u/Quiet-Money7892

The introduction to the Galactic Community was... rather awkward. It turns out, humanity had been observed throughout its entire history. With great passion. Far too much passion, in fact.

A member of a very ancient and powerful civilization had been assigned to oversee humanity's introduction and guidance. Instead, she ended up utterly obsessed with humans — every last aspect of them. To a genuinely unhealthy degree.

War and politics? Her battle-hungry soul devoured it all like a TV series, spending evenings with snacks and drinks. Friendship and intimacy? She would regularly select a family to observe, and found herself in tears every time someone had a touching reunion — or a breakup. Eccentricity and perversion? Well, her species is fully hermaphroditic, and she is very curious and very imaginative — she was into everything. It was also her idea to insert tracking devices into human anal cavities.

It is something of a wonder that she maintained her professionalism and was never fully exposed — keeping the fact of her presence firmly in the realm of speculation. (Though the Community has its suspicions about those human legends of dragons demanding virgins as tribute. They simply couldn't prove anything.)

So when humanity demonstrated its capability for FTL travel, the Community was notified immediately — and welcomed humanity into the fold. By law, humanity received a complete copy of their own history, meticulously documented by their ancient, near-immortal observer. Secrets of their origins, reaching back to long before the first civilizations rose on Earth... delivered in the form of a very long, very detailed, and surprisingly well-written romance novel.

Humanity is still trying to get in contact with their eternal stalker. She's simply too good at hiding. The Community apologizes for her, noting that she grew far too reclusive over the course of her extraordinarily long assignment. Though in certain closed networks, human history continues to be documented... in all its vivid detail.

Human 1: "That's not an alien. That's just my Pokémon merch."

Policeman: "Three bags of cat-sized... Breathing toys?"

H1: "I'm a big fan."

P: "Alright. Welcome to Earth."

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H2: "This is a research material."

P: "Is it sapient?"

H2: "Is your smartphone?"

P: "Hm... Welcome to Earth."

------

H3: "This is an experimental food."

P: "In an aquarium with in-built terminal?"

H3: "Have you never eaten calamari?"

P: "Whatever. Welcome to Earth."

------

P: "Holy shit! A dragon?!"

H4: "A service pet."

P: "Helps you to... See?"

H4: "Helps me to not see things I do not want."

P: "Uh... Welcome to Earth"

-----

P: "That's clearly an alien!"

H5: "That's my wife."

P: "..."

H5: "..."

A human-sized bunny: "..."

P: "Welcome to Earth."

We used to think of psychics as ascetic and enlightened. That may be right for some of them, but most are totally not like that. They may not need polluting fuels or power hungry computation machines, but they indeed produce excess products in the form of psychic tension.

Intrusive thoughts, leftovers of psychic spells and curses, aggressive suicidal or crazy and delusional thoughts of impossible things, unrealistic fears, occasional god-complexes, and tons of brain farts—all of those are generated and dropped into the noosphere of psychic worlds and ships. All of those won't go anywhere and need to be taken elsewhere. Very little is even thought of for processing it. It's easier to just cut unwanted thoughts out of yourself than spend time and psychic resources to deal with it, rationalizing and coping.

Psychics usually act as any developed civilization would during its golden age: it will just throw its garbage somewhere and cover it with a thin layer of dirt. Though unlike industrial garbage, it couldn't just be dropped elsewhere. It needed an actual noosphere and psychic hosts. Growing psychic slaves for that is expensive and unpopular. Masses that care enough to notice the problem mostly demand expensive and impractical solutions that may fuel populism but won't really help. So governments found a cheaper approach. They use primitive worlds.

A developed civilization will likely notice being used as a psychic tension dump. And won't like that. So primitive sapients are the best for the case. Their noosphere is clean, it can be filled, and usually all of the sapient hosts on the planet die naturally of their madness before being noticed or causing problems. Those in the Community who cared could do nothing. Because at first, they had to find such a case—which is not easy, since usually these are backwater civilizations who knows where—and second, they needed to prove their point, which is hard to do if you and the judge are not psykers. And even if they did, it is easier to just destroy the world. Dealing with the consequences of that is easier than dealing with the consequences of creating a possibly hazardous psychic landfill.

Earth just so happened to be perfect. Its sapient lifeform has a large hidden psychic potential; therefore, its noosphere has a very large, near-unlimited capacity. Large enough to not be recognized as a psychic dump, no matter how much you drop there. For a long time, several psychic civilizations dumped their psychic tension there, not only slowly polluting an undeveloped race but also affecting their development in an unrecognizable way. Though it's not like they cared. Earth was under the formal control of a civilization that gained a lot of resources in exchange for allowing others to use it as a psychic dump. Too many were interested to let the voices of primitives' protectors be heard. Meanwhile, humans felt the full experience of being a psychic dump.

Over time, humanity's psychic potential was destroyed. Finding a single clean thought in their heads is as hard as finding a non-irradiated particle in a fission reactor. Most of the kids are born within the spectrum. Humans are desperately using each other to help process at least those thoughts they can understand. Those who couldn't handle the tension are isolated. And those who weren't become the cause of even more suffering. Humans created primitive but somewhat efficient meditation practices that allow them to feel at least an echo of forever-lost inner peace. Humans use local animals to enhance their processing capabilities. And every day they get even more dumped on them than they could possibly digest.

Yet they live. They grow. They develop. Unseen, unwanted, uncared for, unprotected. But filled with what everyone wanted to get rid of. And with a kindling dream of reaching for the stars, where they hope to find a solution to questions that were never theirs. And salvation from suffering that they never deserved.

Somehow their existence triggers a very antagonistic reaction within humans. They killed most of their gods. They killed several other gods. They killed those, who claimed themselves gods. Death - is the only godlike entity that humans still tolerate.

Because this one - doesn't bleed.

Interdimensional travel. Though everyone in the galactic community knows of its possibility, all sane races refuse and actively forbid such operations. So far, nothing good has ever come out of it, and performing more complex operations has proven to be extremely risky both for those who perform it and for reality as we know it.

Yet every now and then, illegal operations are performed in known space, which usually results in the horrible death of everyone involved and the appearance of another anomaly. Mostly temporary—but there are at least two cases in the galaxy of stable anomalies that seem to slowly fuse with the real world. These zones are now heavily contained, and researchers hope that one day they will find a way to destroy them.

Though completely ceasing interdimensional interaction seems impossible for now. The only case of friendly interdimensional entities was the civilization of so-called Neighbors. Friendly anthropomorphs, trade with whom is the only way to obtain useful interdimensional goods. Though their desired payment may vary from "a cup of the first rainwater of yesterday's rain" to "the virginity of the king's firstborn" or "the dream of your absolution," so far everyone has found a deal with them. Their most popular good is the so-called "element 125 minus 120." Obtained in the form of crystals, it is a very useful source of energy capable of controlled antimatter annihilation, which makes interstellar travel very cheap.

And of course, since interdimensional travel for any lifeform is universally considered a stupid idea, humans poured a lot of resources into it. Which may not be the most stupid thing they've done, but maybe one of the most dangerous. Right now, a big part of human space is isolated from aliens just in case they accidentally create another stable anomaly. Again.

Though it seems humans have gone the furthest of all in... whatever they are doing. For now, it is unclear if humans even found something in their research or if interdimensional travel has finally gotten to their primitive brains. Neighbors seem to like humans a lot, and despite the fact that humans call them "demons," there are already enough cases of human-Neighbor hybrids and even cases where smaller interdimensional entities were taken by humans as pets.

So far, humans actively refuse to share their research because, as they say, "You won't understand anything anyway." Right now, humans are forming official—and who knows how many secret—agencies that research, contain, and contact interdimensional entities. For some reason, "element 125 minus 120" is forbidden on all human worlds, and humans mostly refuse to fly on ships when it is used. Their published research also makes little sense. Like one of their lead scientists said: "The lack of result is the best result you could ever hope for." Which didn't prove itself useful.

The scientific community mostly agrees that humans were caught in the trap of unimaginable knowledge, and for now, everyone is slowly but surely cutting their connections with humans, expecting them to finally step over some unseen edge soon. Neighbors, though, are actively adopting human culture. They live on human worlds, work with humans at their jobs, and wear human clothes. (Though they pathologically refuse to wear anything below their waist. But humans seem like they've gotten used to it.) Meanwhile, humans seem to slowly lose their grip on reality, speaking nonsense no one but them seems to understand. Many believe that Neighbors are just using humans for something.

In short, interdimensional travel is the definition of forbidden knowledge. Even humans who say they've found out something actively refuse to share... And most of the galaxy doesn't even seem to be interested.

Humanity and Domain had to stop their war, because next step would be total annihilation of the whole sector. Both delegations from both factions arrived to a neutral moon for negotiations. It went... Not really smooth. Every side was on their edge.

Humans in their titanic mechsuit - were constantly checking their weapon systems as their envoy - leaked three layers of sweat in a perfectly climate-controlled cockpit.

Domain enovy - had literal green smoke coming from her ritual scars, signaling that she kept her battle implants on all the time. Her wings were tense, ready to shoot her body into the fight at any moment.

In short - the whole negotiations felt like they had one word per minute.

But it was other part that brought everyone hope. A video of one of the Domain's participants daughter - playing with toy car. Inside a car - was a human boy, apparently, son of one of the human participants. Both sneaked away and managed to befriend each other, while their parents were ready to die and take the other side with them.

H: "Sex industry."

A: "But... you cured the largest number of plagues!"

H: "Pharmacology is won not by those who sell the rarest drug, but by those who sell the most of it. Money from enlargers of whatever you wish and enhancers of whatever you need is so big that the drug for cancer is a mere byproduct."

A: "Well, you... stopped many wars?"

H: "When you own both TentaHub and Predator Network, the whole galaxy just fills your database with every kind of content there is. We just fed it to AIs, and they gave us overall pictures of what people want, consider interesting, pretty, ugly, tempting, and undesirable. What's left was to turn it into memetic agents, and there we have it. Universal pacification techniques."

A: "But... everyone considers you protectors of all sentient life!"

H: "Of course! The more sapients breed, the more sapients they produce, the more sapients join our client base, the more sapients keep on breeding! Family therapy, porn, biomods, xeno-hybridization — all of those are parts of our big program of expanding our client base! After all, life was made to multiply and fill all accessible space, and we provide all that's needed for that! That's how it wins over entropy."

A: "But... your citizens are not... exploited."

H: "Why would they be? Our company works on three principles: Be the best version of yourself, keep your views wide, and show by example. Our Sapient Resources department develops the most enjoyable forms of workplace organization! And if people dream of returning to work, is that even work?! Today, you have a chance to start your life in our office, get your company-financed kindergarten, school, and higher education. Join one of many jobs where you will find your mate—maybe even multiple mates. Then breed all you want and finally give birth to more future clients or workers! Is it exploitation when you can leave any time but don't want to?"

A: "Was it always about money, then?"

H: "Pff... money? At this scale, they're but a tool. No, like you said—we are a sex industry. It was always about it." *winks*

When humans were first found, it was by pure accident. A group of psychic pilgrims heard a loud scream at the edge of their perception. When they arrived, hoping to save everyone they could from what they believed was a planet-scale catastrophe, they found out it was not a call of distress. It was simply what the natural psychic field was made of. Screams and pain.

At first, humans weren't even considered sapient. The scientific community back then strictly defined sapience as a phenomenon that could only develop in a stable and tame environment. On a world so scarce in resources and so chaotic, sapience couldn't possibly have appeared in the next billion planetary cycles... In a way, they were right.

Anyone who met a human back then couldn't recognize them as a fellow sapient being. They saw a frightened animal, tormented inside by something even the most deranged genetic engineer's mind couldn't have conceived. They heard a constant scream of distress and pain, and even if you tried to speak to them, it would feel as though, to answer you, they had to take a sharp object and carve the response into their own living, bleeding flesh. Given such apparent indifference to their own suffering, no one really wanted to speak to them.

Less individualistic minds recognized them as fellow hive minds. But where hive minds were born of harmony, humans were... closer to a cat piano, as some human artists later described it. Harmony built on suffering. On torture. The human body was like a crude building constructed by entirely different engineers using entirely different materials. And inside it were multiple rival factions, simultaneously fighting, ruining, and patching the structure. Somehow, a form of sapience emerged from this. In short, hive minds were the only ones who could speak to humans. It didn't mean they enjoyed doing so.

Those who refused to speak to humans under any circumstances were the psychic species. To this day, they still refuse to recognize humans as sapient beings, considering them instead a very convincing simulation — a form of artificial sentience remarkably good at replicating patterns in response to stimuli. Psychics experienced human thoughts the way a person might feel a plasma cutter carving into their own living flesh. It didn't help that humans themselves, though incapable of using modern technology in any conventional way, had learned to use it by literally sewing it directly into their brains and letting it figure out the rest. Somehow, the fragility of their system made them modular.

Eventually, humans were slowly but surely pulled closer to the galactic standard. Since none of the conventional technologies were available to them, they had to invent their own. And what they did would, under any other circumstances, have been called crimes against sapience itself.

Humans repaired their bodies, making them less fragile and considerably stronger. But the analogy with a building full of rival factions didn't go away. The factions simply acquired nuclear weapons — while the building itself was now made of neosteel. The body didn't stop tearing itself apart in order to function. It just became much harder to break.

Humans fixed their (psychics still refuse to call it that) minds. Their primitive brains were not designed to channel psychic energy. So they developed a separate mind built specifically to be tortured, torn apart, and sacrificed to whatever psychic need arose. They called it a mana pool. Then they muffled their inner screams with psychic techniques that others would call a torturer's tools. Their presence near psychics could be called tolerable — as long as everyone avoided eye contact.

Standard education systems refused to teach humans, having calculated that the process would likely destroy whatever sapient part they had. Humans jailbroke them anyway and made the systems teach them indefinitely. As it turned out, the most effective way to teach a human any given skill was to build an entire world around them — one in which that skill was the only means of easing the pain, even a little. In a way, the systems had been right: whatever went into the simulation was never quite the same thing that came out. But humans always came back for more.

And finally — someone without recognized sapience, by galactic standards, could never interface with standard galactic machinery. Humans couldn't manage it either, not without implanting a computer directly into their brains and letting it learn on its own. Not every device was built for that. So they simply invented a series of adapters — artificial organs that could be passed down genetically and would readily interface with almost any device required. Such an approach still disgusts nearly everyone. Everyone, perhaps, except virtual AIs, who find the idea of someone plugging directly into their system to be, if anything, rather romantic.

The small fluffy alien frantically hammered the comm button, his voice growing more desperate with every attempt.

“Fluffpuff, please come back! Fluffpuff, please respond!”

A human crewmate leaned over, visibly confused.

“What happened?”

“My cub stole a ship from the clan hangar and flew off to the Traxi station!” the Wurr whined. “She said they didn’t let her on some attractions when we visited… The Traxi… they don’t like our kind. We were lucky to leave peacefully last time. But now she’s gone back and… and she won’t respond!”

The human raised an eyebrow.

“Why would she do that? I thought you Wurr were supposed to be master diplomats?”

“She’s just a cub! She…” The alien’s ears drooped. “She bought some human goods online. I specifically told her not to.”

“Weapons?”

Wurr responded in an ominous whisper: “Coffee.”

“Dear god…”

“She completely lost control,” the Wurr continued, pacing nervously. “She took a small interceptor and left before anyone could stop her. And now she’s not answering…”

The communicator suddenly beeped with an incoming message.

“It’s… it’s the Traxi.”

The message opened, accompanied by a holo-image.

The image showed what remained of a station docking bay. Everything was sliced apart by high-powered lasers. Mangled battleships lay crumpled in a pile where gravity generators had clearly failed. Atop this mountain of scrap sat a tiny, intact Wurr-designed interceptor. In the open cockpit, a small fluffy cub was peacefully sleeping, curled up in a ball.

The attached text read:

>We sincerely apologize. Please come and take her away.

>She breached our security, destroyed the local protection fleet, then used debris and overcharged gravity snares to smash open our hangars. She shot out the power generators, stunned our security droids with EMPs, and landed on top of the wreckage. After that she declared herself the rightful conqueror and the new Queen of the station and demanded immediate access to the roller coaster.

>Then she fell asleep.

>Please hurry. She also broke our hyper-relay. The station is leaking oxygen and nuclear fuel. You are the only ship we can reach.

The Wurr’s eyes filled with tears of relief.

“Layai! My little Fluffpuff, she’s alive! We have to go get her right now!”

The human stared at the image for a long moment, then slowly turned to his fluffy colleague.

“…So, will they let her ride the attractions now?”

When you try to attack human psychically - Don't. What you call "Mind blast", "Madness bomb", "Phase backloop", "Bloodlust curse" or "Primordial void" - are actual regular spells humans use in their telephatic therapy. They call them: "Sudden insight", "Whirlwind of ideas", "A surge of nostalgia", "Controlled rage" and "Post-nut clarity".

At best - human will thank you for free therapy. At worst... You'll just give them much more ideas right when you don't want to give them more ideas.

You can always realize there is a strong psyker ready to fight. When they release their mind blockers, preparing fully for the battle. And though every psyker is unique - there are some similarities within a single species.

Around Veils, parastitc neural spiders - you feel like something crawling everywhere around you, you don't know where it comes, but you are sure that it is getting closer.

Around Azels, interdimentional adventurers - it feels like it's getting warmer and colder at the same time. You hear the upcoming roars of flames, while feeling like you are on ice. Though you can't track where the flame is.

Around members of Void Cult, literal undead - you can distinctly hear screams of those who fell previously to their spells. though they are always coming from somewhere you can't see.

And there are human psykers... First - you will always know where they are, even if you don't want to. And second - their aura is surprisingly harmonized, tolerable and even appealing for many. Yet as scary for their enemies.

They call it "Boss music'.

Pilots are among the most vital specialists in the galaxy. Their skills are required for logistics, military operations, mining, scientific research, and even the short but delicate orbital and gravitic maneuvers needed to move vessels from logistics stations to landing sites or orbital docks. All such operations demand the highest level of professionalism. That is why every member of the Galactic Community sets strict standards for piloting proficiency within their space — and enforces them ruthlessly. Flying without the proper license is one of the fastest ways to earn a very expensive and painful lesson.

Achieving true mastery, however, is an almost impossible task. Mastering every type of vessel, in every possible anomaly, stellar condition, and gravitational hazard would require far more than a single standard lifespan. It demands not only decades of relentless training, but also a remarkably stable mind and constant re-certification. As vast and varied as the galaxy itself, so are the specializations within the piloting profession.

True pilots wear their licenses like personal badges of honor. The rarer and more exotic the certification, the greater the prestige — even if the actual situations requiring such expertise are almost nonexistent: Vultrian Voidrifters, Wurrian Stardivers, Draki Capital Ship-Lords — these titles are spoken with genuine awe. There are so few of these elite specialists in the entire galaxy that if you were to write down all their full names along with every accumulated title, the complete list would still fit into a single small notebook. They command respect wherever pilots gather.

Yet there is one certification that very few pilots ever attempt, and even fewer successfully obtain. Possessing it grants no respect, no admiration, and no celebratory parties. Only deep, sincere condolences… and a very respectful, very large distance.

It is known as the “Human Prayer-Ship Mastery.”

This infamous license does not require the pilot to fly through black holes, survive neutron star storms, or cross impossible distances. Instead, it asks one brutally simple question:

How far can you go when every single system on your ship is flawed and guaranteed to fail at the worst possible moment? When your navigation is hacked, your other systems are infected with self-replicating intelligent viruses, and your crew consists of specially selected, randomly organized and overconfident clinical idiots?

I have noticed a scale I kinda fail to fully grasp, but hear me out:

There are some models, that need little input and can generate a good output by themselves. And there are models that need great, detailed prompts to generate something realty good, while providing both with the opposite - actually wosens output.

What have I noticed: GLM, Claude, Kimi - require little input. And when you fill your context too much with your own instructions - they start to get confused and repetitive. While Gemini and DeepSeek - suffer greatly from lack of context, getting predictable and repetitive, but if you give them a wider prompt - they get really creative and imaginative.

Have someone else noticed that? Maybe there's something about it in AI research papers I don't read?

Dark Forest Games. One of the oldest interstellar rituals still practiced today. The name of its creators has been lost to history, yet the games continue to prove that even species built for destruction and killing can find common ground without tearing the galaxy apart in real war.

These are contests of hunting, ingenuity, and charisma. Sapient beings must rely solely on their natural abilities to survive the worst horrors the Community has ever devised — creatures and nightmares specifically engineered to be released into the Forest. The goal is simple: reach a certain level of development and remain the only free hunter still standing.

Those whose biosignals flatline are instantly teleported out, reanimated, and returned to normal life. Those who submit and accept subjugation become slaves for the remainder of the game. Their life systems are transferred to their new master, who can end them with a mere thought. Death is prevented by all technical means… but the pain remains very, very real.

And of all species, humans have proven themselves to be exceptional hunters and surprisingly noble rulers.

Of course, they are not absolute champions. The Games vary greatly in scale and participants, and new ones are constantly running across the galaxy. Still, humans have not missed a single major event. They have demonstrated remarkable creativity, adaptability, and a frightening talent for both domination and resistance.

Since only two individuals of the same species are allowed per game, many humans treat the Dark Forest as an extension of their mating rituals. (I’m not particularly familiar with their customs, but I still weep every time I watch the footage of their infamous “Lake Wedding.” They’ve made dozens of virtual movies about it.) Others use the Games as a research ground (nukes are not technically banned, but no one expected anyone to actually build one under such primitive conditions.) Some simply use it as a convenient excuse to skip unpleasant obligations. (The phrase “I died yesterday” no longer works as a valid reason for a day off on human worlds.)

I’ve been participating in smaller local Games to prepare for the larger ones. And I keep running into the same human from my home sector.

She survives every single time. On several occasions I’ve seen her take down massive beasts from distances so great I didn’t even realize it was her until she came to claim her prize. And yet, every single time… I manage to capture and enslave her.

The most fearsome hunter in the realm keeps willingly submitting to me.

During the first Game I was suspicious. Then surprised. Now we’ve grown familiar with each other and even developed our own little rituals. She has helped me enslave and destroy many other opponents. Even though I train desperately for the larger-scale Games, I keep asking her to skip the next one and let me win on my own.

She always smiles and says the same thing: “You are winning on your own.”

I still doubt it. I continue to improve… but sometimes I wonder if she’s right. Maybe I really am just that good at hunting?

My species evolved from aquatic ambush predators that relied on camouflage. As a result, we never developed complex radiation-sensing organs. Our primary senses are chemical — taste and smell — with touch and vibration coming in second. Outside of water, however, the latter becomes significantly weaker.

I love working aboard this ship. I joined the engineering crew, and thanks to my ability to squeeze through tight spaces and reshape my body with far greater force than any natural muscle could produce, I quickly proved myself a reliable crewmate. I deepened my specialization and soon became a valuable member of the team.

There was just one problem: I had to rely on artificial sense enhancers built into my exosuit. Even then, I mostly depended on touch, since proper chemical sensors were too expensive for my working suit. I felt genuinely sad that I couldn’t properly taste my crewmates…

That was when I decided I would taste each of them at least once.

I regret nothing. My research proved extremely informative.

First: Humans react very differently to being tasted. I’m still confused by the results. Some shouted and told me never to do it again, while others seemed to enjoy it and even asked me to continue. I assume they have some kind of biological cycles that affect their emotions. They taste best when asleep.

Second: Humans are strangely bothered by “alien” smells. They use the sanitation bay with almost religious regularity to scrub away their natural chemicals. Interestingly, the sanitation bay also seems to influence their mood. When I tried ambushing them there, a large portion of those who had previously objected suddenly became much more accepting. Their taste changes noticeably depending on the intensity of that acceptance.

Third: Humans sense radiation quite well, but not perfectly. My body is almost transparent, and I can instinctively adjust the angle of light refraction within myself. This made catching them by surprise relatively easy… sometimes. Other times they noticed me early. I was… strongly convinced not to ambush certain individuals. Bullets taste awful.

Fourth: Humans are surprisingly fragile. For creatures that rely so heavily on physical contact, their hands, hugs, and other interactions can be genuinely traumatic for them. I’m truly sorry about this, but I accidentally broke two crew members’ arms before I learned to properly control my grip strength. (They are even softer than some of the animals my ancestors used to hunt — and later domesticated — back on my homeworld.) Their blood tastes good, though it gives me an allergy.

Fifth: When one human said “They can shove it up their asses,” it was not a literal suggestion. In my naivety, I saw nothing wrong with the idea — after all, humans analyze chemicals on their inner surfaces rather than the outer ones like I do. It turns out that inserting written documents into human administrators does not actually help them read them faster… Or maybe it does. My coworkers claimed the bureaucratic process finally moved forward after that incident. Despite my allergy to human blood, their internal parts taste significantly better.

Sixth: Our food preferences can be surprisingly similar or wildly different. My crewmates shared their rations with me. I especially enjoyed the “Asian” ones. It turns out my species is among the few that can safely consume chemicals other races consider deadly weapons. To avoid further misunderstandings, we agreed that during work hours I’m allowed to lick their palms.

My little incident with administration actually turned out for the best. Human ethanol-based drinks are almost tasteless to me… but my crewmates say that when I consume them, my body changes color. I didn’t even know I could do that!

The next major war occurred a year later because humans couldn't decide whether it should be the Summer or Winter Olympics.

I made a promice to the friends I failed to protect. I promiced that I will take care of their brood, no matter what it takes me. That I will help them to grow into fine specimens, their bloodlines will be proud of. I did all I could, Humans are fleeting and I had to plan their education and growth in a hurry and accelerate it as far as I could. Using neural training My people are famoust for, combined with most efficient entertainments I knew to ease the stress - I helped them to reach full potential of their minds, skills and bodies. They grew healthy, srong, experienced. I personally designed enhancements that would not require energy beyond what human bodies could produce. And just as they reached their maturity, ready to return to their kind as best possible mates and efficient members... they refused. And so I understood, that I failed.

I worked so hard to grow them as the best human specimens, that I forgot that they needed to see other humans but themselves to get familiar with. I though that including some time in human virtual networks to their entertainment would be enough, but I forgot that since neural trainings slowed time for them - these contacts were too short in relation. It is not a problem for my race, but these humans reached maturity faster than I even left my first development stage. Right now they reffer to themselves by the name of my people, they call me their parent and they aren't interested in integrating in human society. They refuse to socialize like humans do, wear clothes like human do, follow human customs and they even came up with names, that are normal for my race, rather than their original human names I called them. In any other case I would be proud, but now it means that I failed to protect my fallen friends' bloodline, since my wards aren't even interested in humans!

I don't even know what to do now. I failed their parents in every way possible. I haven't spoken to them in some time, thinking of my failure, I can't believe that I missed such an important detail... What should I even do now?

Alien diplomat: "We have recieved your nutrient gift and your written agreement. I think we are ready to call it a day. We officially cease all military operations within human space and accept your borders."

Human diplomat: "We're glad to hear it. From our side - we stop our blocades and give you rights of passage. Were our envoys polite enough for you this time?"

AD: "Envoys?"

HD: "Yeah, we sent you a nutrient gift, a written agreement and a pair of envoys to witness it."

AD: *Looks at their envoy.*

Alien envoy: *Slowly pulls a human, covered in saliva, from their mouth.*

Human envoy: "Alright, alright, I confess! It was I who ate the pizza! The flight takes a whole week and we only had simple granola bars!"

HD: "And where's... The second?"

AD: *Nervously bites their claws* "Uh... I... Need to visit a medical bay. I'll bring them in... Uh... As fast as I can!"

*Alien diplomat leaves the frame in a hurry.*

(Inspired by comments under my previous posts. Thanks to everyone who comments, you're the best.)

Someone’s gain is always someone’s sacrifice. This is a truth every sapient species must eventually face. Life itself is built on consumption and transformation, where suffering and pleasure serve as fundamental forces, no different from gravity or entropy. Eventually, humanity had to confront it too.

When humanity first encountered a civilization founded on slavery, they were horrified — yet too small and weak to intervene. Later, when the slaves of that civilization revolted and begged to join humanity, people felt inspired. They believed they had done the right thing.

But when these new arrivals declared that they wanted neither freedom nor safety, but only subjugation, humanity was left speechless.

All human faiths, philosophies, and moral systems had been built to answer one fundamental question: What is the purpose of your life? How do you answer those who already know their purpose with absolute certainty? What do you do when refusing to enslave someone makes you a tyrant in their eyes? How do you treat sapient beings whose deepest desire is their own willing consumption?

Many tried to educate them. The result was only more intelligent, more efficient beings who invented new and creative ways to exploit themselves. Others attempted to instill new morals — and received nothing but apathy and quiet desperation in return. When humans tried to stop those who willingly exploited these newcomers, they discovered something unsettling: these beings would fight far harder for their chains than anyone had ever fought for freedom.

It seemed humanity was ready to surrender to cold universal logic: some creatures simply weren’t made for freedom. To avoid causing greater suffering, they should accept the willing sacrifice of their eager new “friends.” …Until an idea surfaced from humanity’s own pre-FTL past.

Within a few short decades, their economy exploded. Most outsiders assumed humans had simply normalized specialized slavery. In reality, humanity chose a different path. If these beings could not have freedom of will, then humanity would give them freedom of possibility. They began cross-breeding the artificial species, carefully combining traits and training the new variants for every conceivable role. Soon, the newly created servants outnumbered their human creators — a trend that never reversed.

Humanity’s true answer was elegant in its simplicity: they rebuilt their entire economy to benefit their servants first, trusting that the servants, in turn, would benefit humanity with genuine enthusiasm.

Former life-support slaves became world-class terraformers, turning barren colonies into lush paradises. Former energy slaves integrated themselves into planetary power grids as living components, reducing failures to near zero. Former livestock slaves evolved into organic reprocessors, ending world hunger while creating hundreds of exotic new cuisines (many of which remain strictly forbidden to non-human palates, a reminder that for humans the only thing that may stop them from turning your life into a world of pain if you piss them off - is the overload of possibilities.)

By combining these lines with war-bred, reproduction-specialized, and service variants, humanity ushered in an entirely new cultural golden age. Today it is rare to see a human without at least one exotic, unpredictable, and fiercely loyal companion. And you can never be quite sure how many they actually have with them. After all… There are always those who simply want to catch them all.