunky from his left arm. “Uhm… It’s kind of a long story…”
It involved being drunk, a usual state of affairs whenever Hwell hit a port. It also involved three unregistered sexual therapists (one slightly underage), an ‘underground’ film crew, several varieties of irradiated cheese (of course), fifteen tubs of similarly irradiated strawberry yoghurt, twelve different ungulates, a case of aphrodisiacs and a crowd of onlookers taking bets. And, for some reason, a dozen live mice and a pumpkin.
“And then I woke up and they told me I was booked for filming pornography without proper licensing. It was an accident, I swear!”
Ax'and'l turned to the officer in charge, “How many more incidents like this before I’m allowed to call him my pet and keep him on a short leash?”
[Muse food remaining: 25. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00387 - A022: The Biggest Game of Fetch
Buddy the golden retriever/lab mix, and Igor, his thinking-brain Pug. Two Uplifted dogs, trekking together across the universe.
Their winnings from the Great Nufurria Lawsuit had paid for the custom space suits that allowed them to sniff out the universe. Which was very important, because Buddy tended to lead with his nose.
“Play time? Play time?” Buddy panted.
“Almost, my friend,” Igor said, sounding for all the worlds like Peter Lorre. “You see the ship? We’re going inside that ship to look for all of these smells.” He opened the sealed box that contained all of the can’t-lose materials.
Buddy sniffed eagerly at each one. His tail, already generating its own air currents, went into overdrive. “I seek,” said Buddy. “I find.”
“Good boy,” cheered Igor the Pug. He was more ‘human’ and his companion more 'dog’, but they had formed a bond in the Pound that neither wanted to break. Igor sometimes worried that he may be exploiting Buddy, who was simple-minded, even for a Labrador. Their counsellor/care-worker insisted they made a good pack.
And it was always surreal, having to parent someone who was chronologically older than oneself.
It was, as counsellor T'rex explained, perfect symbiosis. Igor had much to give to Buddy, and Buddy had much to give back.
And this was the acid test.
“We are also looking for anything new and different,” added Igor. “I’ll be smelling everything you smell. So we know what is good and what we can leave.”
“Good dog!” Buddy barked. “Play time! Play time!”
Igor never knew what reached Buddy, but he could tell that his friend was eager to get going.
They docked with the old relic, which was their only claim in the massive sargasso of abandoned wrecks known as Doldrum Nine. It never paid to bet that this occupation was the only one to support their independent, or co-dependant, lives.
There were many other things they could try, yet. This was just the one that happened to suit Igor the best. He didn’t like acting all… servile… whenever a human paid him positive attention.
Or, as he found out, anyone who fit sufficiently into the human silhouette.
Igor helped Buddy suit up, a problem doubled by Buddy’s forever-wagging tail. It could not be allowed to stick out of the suit, though, since any vent in a space suit was a very bad thing. He checked and double-checked the seals, the operational functions, the air supply and Buddy’s understanding of the simplified interface.
“Yellow good,” Buddy barked. “Red bad. Red house, go home!”[1]
“Good dog,” cooed Igor, handing Buddy a treat. The suit Buddy wore had also been rigged to dispense treats when Igor pressed the right button on his own chest-plate.
Helmets sealed, Igor helped Buddy through the airlock. Reduced atmosphere. Someone had already siphoned off most of the air in here.
Buddy already sniffed like a maniac, crouching and trying to go on all fours that his body did not possess.
Readouts spilled across Igor’s HUD, showing the relative worth of everything Buddy smelled/scanned with his snout-reader. Everything was working.
Then Buddy sprang away, barking, “Fetch! Fetch!” as he went.
The game was afoot.
*
Buddy wriggled in his suit-recharger. “More play? More play?”
“Play done, Buddy. Good job.” Another treat. Igor would have to get the lo-cal, high-taste ones, next jaunt. Otherwise, Buddy would need a stretchier space suit. “I filled our hold and now we fetch it back to the station.”
“Good dog,” Buddy kissed Igor’s face as Igor released him from the suit. Getting out was far easier than getting in. “Igor good dog!”
Igor was far more comfortable hugging his friend. “We’re both good dogs,” he said. “Time to go back. Time for calm.”
[1] Because dogs can’t see the colour green.
[Muse food remaining: 25. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]
Challenge #00386 - A021: One Disastrous Afternoon in the Offices of the Cogniscent Rights Commission
Certain dogs, when Uplifted, reverted to certain forms of speech. Pugs, for instance, always tended to sound…..minionish. Sort of Peter Lorre-esque, if you would, but with more lithping. “It’s not a bug, it’s a feature!” proclaimed the first woman to Uplift a dog. "Much more pleasant than the shrill voices of Maltese and Shih Tzus, don’t you think? Not sure what’s up with the poodles - no matter what the size, they sound a lot tougher than you’d think, especially the little ones.“ And pit bull rescuers everywhere rejoiced when Uplifted pit bulls turned out to have mellow, easygoing voices that ran completely against their harsh reputation.
It is common for dog owners to say, ”(S)he thinks (s)he’s people!“ when speaking of their pet. Then came the genetic tinkering fad known as Augmenting. Artificially raising a companion animal to a stage where they were at least cusp-cogniscent and the topic of basic civil rights reared its un-telegenic head.
But periodic enquiries about registered Augments were nothing compared to the legal tangle that was Nufurria.
Pets uplifted to cogniscent status. The Uplifted then interbred with others on Nufurria. Especially their human masters.
But their core traits still remained. They were still dogs. And cats. And horses.
Jenrii summoned a smile for her next client. A cogniscent of Pit Bull descent. All muscles and intimidating, top-heavy bulk. There were scars of old battles all over him, but he sat down as meek as milk.
"What’s your name?”
After twenty aggressive poodles, Jenrii half-expected more snarling, but she got a, “Please, my name is Rough Patch, thank you ma'am,” in the softest, gentlest voice ever possible.
“And what did the humans have you doing on Nufurria?”
Now his voice got smaller. “…theyhadmefightinginapit…”
Humans. The instant they established a monoculture on the planet, technology and society both collapsed into sheer barbarism. “I take it you didn’t like that.”
“No! Sorry. It was horrible. I didn’t want to, and they said they’d kill my pack-mates in front'a me if I didn’t and…” tears fell. Jenrii handed over a box of tissues. “Thank you ma'am.” he mopped his face. “The worse i was, the better things got. Except for the ones I beat.” Sob. “They died. I’m so sorry about that…”
“It’s okay,” soothed Janrii. Inside, she seethed. “You were not in control. You can be in control now, with help?”
His demeanour changed instantly. His tail wagged shyly. “Really? What do I gotta do, please?”
Janrii ran through his current options, which included legal action against his owners and seeking reparations for the families of the dead. Then there was schooling in the very wide range of educational possibilities. Followed by a basic run-through of galactic ally accepted cogniscent rights.
“Please, ma'am? Our… our pups.”
“Yes. What about them?”
“Uplifting… doesn’t breed true. The humans decide which ones… get the treatment. It’s almost torture for the poor babies, but… we don’t like to see them become… just dogs.”
Great. Another legal wrinkle in the already rumpled fabric of justice.
“We have a B'Nari gene consultant team already on staff. If anyone can work out your genes to your satisfaction. I’ll send them a memo and set up an appointment for you and your chosen spouse.”
“Excuse me, ma'am. Does this mean no more tortured babies?”
“Yes, Mr Patch. No more tortured babies. No more… development troubles either. It may take some time, but Uplifts will be recognised as a legitimate cogniscent species.”
He fell across the desk between them and licked her face half off. Janrii had to get used to dog gratitude. There were plenty more to interview, yet.
A whole planet-full.
[Muse food remaining: 26. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]