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."
-----
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."
"How the HELL did they do that, Captain? I want an explanation as to why you had failed to destroy that convoy this instant!"
Art designed by me, made by Mabiruna, characters from: Riffwield - A SSC Spinoff | Royal Road
(Tiktok: @mikeyoshea87)
Probing the Probers
Species: Proctonauts
It was late at night and John had the munchies. Upon opening his fridge, he discovered it was being looted by mice. But they weren't normal mice.
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.
Forty percent of the Transterranean Union's population is not human. In fact, for some reason, this species has a habit of adding other intelligent creatures to its nations simply for the pleasure of doing so.
Semi-human races created in laboratories centuries ago, the many animal species they chose to elevate for some reason, creatures native to the planets and moons they colonize, alien refugees, sentient AIs...
It's quite surprising for a species that less than a thousand years ago was killing each other over skin color.
What do you call someone who discriminates against humans?
Humanist doesn't land well with me.
One of the oldest additions of the "re-domestication" initiative - Gigapede.
It's wild counterpart boasts a unique ability to reintegrate severed sections - an adaptation that allows it to discard damaged parts, even if it was in the middle of the body.
Modern iteration of domesticated Gigapede is a modular bio-boosted organism that consists of manned flying control-unit - and myriad of additional simplified organisms that can be attached in various configurations - ranging from "Exodus module" - a long range ground traveling unit that acts as small scale ecosystem that can provide nourishment for thirty people for months without need for external energy sources - to "Flesh ripper module" - a specialised segmented tail-like attachment that is used to restrict and turn gigantic creatures into raw bio-mass.
One control unit can commandeer up to 5 different modules but prolonged running at full capacity risks a burnout of nervous tissue - so must be done with caution.
It usually requires a trained bio-monger operator, but modification for civic usage can be arranged with the permission of the guild.
Overall versatility and robustness of design results in almost universal presence of Gigapedes in human settlements, even thou a smaller breeds may be used in less developed ones.
Alien : "so. We've proven our therapy works on humans. The subjects has not only been healed of all injuries and lingering problems, but they have all the mobility and stength they had in their prime while still having all their current age and experience."
A2: "excellent so the Prince is getting ihos incredibly dumb wish about proving why hes the legendary champion of the arena?"
A1: "of course. I got us ring side seats too. We'll get to watch this in person from the best seats ever. Want to try human made beer? They imported a few brands for it. Think I'll try the Yeungling lager"
A2: "I wouldnt miss this for a super nova. And I want to try that one they nicknamed Bapple."
* several earth days later at the coliseum, a square stage with 3 ropes going around it set up.*
Alien announcer: "males and females, non binaries and those who can choose your gender, of all ages! Please welcome to the ring, weighing in at [324 pounds] standing [7'4] the scourge of ventron 4! The conqueror of the quarthy swarm! The hero of the Ztokronia empire! FROM THE ROYAL CITY, THE HERO, THE FUTURE EMPEROR! THE LEGEND HIMSELF, CROWN PRINCE XORATIAN!"
A being like a cross of a gator and elk raised its arms to the cheers of the crowd. A look of complete confidence on its face
A Announcer: "and his opponent, hailing from the city of Knoxville, in the land of Tennesee, of the planet earth! He has been called the Apex predator! Weighing [275 pounds]! And standing [6'5]!
Fog fills the arena entrance as the announcer is cut off. A voice blasts from the sound system "I HEAR VOICES IN MY HEAD! THEY COUNCIL ME, THEY UNDERSTAND! THEY TALK TO ME"
A2:
“That’s just a radio.”
“Not just any radio. This one allows any officer to call in NGFS, or Naval Gunfire Support. Essentially, you’re one message away from fucking up any enemy position from orbit.”
“Just make sure to get the grid coordinates right…”
For many months now in this grueling war that ground to a stalemate in just 28 Days, you were wondering why your Human Allies didn't seem all that fazed by it. Tonight you got the Answer. They cope:
"Hear the sound of a machinegun
Hear it echo in the night
Mortars firing rains the scene
Scars the fields
That once were green
It’s a stalemate at the frontline
Where the soldiers rest in mud
Roads and houses
All is gone
There is no glory to be won
Know that many men will suffer
Know that many men will die
Half a million lives at stake
At the fields of Passchendaele
And as the night falls the general calls
And the battle carries on and on
What is the purpose of it all?
What’s the price of a mile?
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army on the march
Long way from home
Paying the price in young men’s lives
Thousands of feet march to the beat
It’s an army in despair
Knee-deep in mud
Stuck in a trench with no way out
..."
AN: Yeah, i just wanted an excuse to get this song a bit more attention.
