There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas -  Gramenvora
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the newly discovered world of Gramenvora. The Almagest Mapping Center located Gramenvora about ten years ago, but scientist have just began exploring this new world. We’re going to join these scientists on the surface and find out what they’ve discovered so far.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off at a small camp on the planet’s surface. It’s immediately clear that Gramenvora has life. There’s obviously plant life; I’m surrounded by miles of grasses. But there seems to be other small animals too. Perhaps some of these new animals will turn out to be tasty. Maybe, one day in the future, we will sing the praises of Gramenvora as we feast on delicious Gramenvora cows. I guess I’ll have to wait and see.”

Todd: “Hey, don’t get your hopes up. Most of the herbivores here are too tough and gristly to be used as food, well, at least the ones we’ve catalogued so far. I’m Todd, by the way.”
Doog: “Do you always crush people’s dreams before introducing yourself, Todd?”
Todd: “Only when the science merits it.”
Doog: “So, you’re some sort of meat expert?”
Todd: “I’m a geologist, actually. My studies are related to the mineral content of Gramenvora’s crust. However, we do have a biologist on the crew, and he says that the muscle structures of the native life are not conducive to tasty cheeseburgers.”
Doog: “Well, that’s sad. I guess you guys ought to pack it all up and call this planet a wrap. The great galactic quest for better cheeseburgers must continue on.”
Todd: “Ha, ha. I wish our job was that easy, but we’re here for much more than cheeseburgers. There’s all kinds of economic angles to explore before we call it quits here. Gramenvora won’t be in the meat industry, but we still need to determine its value in other areas, like mining, power generation, or farming.”

Doog: “And you make these determinations from this little camp here? How do you all fit in this tiny structure?”
Todd: “No, no. This camp is for storing excess supplies and for refueling our rover. We call this place, ‘The Leash’, because we can’t travel further than four thousand miles from it. These windmills are our only source of power.”

Doog: “So, wait. You live in the rover?
Todd: “Yep. We eat, sleep, and do our research from the rover. We call her, ‘EATER’, short for eight-wheeled all terrain exploring rover.”
Doog: “Wow, that’s a little better than this little shack, but not by much. Must be pretty cramped.”
Todd: “It can be. Luckily, we spend most of our time outdoors. There’s nothing better than sleeping under the stars.”
Doog: “Have you ever tried sleeping in a bed? I’m pretty sure that’s better. Besides, what if one of these newly discovered animals eats you while you’re sleeping?”

Todd: “That’s not likely. There’s no carnivores on Gramenvora.”
Doog: “None?”
Todd: “Not that we’ve found, and we’ve catalogued hundreds of species. Gramenvora is an herbivores’ paradise.”
Doog: “Shouldn’t there be trillions of animals then? If there’s nothing to eat them, don’t they keep reproducing? I’ve heard of worlds where the LIU has killed off the planet’s predators and they were overrun by prey animals. Their numbers were unchecked.”
Todd: “That’s true of a predator-prey system. Removing one side causes disruptions to the other, but, here on Gramenvora, life evolved in a pure herbivore environment. They evolved in a way that keeps their numbers in check naturally, like slower reproduction, smaller litter sizes, et cetera. You’d be better off asking Phillip, our biologist.”

Todd: “Speaking of which, let me introduce you to the crew. The guy on the scooter is Roman. He’s our mission support specialist. He keeps everything up and running, like the EATER and the windmills.”
Roman: “You break it, I fix it.”
Todd: “The lady in the center is Kathleen. She’s our linguist.”
Kathleen: “Jani joralis, as the Henara people say. Or, if you prefer Basic, nice to meet you!”
Todd: “And, last, but not least, this is Phillip, our astrobiologist.”
Phillip: “Did you know the black creatures running around here are call Squat Hogs? I named them myself.”
Doog: “Uh, nice to meet you all. I have to ask though, why the linguist?”
Kathleen: “You didn’t tell him yet?”
Todd: “I was getting there. Doog, we found sentient life on Gramenvora. Kathleen is here to interpret their language.”
Doog: “A sentient species, here?”
Todd: “Yep. Let’s head out and meet them.”

Phillip: “Gramenvora sports a wide variety of herbivorous creatures. There’s birds and mammals of all shapes and sizes. There’s over two-hundred different species of grass for them to feed on.”
Doog: “Just grasses? Or is there other plant life?”
Phillip: “Mostly grasses, but there’s a few leafy plants too. There’s not adequate rain for larger species.”
Doog: “Hmm, and these sentient beings eat grass too?”
Phillip: “Yep.”

Doog: “Uh…hey…how are you today, sentient creature? Stop eating grass and say something in your language so I can show the viewers.”
Phillip: “Are you talking to a Humongolis? They’re not the sentient species we discovered.”
Doog: “Oh. I thought we were headed out to see this sentient species.”
Todd: “We will, in time. We’d thought we’d stop and check out some of the other native life while we’re on the way.”
Phillip: “Haha. You just conversed with Humongolis.”

Doog: “How was I supposed to know? I mean, most non-sentient animals run away when you approach. This guy is just standing here.”
Phillip: “The species on Gramenvora have no fear of other animals. There’s no predators here.”
Doog: “Oh yeah. I forgot about that. So, can I go up and touch it?”

Humongolis: “GWAAAR!”
Doog: “I’ll take that as a no.”
Phillip: “Most creatures do not exhibit fear of other animals, but they don’t tolerate other animals entering their personal space.”
Doog: “For all you close talkers out there, take note. You probably shouldn’t come to Gramenvora.”
Phillip: “Anyway…the native life here still deals with resource competition. There’s limited grass, especially during the dry season. Many species exhibit aggression when other species come too close to what they are eating.”
Doog: “Food aggression. Happens on my ship all the time. I almost shanked Timbo the other day when he walked past my taco.”
Todd: “That’s similar…I suppose. Well, we better get moving. He’s making his way over here. We’ll be in his aggression bubble if we stay here.”

Doog: “Alright, are these the sentient ones? I don’t want to look like a fool again.”
Todd: “Yes. They should be easy to distinguish from the other species here. You know, by their tools, clothes, jewelry, and homes.”
Doog: “Touché. Got me there. So, what are they called?”
Todd: “We call them the Gramen.”
Doog: “Gramen, huh? And do these Gramen have ‘aggression bubbles’? I see they have spears, I don’t want to get stabbed walking up too close. Wait…why do they have spears if they don’t hunt? Whew, so many questions.”
Todd: “I guess you can feel our pain now. There’s a lot to unravel on a new planet. Firstly, the Gramen do display aggression to any creature that enters their territory. Including us. We’ve had to slowly acquaint them with our presence. We had to earn their trust and show that we are not food competitors. Whatever you do, don’t eat any grass. Not here, at least.”
Doog: “Good thing you warned me, since…you know…I tend to randomly eat grass now and then.”
Todd: “Hey, you never know. As for your second question, the Gramen have spears so they can keep competitor species away from their territory. They protect their food from other species. The Gramen appear to have developed the first stages of agriculture. They’re growing foods that they find more favorable. They too, must be protected. You wouldn’t want a Squat Hog or Humongolis rooting through your crops.”
Doog: “I see.”

Gramen Elder: “Fli li wi ki, Katli.”
Kathleen: “Fli lo wi ko, Si Li.”
Doog: “She understands this gibberish?”
Todd: “Some of it. The Gramen language is based on melodies and pitch, in addition to actual words. So, there’s a limited vocabulary, but endless ways to say each word.”
Doog: “Sounds hard, I would have already given up.”

Kathleen: “Si Li, gi ti lo mi, LIU?”
Gramen Elder: “Li Ui?
Kathleen: “Ni, LIU.”
Gramen Elder: “LIU?”
Kathleen: “Yi! Shi mo pi so zi!”
Doog: “If anyone wants to jump in with some translations here, feel free.”
Todd: “In addition to learning their language, we are trying to teach them ours. It appears they possess the correct anatomical features to speak Basic. There are some major differences in the languages though. It may be difficult.”

Todd: “Uh, Doog. How about you take a few steps back? Remember the food aggression thing. You’re awfully close to their crops.”
Doog: “Oh, sorry.”
Gramen Elder: “So ri? SO RI!”
Kathleen: "Ni! Ni! Bo li ro ki, Mi li, lo di di. Doog, please avoid using words in Basic that end with the long ‘e’ sound. The Gramen confuse it as their own language. Take special care not to use that apologetic word you said earlier. It means something entirely different in Gramen.”
Doog: “Whoops. Sorry. I mean…uh…I apologize.”
Gramen Elder: “SO RI!”

Todd: “Maybe we should come over here for a bit. Let Kathleen cool things off for a while.”
Doog: “That’s a good idea. So, what do we have here?”
Todd: “This is one of the first mysteries we encountered on Gramen. At first, we thought the Gramens were decorating their home with precious rocks that they found, but it is a LOT more sophisticated than that.”
Doog: “How so?”
Todd: “Well, I went to move one of the rocks, and it wouldn’t budge. Turns out that these rocks are long cylinders that go about 100 feet into the ground. Like an iceberg, you’re just seeing the tip of these structures.”
Doog: “Why bury stones so deep?”
Todd: “Well, that way, they don’t move. They are meant to be in this exact formation. They are a picture of something.”
Doog: “I don’t really see any patterns or a picture. What are they supposed to be?”

Todd: “If you were to look at the stones from above, they make this.”
Doog: “Is that a constellation or something?”

Todd: “Yes, it is. At first, we thought it was just normal behavior from a pre-industrial species. The constellation might have been in the sky during a particular event, and they now worshipped it. Many cultures adore and worship the stars in the sky. But there’s one problem here…”
Doog: “What’s that?”
Todd: “We can’t find this constellation in Gramenvora’s night sky. We even accounted for star movements over the centuries. This exact constellation has never been in the sky of this planet.”

Doog: “So, it’s not a constellation after all?”
Todd: “That’s the craziest part. It is a constellation, just not on this world.”
Doog: “What? How is that possible?”
Todd: “That’s the same thing we thought, but this exact collection of stars, background stars and all, was seen from the Cinerous System about ten thousand years ago. There’s no mistaking it. Every star would have been in the exact location seen here. There’s more too. The center star of this constellation is Pratum, which is Gramenvora’s star.”
Doog: “I’m so confused. How is this possible?! Did someone come here from the Cinerous System?”
Todd: “We checked the Cinerous System. The star there tuned into a red giant and burned all its planets to ashes. We can date the event back to approximately ten thousand years ago.”
Doog: “So, whoever fled that system came to Gramenvora?”
Todd: “That’s the theory.”
Doog: “Was it the Gramen? Were all Gramenvora’s species transplanted here from Cinerous?”
Todd: “That was an early theory, but it didn’t pan out. New evidence came to light that changed everything.”

Todd: “If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you what we found.”
Doog: “Heck yeah, I’ll come. This is turning out to be quite the mystery. I’m kind of having fun with this.”
Todd: “Glad you’re enjoying yourself. Ok, we’ll leave the EATER here for the rest of my team. We’ll take the BART to the next site.”
Doog: “The BART?”
Todd: “The Back-up and Reconnaissance Truck. The BART’s primary duty is to act as an emergency back-up vehicle. Say the EATER runs out of fuel and we’re stranded. The BART can be remotely activated to come to the EATER. Then someone can go back to Camp Leash for fuel. When it’s not rescuing us, the BART video maps the surface of Gramenvora.”
Doog: “Sounds cool and all, but the mystery of the BART is not quite as exciting as the whole alien visitor thing we have going on. Let’s keep on track.”

Todd: “I told you about BART because it discovered an anomaly while video mapping this canyon.”
Doog: “What? Where?”
Todd: “Under your feet.”
Doog: “Oh, wow. I see it now. My belly gets in the way on occasion…err…I mean muscles. My muscles make it hard to bend over. Yeah.”
Todd: “Yes, of course…muscles. Well, let’s head down and check it out from a better angle. You know…where your muscles won’t be an impediment.”

Todd: “The low-res scans from the Almagest Mapping Center indicated that there was a canyon on Gramenvora, but it didn’t make sense. There’s no other indications of river erosion or plate tectonics anywhere else on the planet. As a geologist, I was excited to get to Gramenvora to unlock this mystery. BART beat me to the punch when it found this. Turns out that this canyon wasn’t formed naturally. It’s an impact scar.”
Doog: “It’s where our mystery guests landed, isn’t it?”
Todd: “Right again. And, smack dab in the middle of this scar is this temple entrance.”
Doog: “So, the temple wasn’t made by the Gramen, it was made by whoever landed here.”
Todd: “Indeed. If you pay attention to some of the temple’s carvings, you’ll see carved animals that never existed on Gramenvora.”
Doog: “I see. That’s some undeniable evidence there.”

Todd: “This device is a puzzle that locks and unlocks the temple.”
Doog: “You solved it?”
Todd: “Actually, it was Kathleen. Apparently, she’s a linguist and an expert puzzle solver.”
Doog: “How did she solve it?”
Todd: “The puzzle consists of eight levers that correspond to a section of the night sky. You must rotate the star map to place the various stars and nebulae into the correct section of sky before pulling the levers. It’s not too difficult once you understand the concept. But, the device gives us another clue about the visitors.”
Doog: “What’s that?”
Todd: “Well, the night sky changes over time. Stars shift. According to the star positions in this puzzle, the visitors were here about eight thousand years ago.”
Doog: “Wait, if the Cinerous System was destroyed ten thousand years ago, how did they only arrive here eight thousand years ago. It took them two thousand years to get here?”
Todd: “Tells you something about their level of technology, doesn’t it? Apparently, they didn’t develop hyperspace travel.” 

Todd: “Come on, the mystery gets clearer once we enter the temple.”

Todd: “The visitors cut shafts into the temple’s walls to allow surface light to enter these tunnels. These crystal globes reflect and disperse the light. They are made of a material not found on Gramenvora, further indicating that something came here from off world.”
Doog: “It also tells us the visitors were terrible decorators.”

Doog: “So, it’s all true. All the answers are in here. Another race arrived on Gramenvora from the Cinerous System.
Todd: “Yep. There’s skeletal remains of this unknown species, examples of their writing systems, and even a section of their ship.”
Doog: “Their ship? Is that the red thing straight ahead?”
Todd: “Yep. It appears a section of their ship survived the crash. It’s covered by rock and debris, but largely intact. We’ve learned a lot about the visitors from exploring around in there.”
Doog: “Can I go in?”
Todd: “In a bit, there’s more to see out here first.”

Todd: “This is Tom. He’s an archeologist on loan from the Meditor Institute. He’s in charge of studying the visitors.”
Tom: “Please, call them the Cinerans. We’ve pretty much confirmed that they originated from the Cinerous System.”
Doog: “What have you learned about the Cinnamons so far?”
Tom: “We’ve learned a lot. They left a lot behind to aid us as well.”
Doog: “Like what?”

Tom: “Like this beauty carved on the wall over here. We call it the Language Index.”
Doog: “What is it?”
Tom: “If my calculations are correct, it’s a sentence written in both Gramen and Cineran. It’s the key to unlocking the Cineran language.”
Doog: ‘Huh?”
Todd: “Doog, if Kathleen can learn the Gramen language, then she can use this script to learn some of the Cineran language.”
Tom: “And, if we learn the Cineran language, we can translate some of the documents and computer files we found in the wreckage. We can learn more and more about the Cineran Race.”

Doog: “That’s one of the Cinerans there?”
Tom: “Yes. It appears that only two Cinerans survived the crash. Early biological evidence indicates that the two survivors were of the same sex.”
Doog: “They made it here, but they couldn’t reproduce.”
Tom: “Even if they could, two individuals does not give enough genetic variety to survive in a sustainable manner. But, yes. We think their race went extinct when these two died.”
Todd: “They made use of the time they had here though. It’s clear that they met with the Gramen. They may have even passed on certain knowledge and skills. As we learn more from the Gramen, we learn more about the Cinerans.”
Doog: “So this place isn’t a temple. It’s a tomb. It’s the final resting place of their species.”

Todd: ‘That’s one way to look at it. Come on, let’s head into the ship.”
Tom: “Try to be careful too. I don’t want anything disturbed. I’m still photographing everything.”

Doog: “What are these?”
Tom: “Right now, we’re guessing they’re stasis tanks. The Cinerans didn’t have hyperspace abilities, so they needed to place themselves in stasis to make the two-thousand-year trip.”
Todd: “Phillip did some primary examinations of the bones. It looks like many of the Cinerans died in transit. Their stasis technology probably wasn’t ready for this type of journey. With their sun expanding and doom on their doorstep, they didn’t have much time to throw this colony ship together.”

Tom: “They made a leap to save their species, but just fell short. It was a good attempt. With their limited technology, they managed to get two members of their race onto a planet seven hundred and fifty light years away.”
Todd: “And, they started this journey ten thousand years ago. That makes them the galaxy’s first interstellar travelers outside of the Progenitors. If they would have survived, they’d likely be the most powerful race in the galaxy…well, if they continued to develop at that speed.”

Doog: “I wonder what they looked like and sounded like. I wonder what those last two individuals had to feel like, knowing that their species had come to an end. I wonder what kind of taco recipes that may have gone extinct alongside them. There’s lots to ponder.”
Todd: “That’s why we’re here. We’re unraveling the mysteries bit by bit.”
Doog: “Well, keep up the good work. Keep me updated on the extinct taco situation.”

Doog: “Well folks, Gramenvora is a fascinating place. The world is really the story of two civilizations: one that is just now emerging into the galaxy, and one that has unfortunately come to an end. Both, hopefully, have something to add to this galaxy. And... I hope it’s tacos. Oh well, see ya!

Note:

Gramen: “Li li do pi?”
Cineran: “Yi, chi ko si do li.”
Gramen: “So ri.”
Cineran: “So ri.” 

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty
CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 3 - Suci Sabulum

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas -  Gurgustio
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to Season Nine of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Gurgustio. Gurgustio was once one of the galaxy’s premier industrial worlds, but it has since fallen on hard times. Worlds with cheaper labor, better access to hyperspace routes, and more abundant minerals have taken much of Gurgustio’s business. Production here is at an all-time low. Those who could afford to leave, have left the planet, while the remaining population scrapes by working whatever limited shifts they can find. Recently, however, Gurgustio’s economy has experienced a slight uptick. We’re here to find out why.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off outside an apartment complex called Hovel 8C. 8C is one of a few dozen concrete structures built by the LIU to house Gurgustio’s workers. These complexes are overcrowded, and they are in major disrepair. The LIU has invested little money in upkeeping these complexes now that Gurgustio’s economy is failing.”

Doog: “Standing here amongst the squalor, I feel I need to keep my head on a swivel. This guy here does not want to get shanked. I guess I’ll wait here for my guide, because there’s no way I’m headed inside this building.”

Jane: “Hey, you must be Doog, I’m Jane.”
Doog: “Don’t shank me! I don’t have any money!”
Jane: “Uh, ok. Since you said so.”
Doog: “Wait…Jane. You’re my guide, right?”
Jane: “Yes. I see you followed my instructions to dress down. The grease on your shirt looks perfect.”
Doog: “Uh…. yeah…. your instructions. I totally followed them. I dressed like a slob… on purpose. And the whole grease thing…was not related to the tacos I consumed prior to landing.”
Jane: “Well, purposeful or not, you look like you’ll blend in here.”

Doog: “Yeah, I hope so. This doesn’t look like a place where you would want to stand out.”
Jane: “Yeah. Even before the economy failed, Gurgustio wasn’t the safest place. Like most industrial worlds in the galaxy, Gurgustio has suffered from low wages, lack of education, and substandard housing. It’s just worse now that the economy has changed.”
Doog: “Changed how? I heard things were improving here.”
Jane: “The economy is changing, but not necessarily improving. Gurgustio used to be a major exporter of various chemicals, but now that production is dropping, its economy has evolved. Some of its infrastructure is being used in ways that was not intended. The technical term for this phenomenon is “gray market”.”
Doog: “Grey market?”
Jane: “Not quite black market, because the new economy isn’t technically illegal. It’s sort of in a gray area.”

Doog: “Looking around this courtyard, I can see gambling, weapons, drugs. Doesn’t look all that gray to me. This looks to be a black market.”
Jane: “If you want to get technical, those things would be considered black market, but they’re not new. These problems have always been prevalent here. Low wage workers looking to drown their sorrows brought drugs to Gurgustio a long time ago. Drugs brought weapons, gangs, and even gambling. Not all people on industrial worlds are bad, but the conditions here tend to breed some unsavory individuals.”
Doog: “Why haven’t the police stepped in?”

Jane: “Haha. The police in the LIU don’t get involved in social issues. They protect the LIU’s assets. Besides, most of them don’t want to be here anymore than the poor workers. They’re looking to save up enough money so they can leave too. On Gurgustio, the police can be bought.”
Doog: “Ok, poor people, drugs, corrupt police, all point to a criminal world with a big black market. I’ve seen planets like that before. Where is this gray economy?”
Jane: “Not here, but I wanted you to see the conditions here. They play an important role in the new economy. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Jane: “The majority of the planet’s chemical plants sit idle. Most of Gurgustio’s natural resources have been exhausted, and Gurgustio can’t afford to import much. The little production occurring here is based on the few remaining natural resources. I’d say to ten years, the whole chemical side of Gurgustio’s economy will collapse. Luckily, the gray market is stepping up and filling some of the voids.”
Doog: “What’s your job here? Do you work in the chemical plants?”

Jane: “I worked in the chemical industry for a bit. Mostly, I was involved in shipping chemicals off world. I’ve been laid off for almost five years.”
Doog: “So, this isn’t a costume for you. You’re really this poor? No offense intended.”
Jane: “None taken. This is a costume. I’ve been out of the chemical business, but I’m employed in the planet’s new industry. I’m a runner.”
Doog: “Runner? Like you do marathons? Much respect, I couldn’t run to save my life, although I don’t see why the LIU would pay you for it.”
Jane: “No, runner like I transport customers on and off world. I make runs.”
Doog: “Well, that’s confusing. What is this new economy?”

Criminal: “Give me your credits rich microphone guy! Or I’ll cut that pretty face off! I could use another face!”
Doog: “You think I’m pretty? Well, that’s a first.”
Criminal: “NOW! You think I’m joking around!”
Doog: “Uh…please don’t. I don’t want any trouble. Please, I have no credits. Look at the grease stains on my shirt. What kind of guy with money would have that!”
Criminal: “They smell like taco stains! You must be really rich! That’s it. Your face is getting CUT!”
Doog: “Ok, ok. You got me. I have lots of credits. But…I gave them all to this lady. She’s a runner. Real rich too. You want to rob her, not me!”
Jane: “Wow, thanks Doog. Very brave of you to pawn the robber off on me.”
Doog: “Priorities, Jane, priorities.”

Jane: “Luckily, this lady has a modified DuBreuil Mark 9. The round will literally burn through your head. I hear that you can smell your own flesh burning right before you expire.”
Criminal: “I…uh…sorry. Hard times…don’t kill me.”
Doog: “Yeah. Mark 9. I knew that. That’s why I said what I said…”

Doog: “So, where were we?”
Jane: “We’re just going to pretend you didn’t pawn off a crazed robber on me.”
Doog: “Did I? I was just…uh…buying time to make my move. Hope I didn’t scare you.”
Jane: “Yeah, I bet. Come on, we’re headed inside the building under the train tracks. Try not to get me murdered on the way.”

Doog: “So what do we have here?”
Jane: “Most of Gurgustio’s gray economy revolves around an industry known GUMP. There’s more money running through GUMP than any chemical plant.”
Doog: “Gump? What’s gump?”
Jane: “It’s an acronym, GUMP stands for Gurgustio’s Unapproved Medical Procedures.”
Doog: “What?”
Jane: “Gurgustio had a rather large medical industry prior to its economic downfall. It was essential for keeping a stable workforce in the dangerous chemical industry. Of course, now that labor is no longer in demand, the LIU has abandoned these facilities.”
Doog: “They don’t look abandoned to me.”
Jane: “Exactly. They’ve been put to another use. GUMP.”
Doog: “I’m not grasping the whole gump thing. What’s an unapproved medical procedure?”
Jane: “The LIU lists some medical procedures as unapproved, meaning that they do not meet Universal Safety Protocols. If they took place in actual registered hospitals, the LIU could be fined. However, in an informal setting like this, the LIU doesn’t really care either way. In other words, this place is neither legal, nor illegal.”
Doog: “It’s in a gray area.”
Jane: “Yep”.

Doog: “So, these aren’t real doctors?”
Jane: “Depends on what you mean by real. None of the doctors here are officially licensed, so I guess they are not true doctors.  They are capable though, despite their lack of proper credentials.”
Doog: “Seems…dangerous.”
Jane: “Not usually. Most have full training, but if they got officially licensed, they wouldn’t be able to legally perform unapproved procedures.”
Doog: “What kind of ‘unapproved procedures’ are we talking about?”
Jane: “Lots of stuff: body manipulations, cybernetics, trans-species transplants, identity changes, et cetera.”

Doctor: “So, you want a change to your face?”
Patient: “Yeah, I’m trying to hide from some debt collectors.”
Doctor: “Please, no need to elaborate. It’s better that I don’t know too much. Alright. First step of face change means making it moldable. It’s hammer time.”
Patient: “Wait! Don’t I get anesthetized first!”
Doctor: “Oh. Yes. I always forget that step. One moment.”
Doog: “Seems legit…said no one ever.”
Jane: “Come on, let’s see some more.”

Doog: “Are you sure it’s safe to just walk into these rooms? Aren’t they supposed to be sterile?”
Jane: “This guy is getting his organs replaced with pig organs. I think it is safe to say, contamination is the least of his worries.”
Doog: “WHAT! Why would anyone do that!?”
Jane: “Trans-species transplantation are unapproved, mostly because of the high rejection rates. But, sometimes, certain species are compatible. It might be cheaper than getting organs from his own species. Maybe he likes pigs. I don’t know.”
Doctor: “Um, excuse me. If you came for the leftover pig parts, please come back at the end of the day. We give nothing away until then. Then, it’s bacon for everyone…unless, of course, I can interest you in a transplant? Would you like a pig spleen?”
Doog: “Uh…no thanks. But I’ll be back for bacon.”

Jane: “Cybernetics is the largest, most profitable industry within GUMP. Thousands of people come to Gurgustio every year for cybernetic procedures.”
Doog: “Wait, I didn’t know cybernetics were unapproved. I see them in use all the time.”
Jane: “Cybernetics are completely legal and approved in many circumstances. Especially when they help maintain quality of life. If you lose an arm, it’s legal to get a cybernetic one. However, if you just want a cyborg arm for punching people harder, you have to come to a place like Gurgustio.”
Doog: “So, non-medical cybernetics?”
Jane: “Yeah.”

Assistant: “Uh…Dr. Hackmar, I think we screwed up. I’m almost certain this guy wanted his right arm replaced.”
Hackmar: “It’s a MISHAP! Oh well, what difference does it make? Right, left, same difference. They guy’s going to have an awesome cyborg arm.”
Assistant: “Yes. It’s just that humans are not ambidextrous. He might be mad.”
Hackmar: “Hmm. Perhaps we just drill into his head and call it a loss.”
Assistant: “Nah, too much paperwork. Maybe we give him two cyborg arms and charge him double?”
Hackmar: “It’s a STOPGAP! But let’s do it.”

Doog: “That’s why I fear going to doctor.”
Jane: “Technically, they’re not doctors. But…I can’t argue otherwise.”

Jane: “In addition to fees collected for various medical services, GUMP also makes a lot of money in the organ trade. Body parts or organs removed during transplantations and cybernetic procedures are saved. Sometimes they are sold off world, sometimes they go to other patients within the GUMP facility.”
Doog: “These procedures must cost an arm and a leg. Get it?”
Jane: “Yeah…I get it. Anyway, the organ business is aided by the fact the Gurgustio has so many poor residents.”
Doog: “How so?”

Jane: “Because, here in the GUMP facility, the poor can sell their organs.”
Doog: “Don’t they need their organs…to live?”
Jane: “To varying degrees. There’s some organs you can live without.”

Doog: “Still, they must be desperate.”
Jane: “Most are desperate to leave Gurgustio. Their organs may be their only way to afford to leave. Some are more desperate than others though. Remember the guy getting the pig organs?”
Doog: “That’s sort of hard to forget.”
Jane: “Well, more than likely, he agreed to sell his perfectly healthy organs for cash, then bought cheaper pig organs. He’ll use the profits to get off world.”
Doog: “So, that’s what makes the GUMP so profitable. It cashes in on the poor residents trying to leave Gurgustio.”
Jane: “More or less.”

Doog: “I wonder what organs I could do without. Maybe I can make a little cash while I’m here.”
Jane: “If you have a spare kidney, looks like they’re now paying double.”
Doog: “Yeah…I’m remembering the whole cybernetics operation from earlier. I’ll go to sleep and wake up with no kidneys…a probably a pig heart. No thanks.”

Doog: “Well folks, what can I say. Gurgustio is a less than ideal place. The fall of its traditional industry has caused its economy to evolve. While it once dealt in chemicals, it now deals in unapproved medical procedures and the organ trade. If you’re in the market for some cyborg enhancements, new organs, new faces, or any other shady medical procedure, well, Gurgustio is the place for you. Just make sure you bring enough cash to get off world, otherwise, you might have to sell your organs. Oh well, I’m going to see if that bacon is available yet. See ya!”

Note: “GUMP is now running a two for one special. Sell any two organs and get a free replacement organ of lesser or equal value. No coupons are stackable with this deal.”

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty
CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 2 - Gramenvora

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas -  Jaculus
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to the season finale of Season 8 of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the water world of Jaculus, which orbits the pulsar, Iaculus. The Iaculus System, including Jaculus, rests at the confluence of two major hyperspace routes: the Meteon Trade Corridor and the Corcot Run.  Besides being well positioned, the system also has another advantage, its star. The fast spinning Iaculus offers a huge gravity assist to ships entering hyperspace, which conserves time and fuel. These advantages have turned Jaculus into one the LIU’s largest trade and cargo worlds.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off in Jaculus’ only city, Colubrí. Colubrí is a multi-tiered megacity near Jaculus’ north pole. Colubrí is a diverse, multi-cultural city. The native Jaculan race only constitute about fifty percent of Jaculus’ population. The rest is comprised of alien races from across the galaxy. This population is constantly changing as most of it consists of travelers and cargo haulers. There is one unexpected resident here, and he’s our guide for today. May I introduce my old college buddy, Krix “Goob” Jagoober.”

Goob: “Is there a weight limit on this bay? How are you here?”
Doog: “What? Is the Magellan too big?’
Goob: “No, dummy, I’m commenting on your beer belly.”
Doog: “Oh, in that case, shut your gelatinous, mollusk mouth.”
Goob: “Haha. How have you been?”
Doog: “Better than you, I suppose. I heard the Meteon Kingdom broke away in the ‘Revolution’. I thought you might have died or been imprisoned.”
Goob: “Yeah. That wasn’t a good time for my people. The decision to revolt was made by the higher-ups in Meteo society, but we all paid the price. I spent about a year pleading my case in an Undique Station. Luckily for me, I wasn’t involved in the Revolution. I was here on Jaculus the whole time.”
Doog: “Why were you on Jaculus?”

Goob: “Why not? Jaculus was where I was born and raised.”
Doog: “Really? I thought you’d be from one of those Udo worlds within the Meteon Kingdom.”
Goob: “Well technically speaking, I was. At one point in history, Jaculus was called Udo Jaculus.”
Doog: “Jaculus used to be part of the kingdom?”
Goob: “Yep. Way before I was born though. Many say the Meteon Kingdom lost the Mid-Rim Unification War due to the fall of Udo Mel, but the experts know that the real reason we lost the war was due to loss of Udo Jaculus.”
Doog: “How so?”

Goob: “Udo Jaculus sits at the end of the MTC. Its loss disconnected the Meteon Kingdom from the rest of the galaxy. It essentially created a blockade.”
Doog: “MTC…oh, you mean the Meteon Trade Corridor?”
Goob: “Yeah, it’s the hyperspace route that connects all the worlds in the kingdom. Prior to the loss of Udo Jaculus, cargo from all the Meteon Worlds came here to be shipped out to the rest of the galaxy.”
Doog: “So, when it fell to the LIU, the kingdom lost its ability to trade to other worlds.”
Goob: “Yep. And don’t forget, it also gave the LIU’s military forces access to the kingdom. Jaculus acted as a staging point during the war.”

Doog: “Wow, I always heard that Udo Mel was the first world to fall during the war. I never even heard of Udo Jaculus.”
Goob: “Well, what you heard was right. Udo Mel was the first to fall during the war. That’s because Udo Jaculus fell to the LIU before the war.”
Doog: “How? Were they forced? Tricked?”
Goob: “Nope. They voluntarily left the kingdom and joined the LIU. The Jaculans knew they had a profitable world, and they felt they were being undervalued by the kingdom. The Jaculans delivered the greatest backstab in galactic history.”
Doog: “I’d say. So, why live here then? 

Goob: “The fall of Jaculus made war with the LIU inevitable. Everyone knew it was coming. Many of my people fled to Jaculus and voluntarily became LIU citizens, including my ancestors. They knew the kingdom couldn’t stand up to the ever-growing LIU. Two years later, the Mid-Rim Unification War proved them right. The kingdom fell to the LIU. Millions died.”
Doog: “Makes sense.”
Goob: “Yep. Jaculus is home to the largest diaspora of Meteo people in the galaxy.”
Doog: “Backstabbing aside, this doesn’t look like too bad of a place to grow up.”

Goob: “Yeah, it’s not too bad. It could be worse, I could have grown up in a dilapidated, shanty town like Orsa.”
Doog: “Hey, Orsa isn’t a shanty town! I mean, it’s not as big as Colubrí, but it has way more charm.”
Goob: “Speaking of charm, how’s your grandma. I miss that lady. Is she still single?”
Doog: “Like you’d ever have a chance. Speaking of chances, how’s your sister? I’d like to give her a good backstabbing.”
Goob: “Haha. Always the wordsmith.”
Doog: “So, what can you tell us about Jaculus?”
Goob: “Well, take a look around. It’s a bustling, fast-moving town. There’s everything a traveler or hauler needs: lodging, food, supplies, and ship parts. There’s lawyers to settle trade disputes and offices to issue shipping permits. It’s a classic port town.”

Doog: “One thing I notice is that everything looks new.”
Goob: “Yep…because most of it is new. Colubrí has been rebuilt several times since transferring its allegiance to LIU. It’s always being upgraded and expanded. I left Colubrí to go to school and then to work on Udo Messis. When I returned, I hardly recognized the place.”

Doog: “There’s lots of hovercars here. You don’t see that very often, at least in the cities I’ve visited.”
Goob: “Yep. That’s one advantages of living in a newer town.”
Doog: “How so?”

Goob: “Well, older cities weren’t really built for hovercars, so they’re dangerous to use. There’s no real systems to maintain hover traffic. Hovercars were already around when Colubrí was being built, so there’s systems in place for their use. Like hoverways that go under the city.”
Doog: “Ah, cool.”

Doog: “I like the digital billboards too. I could watch this shampoo commercial all day.”
Goob: “Maybe it’s because I am hairless, but I don’t get it. What’s so great about shampoo?”
Doog: “I’m not looking at the shampoo dummy. There’s a hot chick.”
Goob: “Yep, still doesn’t do anything for me.”

Goob: “Large portions of the city are devoted to cargo. There’s thousands of landing bays and warehouses. Colubrí is a level four port, meaning it can handle all but the largest cargo ships.”

Doog: “Those workers there…are they the Jaculans?”
Goob: “Yep. Sure are.”
Doog: “What are they wearing on their faces?”
Goob: “Respirators, the Jaculans cannot breathe the air here.”
Doog: ‘They can’t breathe the air here? How? Isn’t this their planet? Did they evolve with the respirators on their faces?”
Goob: “Wow, settle down there. The Jaculans breathe water. They are an aquatic species.”
Doog: “Oh.”

Goob: “They hardly ever return to the water now. Respirators and moisture-control clothing keep them above water almost permanently. I guess it’s necessary; it would be hard to have any meaningful interaction with the rest galaxy if they stayed underwater.”

Goob: “The Jaculans handle most of the cargo operations on Colubrí.”
Doog: “This place is intense. There’s a lot going on. Stuff flying everywhere. What are those gray things hauling containers?”

Goob: “They’re Jaculan Elevator Cranes. They haul cargo containers into space so it can be loaded into larger ships that can’t land on Jaculus.”
Doog: “Seems smart.”

Doog: “Alright, let’s get out of this cargo district. I’m getting bored.”
Goob: “Yeah, me too. But don’t worry, it gets better from here.”
Doog: “I see that. And smell it too.”

Goob: “Colubrí’s food district has some of the best restaurants in the galaxy. You can find just about anything you like here.”
Doog: “I don’t recognize most of these foods, but they all smell delicious.”

Goob: “Well, you’re in luck. Lunch is on me.”
Doog: “Really?!”
Goob: “Yep, but there’s one condition. You must try something new. No pony soup or tacos or kaadu burgers.”
Doog: “Ok, fine. Let’s try this place up ahead. They sell something called Pizza. Sounds interesting.”
Goob: “Nice try. I know you know pizza. Remember, I went to college with you. Your arteries are 90% clogged with pizza grease.”

Doog: “Ok, fine. But I’m not trying whatever those things are. They look like old kitchen sponges.”
Goob: “Yeah, that’s Muuktu. It might look like a kitchen sponge, but it tastes like a bathroom sponge. Let’s find something else.”

Goob: “Here, let’s try this place. I heard they have the best Spiced Muga.”
Doog: “What the heck is Spiced Muga?”
Goob: “It’s was originally a Meteo dish, but it has been modified by the different cultures here. The Meteo version is a vegetable medley with a spicy sauce. I don’t know what this version will be like.”
Doog: “So, if is a Meteo dish, it has no meat, right?”
Goob: “Yep.”
Doog: “Pass. I’ll try this Jagaroni thing.”
Goob: “Did you pick that because it was the most expensive?”
Doog: “Partially. Also, because the guy down on the end is eating some, and it smells pretty good.”

Goob: “Well, how is it?”
Doog: “It’s not half bad.”
Goob: “See, trying new stuff isn’t always bad. Meow is it?”
Doog: “No, it’s not.”
Goob: “Meow finish up your meal and I’ll spring for dessert too.”
Doog: “Why do you keep saying meow instead of now? Are you having a stroke?”
Goob: “Haha.”
Doog: “Wait…. are you telling me Jagaroni is made with cat meat? Aw, man. Gross.”
Goob: “Oh come on, you were enjoying it before you knew what it was. I didn’t pay eight credits for you to toss it either. Meow finish it up.”
Doog: “I hate you sometimes…”

Doog: “What’s for dessert? Squirrel testicles or something? I’m not eating dessert if I don’t know what it is.”
Goob: “Haha. Nope. Just some simple ice cream.”
Doog: “Ice cream made from what?”
Goob: “Ferlofian Mushrooms. It’s called Ferf Ferf.”
Doog: “Count me out.”
Goob: “Ferf Ferf has some mild hallucinogens. It’s legal too.”
Doog: “I’m back in.”

Doog: “Well folks, Jaculus is an important and interesting place. The choices made by the native Jaculan race, including leaving the Meteon Kingdom, helped shape the galaxy. Now, Jaculus serves as a shipping nexus within the LIU Galaxy. With its diverse population, it also serves as a cultural nexus. It’s a large melting pot of several different cultures. Well, I have some Ferf Ferf calling my name. See ya next season!

Note:

Recipe for Jagaroni

½ pound of shredded cat
¼ pound of cat livers
 2 cups of noodles

Spice cat meat to taste. Cook over medium heat until meat turns a dark pink. Add to prepared noodles. Grind cat livers and sprinkle over top. Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes. Serve warm. 

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty
CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 9 - Episode 1 - Gurgustio

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas - Telum Texeris
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the small, warm world of Telum Texeris. Despite its small size, this agricultural planet plays an important role in the galaxy. Let’s head down and find out why.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off outside a large house on the planet’s surface. I believe one of the people standing on the porch is my guide, but I’m sort of afraid to go up there. There’s some giant dogs guarding the way. I’m not usually scared of dogs, but these things are literally the size of a small horse. Like, eat-me-in-one-bite big.”

Madame: “Don’t be scared, Darlin’. The dogs are well trained. They won’t attack unless prompted.”
Daddy: “And we ain’t gonna prompt em on a non-bughead, so dontcha worry.”
Madame: “Daddy! Bughead is not the preferred nomenclature. Besides, I’ve heard that you’ve cozied up to quite a few ‘bugheads’ in your time. So, you have no room to talk.”
Daddy: “Lies! Lies! I wouldn’t touch a bughead with a fitty foot pole.”
Madame: “That’s not what momma told me, bless her soul.”
Daddy: “I could be drunker than a three-eyed spider and I’d never…”
Doog: “Uh…I don’t want to interrupt, but I’m a little confused. Am I safe to approach? What’s a bughead? And did you say something about spiders? I don’t do spiders.”

Madame: “Oh, listen to us…blathering on. Of course, it’s safe to approach. And don’t pay no attention to daddy. He’s an old coot. I’m Madame Caroline, by the way. Now that Daddy’s reached old age, I run the family plantation.”
Doog: “Hey, I’m Doog. Nice to meet you. So, not to change the subject, but where are we on the whole spider situation? I heard your dad say something about spiders.”
Madame: “Oh hon, it’s just an expression, there’s no spiders here.”
Doog: “Whew. Thank the Emperor. Wait…he mentioned bugheads too. That’s not a code word for giant insects, is it? I don’t do insects either.”
Daddy: “Hehe, the outta towner thinks them bugheads are real insects. That’s classic.”
Madame: “Shhh Daddy. Doog, ‘bughead’ is a derogatory term given the workers we’ve imported here. Only the older generation uses it. Some of us have a little more refinement.”
Doog: “Imported workers? What do you guys grow on your plantation that requires imported workers?”

Madame: “You mean you don’t know? I thought everyone in the galaxy knew. We grow Texeris. It’s even in our planet’s name.”
Doog: “What’s Texeris?”
Madame: “Oh come on, now you’re just pulling my leg. Texeris, aka Fire Crier, aka Tree Spaghetti.”
Doog: “Yeah…I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Madame: “It’s a species of hanging moss grown for it’s strong aramid fibers.”
Doog: “What’s arid men?”
Madame: “There sure is a lot that you don’t know.”
Doog: “Wow, thanks. It’s comforting that someone just came out and said it for once. Just explain things to me like you would to a child. And, keep in mind, I’m still probably going to have lots of questions. Now, give me the scoop on arid men fibers. I’m picturing some type of strings hanging off a man in a desert.”

Madame: “Oh Darlin’, you’re way off. It’s aramid, not arid men. Aramids are a type of polymer that are extremely strong and resistant to fire. It’s in use all over the galaxy. You’ll find it in body armor, spaceship insulation, space suits…all kinds of stuff. That’s why I figured you’d heard of it.”
Doog: “I can’t say that I have. I’m not big on researching what materials are in the things I use though. Maybe I’m just an exception.”
Madame: “I would hope so. Well, would you like a tour? It’s the best way to learn about Texeris.”
Doog: “Sure. Let’s tour it up. Wait…did we ever get to the bottom of the spider, giant insect thing?”
Madame: “No spiders, no giant insects.”
Doog: “Alright, good. That’s what I thought you said.”

Doog: “What’s this?”
Madame: “These are some of the Imported Worker Quarters.”
Doog: “They seem awfully small and packed together. I mean, I know your family owns the plantation, but your house was like a hundred times bigger than these.”
Madame: “Smaller…yes, but plenty adequate for two families to live comfortably.”
Doog: “Two families live in these? Geez, that’s even worse.”
Madame: “Really? I think they’re nice. Besides, we provide the housing to them for free. They can’t really complain.”
Doog: “Not bad for being free, I guess. They’re better than most of the places I’ve lived for free, like that one dumpster I lived in after I dropped out of college.”

Doog: “So, these are the bugheads? I guess they’re called that because of their buggy, bulging eyes?”
Madame: “Don’t call them that! I told you it was derogatory!”
Doog: “Oops, my bad. I was just calling them the only name I knew. What should I call them?”
Madame: “Their race is known as the Tumes. They originate from a planet called Tumeo. We like to call them Imported Workers.”
Doog: “Why were they imported?”
Madame: “The demand for Texeris skyrocketed after our world was brought into the LIU. We needed a large labor force to meet this demand. That’s where the Tumes came in. Their biology was perfect for this form of labor. They could handle the warm climate, and their upward facing eyes made it easy to pick Texeris from the trees. We imported hundreds of thousands of them.”
Doog: “They volunteered to come here to work?”
Madame: “Apart from the solutions it offered us, their transfer here also benefitted the Tumes. Tumeo was a failing planet. It had few resources and could no longer support its population. Famine and disease were rife. We saved them.”
Doog: “You didn’t answer my question. Did they volunteer to come here?”
Madame: “No. They were brought here involuntarily.”

Doog: “Sigh...they’re slaves…aren’t they?”
Madame: “Now darlin’, you know slavery is illegal. We prefer the term ‘involunteers’.”
Doog: “Here we go with the ‘involunteer’ thing again. Can’t we just call it what it really is? From a legal standpoint, they’re involunteers, but we all know they’re slaves.”
Madame: “I guess it really depends on your definition of slavery.”
Doog: “Is there more than one definition? I thought it was clear. Slavery is forcing someone to work a job they hate for no pay.”
Madame: “They get free housing and food. That’s a form of payment.”
Doog: “That’s not the same thing. I’m talking about money. The slaves do not receive credits for their work.”
Madame: “Are you not a slave then?”
Doog: “What! I get paid! I don’t get paid a lot, but I get paid.”
Madame: “What do you use your money for? Housing and food? It seems that you’re just a slave with an extra step.”
Doog: “I use money for other stuff too…sometimes…when I have some…which is hardly ever. Ok, fine. I work mostly for food and housing. But, I don’t get forced. I can do any job I want.”
Madame: “Can you? Is being a TV Host really what you want? If you suddenly became rich, would you not quit?”
Doog: “I’d quit in a heartbeat. Most days, I hate this job. Seeing the depressing reality of the galaxy isn’t always the best gig.”
Madame: “So, you work a job you dislike in return for money which barely covers the cost of food and housing? Are you not a slave?”
Doog: “Sigh. I suppose I am.”

Madame: “In this economic system, we’re all slaves.”
Doog: “Ha, you’re hardly a slave. I don’t think walking around with a fancy dress and umbrella qualifies as slavery.”
Madame: “I admit, I do have nicer things. Perhaps I’m a few steps higher on the slave scale. But, I’m a slave all the same. I’m a slave to my heritage and a slave to LIU.”
Doog: “Slave to your heritage? What does that even mean?”
Madame: “Do you think I enjoy this life? Because I was born into this family, on this world, my entire future has been arranged. I’ll never leave this planet. I must watch others suffer and labor at my behest. It’s not what I want to do, it’s what I must do.”

Doog: “So, we’re all slaves, in some form or another. But, you must admit, some forms of slavery are better than others.”
Madame: “Touché.”

Doog: “We’ve been discussing the sorry state of the galaxy for so long that I forgot what we’re actually doing.”
Madame: “We’re touring the Texeris fields.”

Doog: “And these weird trees are Texeris?”
Madame: “No, not the trees. Texeris is the pink hanging moss hanging down from the tree limbs.”
Doog: “Ah, ok. Gotcha. Wow, these fields seem to stretch forever. Do they cover the entire planet?”
Madame: “Good Emperor, no. Not even close. Texeris only grows year-round in the planet’s tropical region. Even here in the tropics, there’s limitations. Nothing grows in the Bowland Highlands, for instance.”

Madame: “However you choose to label the Tumes, they are remarkable creatures. It’s almost like the gods handpicked them for this work. They evolved on a planet with an avian apex predator. Their eyes evolved to always look upward to the skies. They can pick Texeris all day without a hint of a sore neck. My people weren’t so lucky when we had to tend the fields ourselves.”
Doog: “Maybe they’re always looking up because people from the space came down and enslaved thousands of them.”
Madame: “I’m pretty sure the trait evolved as a response to the giant flying birds on their homeworld. No need to bring up the whole slavery issue again.”

Doog: “So, what ‘slave’ duties am I witnessing here?”
Madame: “You’re not gonna drop it, huh? Well, the primary duty of the adult Imported Workers is the collection of Texeris. The moss maxes out in length after a few weeks. The workers cut and collect moss that has ‘maxed out’. This frees the moss to begin growing again.”

Madame: “The adult Imported Workers then take the collected moss to factories, like this one up ahead.”
Doog: “Why do you keep saying the ‘adult’ Imported Workers? It implies that the ‘children’ Imported Workers have other duties. I know you found a way around the whole slave legality thing, but I know you can’t bypass Child Labor Laws.”
Madame: “Well…”

Doog: “I can’t believe this. You’re using child labor?”
Madame: “We don’t like the term, ‘child labor’. It implies they are paid.”
Doog: “Oh, so sorry, I guess I should have said child slaves!”
Madame: “We don’t like that term either. We refer to the children as interns. They’re members of the Field Internship Program. They learn valuable skills and work ethic while interning in the factories. It’s a great program that gets them ready for field work when they grow up.”
Doog: “That is the biggest heap of crap I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth. Are you really that deluded that you think this is alright?”

Madame: “Oh, relax, darlin’. It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s air conditioned in here.”
Doog: “Not that bad! Are you crazy!?”
Madame: “I admit it isn’t ideal for the children, but those tiny, dexterous hands are perfect for pulling out aramid fibers. They’re also quite good for sewing too.”
Doog: “Wow, I really misjudged you. You’re evil.”

Madame: “I’m hardly evil. If were up to me, I’d set them all free. But it’s not up to me. It’s up to the LIU.”
Doog: “Whatever.”
Madame: “I’ve made significant changes since I took over. I had the air conditioning installed. I even instituted an educational program.”

Doog: “Oh yeah? What type of program is it? How to be a better slave?”
Madame: “No! It’s a math program that’s played over the loudspeaker. Listen.”

Speaker: “ONE CLOTH PLUS ONE CLOTH EQUALS TWO CLOTHS. TWO CLOTHS PLUS ONE CLOTH EQUALS THREE CLOTHS. THREE CLOTHS…”

Doog: “That’s barely educational. It sounds more like a drum beat for setting pace.”
Madame: “That makes sense. Its primary purpose was to increase production, but I figured it was educational too.”
Doog: “Wow, you have excuses and justifications for everything. It’s maddening. Can we finish this tour?”

Madame: “Aramid fibers removed from the Texeris Moss are sewn into sheets of fabric. We then ship this fabric out across the galaxy.”

Madame: “The fire resistance of Texeris makes it an important part of body armor. It lessens damage from laser blasts. All LIU manufactured body armor contains at least some amount of Texeris.”

Doog: “It’s a good thing I don’t wear body armor. I don’t want to wear something slave children were forced to make.”
Madame: “You wear a spacesuit, don’t you? There are most certainly Texeris fibers in that.”
Doog: “No! Not in my suit!”
Madame: “You fly all over the galaxy in a spaceship, don’t you? Texeris based insulation keeps it from burning up.”
Doog: “No! Not the Magellan!”
Madame: “Don’t feel bad. Billions of people across the LIU galaxy use Texeris in one form or another.”
Doog: “I bet they wouldn’t if they knew how it was created.”
Madame: “How often do you examine the material make-up of the things you buy? How often do you check how these products are manufactured? Like the rest of society, you choose and use products based on demand and price. You don’t care how it’s made or how it gets to you. All you care about is price. If there’s anyone truly evil out there, it’s the whole of society and their demand for cheaper merchandise.”

Doog: “Well folks, what can I say, Telum Texeris is a horrible place. Slaves, old and young, toil away over the entirety of their lives to bring heat and fire resistant fabric to the galaxy. It seems horrible. It’s changed my view of the true costs of the things I buy. I, for one, will be more cautious in the future when deciding what items to purchase. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go burn my slave-made spacesuit.”
Madame: “Uhh…hate to break it to you, but it won’t burn. It’s made of Texeris.”
Doog: “Dang it! Oh well, see ya!”


Note:

Narrator: “Despite the inherent speciesism exhibited by the Telum race, countless cases of interspecies breeding have been documented. Offspring from these taboo encounters are often shipped off world by the Telum to maintain the illusion of their species’ superiority.”

Daddy: “I’m surely superior to you in every way, Sweetie Pie, but Daddy cannot resist that Bughead booty.

Narrator: “The hybrid offspring of the Telum and Tumes are now considered their own species, called the Tulum. They are present throughout the galaxy.”  

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas - Caecus Station #29
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Recently, we’ve visited some of the galaxy’s most distant worlds, but now it’s time to finally check out our intended destination, one of the galaxy’s dark matter collectors. These collectors, called Caecus Stations, are positioned every 11 degrees in the Blattarius Halo, the ring of dark matter that encircles the galaxy. We’ll be visiting Caecus Station #29, which is positioned a few light years from Nidavellir, a rogue planet which houses the LIU’s dark matter research center.”

Doog: “Caecus Station #29 is identical to the other thirty-two stations in the halo, at least in size and design. Due to the irregular shape of the halo, some collectors are more productive than others. Caecus Station #29 is one of the LIU’s least productive stations. I have no doubt that I’ve been given access to this specific station because of the low production numbers. They wouldn’t want me to mess up one of the important ones. Smart decision. Alright, let’s head inside.”

Ul Ser: “Welcome. I am Ul Ser of the Calx.”
Doog: “Nice to meet you Ulcer. I had the pleasure of meeting some members of your race on Nidavellir. Well, pleasure might be too strong of a word. But, yeah, nice to meet you.”
Ul Ser: “Uh…thanks, I guess. So, are you ready for the tour?”
Doog: “I am, but I have a question first. I was told that the Caecus Stations had high levels of radiation. Why isn’t my skin melting off?”
Ul Ser: “Good question.”

Ul Ser: “The Caecus Stations are made up of two rings, an inner ring and an outer ring. While the inner ring is quite deadly for those of your biology, you’ll find the outer ring is plenty safe. Many humans live and work in this portion of the station.”
Doog: “Ah, good. No skin melting until later. So, why two rings?”

Ul Ser: “The collection of dark matter is, by far, our most important duty, but the Caecus Stations serve other roles as well. These unrelated functions are carried out in the shielded outer ring where various alien races can live safely.”
Doog: “What are these other functions?”
Ul Ser: “Follow me.”

Ul Ser: “This is where we keep the BITC, otherwise known as the Boundary Integrity Tracking Center.”
Doog: “You couldn’t find a way to throw an ‘H’ in there? You know, like Boundary Integrity Tracking Center of the Halo…just for funny acronyms sake.”
Ul Ser: “I do not find the humor in that.”
Doog: “Really? I feel like you’re missing out on something there. Oh well. So, what’s this BITC?”
Ul Ser: “The Caecus Stations are in prime position to track all traffic entering and leaving the LIU Galaxy. This is vital to maintaining the integrity of our borders.”

Ul Ser: "Each station houses advanced scanners that detect moving targets within five kiloparsecs. Almost nothing goes unnoticed.”

Ul Ser: “Each ship entering the galaxy is required to have a registered transponder code. The computer detects these codes and displays them on the wall over there. The computer determines if the signal is incoming or outgoing. It also displays any anomalies. As you can see, there’s a ship with an expired tag and a pirated vessel. We’ll need to alert nearby authorities.”

Doog: “Interesting. So, what’s that over there?”
Ul Ser: “Not everyone complies with registering their transponder code; some ships have no transponder at all. These ships can still be detected though. The Caecus Stations have multi-spectral scanners that detect these rogue ships, even while they are in hyperspace. The X-Ray signature on this rogue vessel indicates that it is more than likely a cargo vessel. It also appears to be attempting to enter the galaxy. It’s probably smugglers.”
Doog: “You can get all that from that blob of colors?”
Ul Ser: “It takes a trained eye, but yes. Come on, let’s continue.”

Ul Ser: “The outer ring of the station also contains the cargo bays.”
Doog: “Cargo bays? You guys handle cargo entering the galaxy?”
Ul Ser: “No, nothing like that. The cargo bays are where we store Dark Matter Containers until they are shipped out.”

Doog: “Those containers have dark matter inside them? They look empty.”
Ul Ser: “Dark matter does not interact on the electromagnetic spectrum, so it is invisible to the naked eye. Dark matter does interact gravitationally though, so you could probably sense its presence if you were a bit closer to the container.”
Doog: “How do you keep it from just leaking out?”
Ul Ser: “You’ll note the gravity beam in the center of the container. The dark matter is attracted to the beam. It’s held in check by gravity.”
Doog: “I guess I’ll just take your word for it. You know, you could make a killing selling empty glass balls to people. No ma’am, I swear there’s dark matter inside. It’s held by gravity. Well, of course it will cure your arthritis. Hmm…I wonder where I could get some clear balls. I think I am on to something here.”
Ul Ser: “Please refrain from planning your felonious scam against the elderly while I am present. I don’t want to be tied up in court because of you.”
Doog: “Well, it wouldn’t just be against the elderly. I have some pretty good ideas for other people too. But, yeah, maybe I’ll wait until I’m off TV to discuss it further. I don’t want someone stealing my idea.”

Ul Ser: “This is the radiation airlock. We’ll be progressing into the inner ring now.”
Doog: “Ah, time to say goodbye to my skin.”
Ul Ser: “Do not fret. There will be limited discomfort inside the radiation suit.”
Doog: “I get a suit? Thank the Emperor.”
Ul Ser: “Yes, of course. Make a right next to the door there. You’ll find a locker room and a suit.”

Doog: “So, I won’t be losing skin due to radiation, but chafing is still a major concern. Right now, it’s a toss-up on which one is better.”
Ul Ser: “Did you remove your clothing or something? You’re supposed to keep that on.”
Doog: “A little late to be telling me that now. I’m 100% commando under here.”
Ul Ser: “Remind me to send that suit to the incinerator at the conclusion of your visit.”
Doog: “Well, shall we continue?”
Ul Ser: “Yes, but you’ll need to confine your visit to just a few minutes. The suit won’t handle much more than that. My race is the only inhabitants of the inner ring. Our biology is resistant to radiation.”
Doog: “I’m all about doing these tours quickly. Let’s head out.”

Doog: “Whoa. Radiation must make your race grow. This guy is huge.”
Ul Ser: “He’s not bigger, his suit is. The industrial environment in the inner ring requires some members of my race to wear larger bio-mechanical suits.”
Doog: “How do you know he’s not bigger? Been checking him out in the locker room?”
Ul Ser: “Sigh. That does not justify a response.”

Ul Ser: “This is the decontamination rig. Here, Osmium Cores from the dark matter collector are cleaned of radiation.”
Doog: “Osmium core? Am I supposed to know what that means?”
Ul Ser: “The ultra-dense, super heavy cores are used to make miniature black holes. This is done with hyperspace fracking. These black holes only last a few seconds before evaporating, but they leave behind tons of Hawking Radiation. This radiation eventually builds up to unacceptable levels within the Osmium Core, and it needs to be replaced. Otherwise the core would fail.”
Doog: “The only words I understood were ‘holes’ and ‘fracking”. And I usually use them in a way different context.”
Ul Ser: “Sigh. The core gets too dirty to work correctly, so we take it down to this room to be cleaned. Think of this place as a laundry room.”
Doog: “What’s laundry?”

Ul Ser: ‘The radiation is transferred into absorption rods, rendering the core operable once again. The core will be put back into operation when the current core begins to fail.”
Doog: “What about these radioactive rods? What happens to them?”
Ul Ser: “They are used to power the station. Hawking Radiation is not the cleanest power source, but it doesn’t matter to my species. Besides, this place is already bathed in radiation, a little dirty power doesn’t hurt anything.”
Doog: “They power the whole station?”
Ul Ser: “Absolutely not. We have sixteen Fusion Star Chambers making the bulk of our power. The absorption rods are just a complement. Dark matter collection is extremely pricy, mostly due to the enormous power demands associated with its collection. The cost of maintaining the Fusion Star Chambers are slightly offset by using absorption rods. It’s something my species thought up on Nidavellir.”

Doog: “Let me guess, this is the collector.”
Ul Ser: “Indeed.”
Doog: “I know size isn’t everything…trust me…but I thought the collector would be…I don’t know…bigger?”
Ul Ser: “A common reaction, but I assure you it gets the job done. This design was found to be the most efficient method of dark matter collection.”
Doog: “How does it work?”
Ul Ser: “I explained it briefly before, but let me try to find a way to explain it so even you would understand.”

Ul Ser: “Think of the collector as a giant vacuum cleaner. It creates a strong gravitational singularity that pulls dark matter into the collector. The singularity is created by miniature black holes. They only last a few seconds, but they are created over and over so there is constantly a strong gravitational pull.”
Doog: “Like a black hole machine gun?”
Ul Ser: “Exactly. Although it is expensive to maintain and produces unimaginable amounts of radiation, the Osmium Core Black Hole Generator is the best way to keep a gravitational singularity within the collector.”

Doog: “Why is this station one of the least productive? It seems like everything is up and running just fine.”
Ul Ser: “Dark matter collection requires immense gravity to work. It’s a slow process that gradually pulls dark matter in from the nearby Blattarius Halo. Other nearby sources of gravity can slightly disrupt this process. Station #29 has the misfortune of being close to the straggler stars in this arm of the galaxy. Their combined gravitational pull makes our station less efficient.”
Doog: “Straggler stars? Like Vel Fimbriam and Buccina Prime?”
Ul Ser: “Yes. Not all the arms of the galaxy have stars this far out. This cluster of straggler stars must have been captured from a companion galaxy several million years ago. Regardless of how or why they are here, they certainly put a damper in this station’s collection.”

Doog: “Are we almost done? It’s starting to get a bit warm in this suit.”
Ul Ser: “Yes. This is the last portion of our tour. This is the fill room where dark matter is encased into Dark Matter Containers. The filled containers must undergo decontamination before being moved into the outer ring, to avoid spreading radiation. That’s basically it.”
Doog: “Thank goodness. I do believe the sweat in my manhood region is beginning to boil. I need out of here!”

Doog: “Well folks, how can I sum this up quick? The Caecus Stations collect dark matter using cool black hole generators. There’s Osmium cores involved, as well as huge amounts of radiation. I can’t get too detailed right now. I do believe my suit is finally succumbing to the radiation. See ya!



Note: Dark matter is used for several purposes, including: artificial gravity generators, anti-gravity shielding, fuel, and weapons. 

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 8 - Episode 11 - Telum Texeris

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas - Buccina
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU Galaxy, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: "Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I'm your host Terrance "Doog" McDoogal. Today we're visiting Buccina, another world in the Blattarius Halo. Buccina is a cold planet dominated by flat, endless deserts. The majority of Buccina's economy revolves around mining, but I'm told there are other areas of interest. I guess we’ll have to descend to learn what that’s all about."

Doog: "Alright folks, I've been dropped off on a landing platform inside the confines of Fort Buxum. The fort protects mining interests in this area. Because Buccina is so remote, it is subject to occasional raids from pirates and other criminal organizations. Hopefully, I'll be safe inside the fort."

Brontes: "Safe indeed. I'm Brontes Steropes, Director of Mining Operations here on Buccina." 
Doog: "Great to meet you. Who's this other guy?"
Brontes: "Oh, this is Agite, my assistant. He doesn't speak Basic, so he's not much of a talker. To be honest, he's not much of an assistant either. Seriously, all he does is follow me around. He's pretty useless."
Doog: "You're preaching to the choir when it comes to useless coworkers. So, tell us a little about your operation on Buccina."

Brontes: "Buccina is abundant in an alloy called Unthueric Brass, and we mine it. It's pretty straight forward."
Doog: "Urethra Brass? Is that different than normal brass?"
Brontes: "Brass is an alloy of copper and zinc. Types of brass can vary depending on the differing percentages of copper, zinc, and other additives. Unthueric Brass is one such variation."
Doog: "What makes Urethra Brass so special?"
Brontes: "It's actually Unthueric Brass, not urethra. It's special because it is nearly frictionless, making it an ideal casing for ammunition."
Doog: "Ah, I see why it's so protected now."

Doog: "Uh...speaking of protected…is this the safest place to be standing?"
Brontes: “Relatively safe. We only average about two crush deaths a year, so the odds are in our favor.”
Doog: “Comforting.”

Doog: “So this is the special brass?”
Brontes: "Yes. Mined Unthueric Brass is transported via train cars to the fort's landing platform, where it is transferred to cargo ships and taken off world. We don’t do any of the processing here."
Doog: “So, we’ve started at the end of the operation?”
Brontes: “Yes. If you’ll follow me, we’ll see where it all begins.”

Brontes: “The lack of tectonic activity and strong eroding winds have shaped Buccina’s surface into featureless flatlands.”
Doog: “This section hardly looks flat.”
Brontes: “Exactly. There are a few exceptions. These pits, or lowlands, are called ‘Howl Caverns’. They’re formed when wind erosion opens up tunnels or caves into the surface.”
Doog: “Did you say ‘howl caverns’?”
Brontes: “Yes, a name derived from the natives. On windy days, a howling noise emanates from the caverns. The noise is created by the wind altering the air pressure within the cavern, or Helmholtz Resonance. The natives, of course, are not familiar with this scientific principle, so they see the sound in a more spiritual light. These howling caverns play a big role in their culture.”
Doog: “How so?”
Brontes: “We’ll get to that in a bit. Let’s focus on the mines for now.”

Brontes: “The wind-eroded tunnels stretch deep into Buccina’s crust, giving us access to the abundant Unthueric Brass within. These naturally formed caverns or tunnels extends hundreds of miles into the crust.”

Brontes: “Because the mines are so deep, we had to import workers that were capable of surviving long durations within the mine.”
Doog: “Are those Aleans?”
Brontes: “Yes. On Alea, they stay in the mines for months at a time. They’re well suited for these conditions.”
Doog: “I know. I’ve been there. Wait, does that mean there are casinos here?”
Brontes: “No, unfortunately.”

Brontes: “This place is known as the Condenser Point. Here, Unthueric Brass from all the various branches of the cavern come together to be loaded onto train cars. Large, mechanized, lifting belts make it easy work.”
Doog: “Looks like some pretty standard mining stuff...which is sort of boring, to be honest. I’m more interested in this ‘howl’. I don’t hear anything.”
Brontes: "The phenomenon is difficult to hear with all the loud machinery. We’ve also altered the tunnel with various structures, and they too dampen the sound. If you want to experience the howl, we’ll need to venture out of the fort and head to one of the untarnished caverns.”
Doog: "I'm game."

Brontes: “Are you sure you’re up for this? We’ll be leaving the safety of the fort.”
Doog: “I guess. This show isn’t going to make itself. If I stay here with the boring mining stuff, I might lose the six viewers I have left.”

Doog: “I mean…it can’t be too dangerous. We’ll have soldiers with us, right?”
Brontes: “No. The soldiers are here to protect physical assets, not guys like us.”
Doog: “I’m having some serious second-thoughts right now.”

Doog: “If any of you guys feel like going AWOL, now’s the time. A little desertion never hurt anyone.”
Brontes: “The penalty for desertion is death, I believe.”
Doog: “Doesn’t mean it hurts. Besides, the penalty for us going alone might be death.”

Brontes: “Relax. It’s not really that bad. Pirates haven’t raided this place in decades. I’d be more worried about the natives than anything else.”
Doog: “Oh great…more to worry about. Could you perhaps pile a bit more on? Are there five-hundred foot centipedes or something?”
Brontes: “Nothing like that. There’s some pretty big lizards though.”
Doog: “Lizards…wonderful…”
Brontes: “Most have been domesticated by the natives, so there’s no reason to worry about them.”

Doog: “Ok…I thought we were leaving the fort. What’s this?”
Brontes: “This is Tau Depot, the fort’s trading post. It’s located just outside the actual fort. It acts as a liaison point between the LIU and the natives. It’s where we conduct our trade with them.”

Brontes: “This is Arges Steropes, my brother. I appointed him Trade Delegate.”
Arges: “The gift that keeps on giving.”
Brontes: “Hey, I know it’s not easy, but you needed a job. Be grateful.”
Doog: “What happened to you?”
Arges: “A trade dispute with the natives. Guy ripped my arm clean off and then broke my back beating me with it.”
Brontes: “It was just one of a handful of negative contacts with the natives. He never mentions the hundreds of positive contacts.”
Arges: “Forgive me, brother. Some incidents tend to be more memorable. Like the one with the arm and broken back…or the one with the fractured skull…or the one with…”
Brontes: “Ok, ok. I get it. I didn’t have a choice. The LIU wanted a Cyclopian delegate. They figured we’d have more in common with the natives. If it makes you feel any better, I’m here to take this TV reporter to see the howl caverns and the natives. Maybe, I’ll finally experience one of these negative contacts and you can rub it in my face.”

Arges: “Well, in that case, I’d be glad to speed you towards your demise. I have three Hover-Bikes available. I trust that will be sufficient.”
Brontes: “Should be. Doog, can you drive one of these?”
Doog: “Well…I drove one once, but…I crashed immediately.”
Brontes: “Uh...”
Doog: “I’ll figure it out. There’s not much to crash into out here, right? You were saying something about endless flatlands. Besides, the only thing I’ll end up hurting is myself.”
Brontes: “Yourself, our Hover-Bike, Agite, and possibly me…maybe you should just ride with me.”
Doog: “If you insist. I mean, riding behind you might chafe my rashes, but I guess that’s better than crashing.”
Brontes: “Did you say ‘rashes’? Uh…how about we give you a second chance on the Hover-Bike. I’m sure that last crash was an anomaly.”

Brontes: “I really must insist that you use two hands. You’re drifting closer to me.”
Doog: “I can’t. I have to hold my microphone.”
Brontes: “Can’t you hold it in between your legs or something?”
Doog: “The region between my legs is already busy holding something else.”
Brontes: “What? I didn’t see you carrying anything other than your mic.”
Doog: “It’s something very personal to me. Something valuable. Some say it’s little, but I usually describe it as average.”
Brontes: “Wow…are you talking about your wiener?”
Doog: “What! No! No one describes that as little. I’m talking about my cellphone.”

Brontes: “If you get any closer, I’m going to make you buy me dinner. Lean to the right.”
Doog: “How about you lean to the left? I’m doing just fine here, I don’t want to mess up doing some advanced maneuver, like leaning right.”
Brontes: “It’s literally the easiest maneuver. Like, the first day of Hover-Bike school kind of easy.”
Doog: “Not all of us have your fancy school degrees.”
Brontes: “It’s not a degree! It’s basic common sense! Haven’t you ever ridden a normal bike?”
Doog: “Not all of us grew up in fancy little towns with bike trails.”
Brontes: “We’re almost here. I’m done arguing with you.”

Brontes: “Slow it down. Don’t make any quick movements. The natives are easily spooked. In fact, let’s just stop and let them pass. Oh, and don’t look them directly in the eye.”
Doog: “Their eyes are like...eighty percent of their face. Where should I look?”
Brontes: “I don’t know, just not their eye!”
Doog: “I’m going with the groin stare. It might send mixed signals, but it’s plenty far from their eye.”
Brontes: “Whatever works.”
Doog: “So, what can you tell us about the natives?”
Brontes: “They’re a nomadic people. They travel in caravans, like this, in search of vegetation and water. They’ve domesticated a native lizard species, and they use them as beasts of burden. Many tribes construct small cabins or covered chambers on top their mounts for shelter.”
Doog: “Tribes?”

Brontes: “Yes. The Buccinans travel around in small family units that we call tribes. They are generally built around groups of sisters. The females have a blue skin pigmentation to stand out and attract males, so the sisters are easy to spot. The males are a much duller green color.”
Doog: “This will probably sound offensive, being that you’re a Cyclopian, but how does a species evolve one eye? I was always told two were better.”
Brontes: “No offense taken. My people are familiar with the two-eye bias. Sometimes, one eye is better. Two eyes allow for better depth perception, but one eye can see further. It’s more telescopic. In the case of the Buccinans, it was a better way to find mates at long distances. Because there are so few features on the planet surface, the Buccinans use their one, telescopic eye to see vast distances.”
Doog: “I guess it’s better for navigating these plains. I couldn't find my way back to the fort if my life depended on it.”
Brontes: “Actually, the Buccinans evolved an even better way to navigate…by using sound.”
Doog: “Sound to navigate?”
Brontes: “Yes. The planet’s ‘howl’ caverns vary in depth and size which gives each one a distinct sound. The Buccinans can differentiate these sounds and can use them to triangulate their position. That’s why the Buccinans see these caverns as holy. Each one is like a beacon.”

Brontes: “Alright, here’s one of the caverns. You can probably hear this one a bit easier.”
Doog: “Yeah, for sure. It’s kind of angelic. I probably would have seen the cavern as holy too, if you didn’t ruin it with science earlier.”

Brontes: “The Buccinans use the caverns for navigation, but they also serve as a communal gathering places. Here, various tribes come together to trade, find mates, and exchange members.”
Doog: “Are they smoking something? Are those bongs? Ooh, ooh, pick me! Pick me! Trade for me! I want to be in the bong clan!”
Brontes: “Shhh! Don’t disturb the natives! Besides, those aren’t bongs. They’re musical instruments.”
Doog: “Instruments?”
Brontes: “Yes. The Buccinans produce two of the galaxy’s greatest wind instruments. They’re crafted from a form of brass called Windscale. Like I said before, the ‘howl caverns’ play a large role in the Buccinans spiritual system. They’ve constructed these instruments to mimic the angelic howls of the caverns.”
Doog: “Oh, that’s cool. Not bong-level cool, but cool.”

Brontes: “The larger instrument is called a Buccana. It has a low-pitched, echoing sound. It’s considered a bass instrument.”
Doog: “And it’s popular around the galaxy?”
Brontes: “Absolutely. It is an integral part of orchestras around the galaxy.”

Brontes: “The Buccana is a beautiful instrument, no doubt, but it pales in comparison with its much smaller cousin, the Buccini. The Buccini is Universe renowned”
Doog: “What makes it so special?”
Brontes: “Listen to it. It sounds like a whole choir of heavenly voices.”
Doog: “That noise is all coming from that little thing?”
Brontes: “Yes. It’s a wind instrument, but its sound closely resembles a synthetic voice. It’s quite amazing.”
Doog: “I can see why it’s so popular. Does the LIU mass produce the Buccini now?”
Brontes: “They wish. The Buccini and Buccana must be handcrafted. Their construction is an art form known only to the Buccinans. The LIU has tried to reproduce the Buccini many times, but they have never succeeded. It never sounds close to the same. The LIU is forced to trade with the natives to acquire the instruments.”
Doog: “Ah, makes sense now. That’s why your brother is a Trade Delegate. It’s his job to get Buccinis from the natives.”
Brontes: “Yes, and they don’t part with them easily either. Well, you’ve seen how my brother looks…”

Brontes: “Uh, I wouldn’t touch that if I was you. You haven’t bartered for it. Remember the things Arges was saying about arms being pulled off?”
Doog: “Relax. I just need it a minute. Well folks, Buccina is an interesting place. It’s home to a mining industry that collects a rare form of bronze that ends up being turned into ammunition. It’s also home to an interesting race of one-eyed beings called the Buccinans. The Buccinans use the sounds of the ‘howl caverns’ to navigate their featureless homeworld. They also make some of the galaxy’s best wind instruments, like this Buccini here. Well, I better return this before I get my arm ripped off. See ya!”


Note:

Doog: “Get the hover-bikes ready!”
Brontes: “As long as you don’t ride alongside me again…”

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 8 - Episode 10 - Caecus Station #29

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                              LIU Atlas - Collybus
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Oldie: “Gather around guys. Mike and I have good news for once.”
Cam: “We’re actually getting paid this season?”
Oldie: “Well, hopefully, but that’s not the news.”
Doog: “You won the lottery? And you’re going to give all of us a cut?”
Mike: “Uh no. I’m pretty sure you’d never see us again if that happened.”
Timbo: “It’s something to do with money. Just tell us.”
Oldie: “Our requisition request for more supplies finally came through. It only took five years and they only sent a quarter of what I requested, but we’re now the proud owner of two hundred credits.”
Doog: “Heck yeah! What are we waiting for? Where’s the nearest brothel?”
Mike: “It doesn’t work that way. I asked.”
Oldie: “We’ll need receipts for everything we purchase. They must be related to the job.”
Doog: “Where’s the fun in that?”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting Collybus, a rogue asteroid on the inner rim of the Blattarius Halo. Collybus was once abundant in Osmium, an element vital to the collection of dark matter. A large mining facility was built into the asteroid to extract this valuable element. However, when the element was exhausted, the facility was abandoned.”

Doog: “Collybus underwent a rebirth recently when it developed a new purpose. Its prime location in the center of several halo worlds made Collybus a perfect supply depot. Goods from the inner galaxy are shipped here to be distributed to the worlds of the Blattarius Halo. Collybus also imports goods, primarily dark matter, from the halo worlds and ships them into the galaxy. Collybus has gone from being abandoned to one of the halo’s most important worlds. We’ve come here to buy supplies and restock the Magellan.”

Cam: “Does anyone else feel bad leaving Hugo behind again?”
Doog: “No.”
Mike: “Sort of, but it’s his job. No one feels bad leaving me to filter audio hours on end.”
Oldie: “Yeah. No one feels bad leaving me to do what I do…whatever that is.”
Doog: “Let’s try not to start this day off feeling bad for anyone. Shopping is supposed to be fun. It might be another five years before we get to do this again.”
Cam: “Do we have some type of plan here? Or is it just a shopping spree?”

Oldie: “I figured we’d break up into smaller groups and get some predetermined items.”
Doog: “We’re going to have to split up. This place is huge.”
Mike: “It smells like paradise in here.”

Oldie: “It’s…it’s…a food court.”
Mike: “Food as far as the eye can see…”
Doog: “Anyone up for a two hundred credit food binge?”

Cam: “How much pizza can we get for two hundred credits?”
Doog: “Depends on how much ice cream we want for desert?”
Mike: “Let’s start with a dozen pizzas and four gallons of ice cream. I want to save some money for burgers.”
Doog: “Ooh, let’s not forget tacos.”

Oldie: “Let’s not get too crazy. Everything is marked up in these food courts. We can get a lot more if we buy the supplies to make our own meals.”
Doog: “When did you get all responsible?”
Oldie: “When I saw there’s no pony soup in this food court…”
Cam: “He’s right though. Maybe we should shop for other supplies before we blow all our cash here. We can always come back.”

Doog: “Fine. Are we still dividing up into teams? If so, I call Mike.”
Oldie: “I’m not sure that’s a great idea.”
Mike: “Why?”
Cam: “No offense, but Mike’s easily manipulated…especially when Doog is involved.”
Mike: “What! No I’m not!”
Doog: “Even if he is, too bad. I called it. We all know the rules. When it comes to the crew, debate and common sense always play second fiddle to the first call. I believe there is precedent here.”

Oldie: “Fine, but you better keep your receipts. Remember, everything you buy better be legit. Purchases have to involve work or work supplies, otherwise, it comes out of our pay for the year. Got it?”
Mike: “On second thought, I didn’t realize the stakes were so high…”
Doog: “Just say ‘got it’.”
Mike: “Got it.”
Cam: “Oh man…we are screwed.”


Doog & Mike

Mike: “A barber shop? Why are we stopping here? Are we buying combs or something?”
Doog: “No, of course not. I’m getting a haircut.”
Mike: “Haircuts aren’t supplies, Doog.”
Doog: “It’s work related though. We need the TV Host to look good, right?”
Mike: “I don’t know if that’s really in the spirit of the agreement.”
Doog: “You know, the audio-man needs a haircut too. We wouldn’t want your hair to drape over your ears and diminish our show’s audio quality.”
Mike: “I could get one too?”
Doog: “Well yeah. It’s work related.”
Mike: “Fine. Let’s do it.”

Hairdresser: “What can I do for you sir?”
Doog: “I don’t know. How does one improve upon perfection?”
Hairdresser: “Huh?”
Doog: ‘Just a little trim, please.”

Mike: “Just a trim? I’m getting the works: cut, highlights, and a style.”
Doog: “I thought about getting the works too, but then I noticed something that changed my mind.”
Mike: “What’s that?”
Doog: “Well, don’t you find it a bit disconcerting that none of the hairdressers here actually have any hair of their own.”
Mike: “I didn’t even pick up on that…oh well, shouldn’t matter. I’m sure they’re trained.”

Mike: “I think they went a tad overboard with the highlights. Be honest, how does it look?”
Doog: “Honestly, I going to need you to walk at least ten paces behind me the rest of the trip.”
Mike: “Oh come on. It’s not that bad. Besides, yours isn’t much better.”
Doog: “I know. I know. I asked for a trim, but somehow I feel my hair is longer. Don’t even get me started on how much hair gel I’m rocking right now. I could ride a hover-bike without a helmet.”

Oldie, Cam, & Timbo

Cam: “This is the lamest grocery store I’ve ever been in. Where’s all the meat?’
Timbo: “It’s not so bad. Looks like they have some pretty fresh food. Everything looks organic too. It should be better than the usual gruel we eat.”
Cam: “Hey, meat’s organic too.”
Oldie: “Relax. I got an inside tip. This grocer is the only store that stocks…”

Oldie: “…pony soup! Yes! Found it!”
Cam: “Let’s look at the label…pure, organic pony soup. Made from free range ponies that died of old age. No suffering, no preservatives. This stuff is expensive.”
Oldie: “Who cares? It’s pony soup, my favorite.”  
Cam: “You are aware that not everyone in the crew loves pony soup like you, right? I mean, it’s ok, but I’d like to get some other stuff too.”
Timbo: “Yeah, I’d really like to stock up on some fresh veggies.”
Cam: “No, not veggies. I’m talking Kaadu steak. Real man food.”
Oldie: “Pony soup is the only meat this place sells. So you can side with Timbo and eat grass or you can back me and eat a meaty, delicious soup.”
Cam: “Sigh…pony soup it is.”

Oldie: “Excuse me! Cashier! Is this the biggest size you have? Do you have anything in barrel size?”


Doog & Mike

Mike: “I’m not going to lie. I’m eager to learn how you plan on justifying alcoholic beverages as supplies.”
Doog: “Well…it could be used as a stress reliever. I guess. That seems important and work related.”
Mike: “I don’t know if that’s going to cut it.”

Doog: “The really hard stuff might pass as medical supplies. You know, as a disinfectant.”
Mike: “That’s a stretch.”

Doog: “Wine, in moderation, has shown some health benefits. They want us to make shows as long as possible, don’t they?”
Mike: “I’m not sure we could convince the producers that you do anything in moderation. Also, I don’t like wine.”

Doog: “I don’t know. Isn’t two guys getting the worst haircuts of their life justification enough? I mean…look at us.”
Mike: “Trust me, I’d like to drown my sorrows as well, but the LIU isn’t going to agree. I do like the medical angle, though. We’re going to need to get something really strong to pull it off though.”
Doog: “They have starshine on the shelf behind us. It doesn’t get any stronger than that.”
Mike: “As much as I’ve grown attached to my teeth, esophagus, and stomach…starshine might actually work.”
Doog: “We’ll take three starshine bottles please.”

Oldie, Cam, & Timbo

Cam: “Did we really stop at a store called ‘Stuff’?”
Oldie: “Why not? We need stuff.”
Cam: “Can’t argue with that.”

Oldie: “This is not what I was expecting.”
Timbo: “Oh, I get it. Stuff…like stuffed animals.”
Cam: “I don’t think these are fun, cuddly stuffed animals. I think these are literally stuffed animals. Like taxidermy or something.”
Oldie: “Well, there’s nothing we need here. Let’s move on.”

Cam: “I wouldn’t say nothing. Looks like they have some stuffed spiders. We might have finally found a way to get Doog out of bed.”
Timbo: “As much as I love the idea, I’m not sure how it qualifies as supplies.”
Oldie: “Screw it. I’ll pay for it out of my own salary. Get two.”

Doog & Mike

Mike: “Alright. We seriously need to buy one thing of actual supplies. Here’s a supply store.”
Doog: “Many decisions have been made here.”
Mike: “Huh?”
Doog: “You see what’s next to the supply store, right? There’s a ‘fun end’ massage parlor. On one end, we have supplies, on the other…fun endings.

Mike: “There’s no way you’re getting me inside there….”

Mike: “Why do I always listen to you?”
Doog: “Because I’m always right?”
Mike: “I’m not sure that you’re right this time. I didn’t realize our ‘fun end’ massage was going to be in the same room as each other. It’s kind of weird. The robot massagers with the male voices don’t make it any better. I’m at the point where I’d rather have gotten supplies.”

B4-U812: “I am B4-U8, deep tissue relations. I am fluent in over six million forms of body manipulation. I hope you found everything satisfactory. We will now proceed with your fun end: One day I bet a butcher 500 credits that he couldn’t reach the Kaadu meat on the top shelf. He declined, the stakes were too high.”
Guy: “Haha. Thanks.”

Doog: “Apparently the ‘fun end’ is a joke. Didn’t see that coming.”
Mike: “I must admit…I’m somewhat relieved. Although, the risk we took getting a massage instead of supplies is all in vain. There’s no real reward now.” 
Doog: “We get a massage and we get to hear a joke. That’s something.”

Oldie: “What the heck happened to you two?”
Doog: “We may have indulged in some totally job-related haircuts.”
Cam: “Since when are boy band makeovers considered job-related?”
Mike: “You really think I could pass for a boy band member? Sweet.”
Doog: “The host needs to look good, it‘s for my job. I don’t know why Mike got one. You should probably dock his pay.”
Mike: “What! Traitor!”
Oldie: “Is that all?”
Doog: “We may have also gotten some medical supplies…in the form of Starshine. It‘s a natural disinfectant or something.”
Oldie: “Why did we let you pick Mike?”
Doog: “Oh, and we may have paid for a joke seminar, you know, to polish up my TV persona.”
Cam: “Yeah…I see those all being rejected by the LIU.”
Doog: “Well, what did you get?”
Oldie: “A three month supply of pony soup!”
Cam: “It should be noted that the soup is organic and from recently deceased ponies. It taste twice as bad as regular pony soup. And…it’s all we have to eat for the next few months.”
Doog: “Sounds like another successful supply run. Good job guys. I‘m off to bed. I‘ll let you guys carry all the supplies onboard.”

Doog: “Ahhh! The beds are infested with giant spiders! Everyone run!”
Cam: “Hehe.”
Oldie: “So worth it.”

Doog: “Well folks, Collybus is an interesting place. It houses a huge supply depot that is sort of reminiscent of a large mall. This place has all the supplies anyone out in the Blattarius Halo will ever need, including food, alcohol, and massages. Massages with a joke at the end. No, not a choke, a joke. You can also get a haircut here too, but I wouldn’t recommend it. Well, I was going to get a much needed nap in, but it appears our ship was infested with spiders during our absence. The bathroom will be my new housing for the time-being. It should work out ok though, I’ll need to sleep in the shower a few days to get all this gel out of my hair. Oh well, see ya!”


Note:

Cam: “How long do you think this will work?”
Oldie: “I’m betting we’ll have exhausted our pony soup supply way before he ever figures it out.”
Mike: “Figures what out?”
Cam: “No one tell him! He couldn’t keep it from Doog.”
Mike: “Keep what from Doog? You guys can trust me. I don’t do everything Doog says. Let me put this Starshine away; we’ll talk about it.” 

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT EPISODE - Season 8 - Episode 9 - Buccina

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                               LIU Atlas - Fimbria
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the remote, jungle world of Fimbria. Fimbria and its star, Vel Fimbriam, rest in the outermost fringe of the LIU Galaxy, just inside the Blattarius Halo. In fact, Vel Fimbriam is generally considered to be the galaxy’s most distant star, at least, from the galactic center. What will we find out here in the fringes of the galaxy? Let’s find out. ”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off in a small city on the shoreline of a large lake. It’s certainly a jungle world. It’s hot, humid, and overgrown in foliage. It even smells like a jungle world - like an old, sweat filled tennis shoe that’s been sprayed with flowery air freshener. Or better yet, like my hotel room after that mermaid adventure on Malicanum. Or perhaps, like that one time on Pravus…well, you get the point. It doesn’t smell great.”

Doog: “This lakeside village is known as Arbuste Vivant. It one of several small villages on the shore of this massive lake. The town houses the native Fimbrian race. The Fimbrians are a sentient plant species. They’ve evolved from one of the planet’s carnivorous plants. It’s rare that a plant species reaches this level of sentience, considering that most plants lack brains, but somehow the Fimbrian managed it. I’d like to find out more, but my guide does not seem to want to come down these stairs. We’ve been having a ten minute stand-off, literally. I guess I’ll be the bigger man…after I wait another ten minutes.”

Doog: “Hey, I’m Doog, the guys that’s been waiting for you down on the dock for the last twenty minutes.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “I  am  Ya-Te-Veo. I  apologize  for  my  tardiness. My  biology  requires momentary  pauses  to  re-energize.”
Doog: “Re-energize?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Like  all  living  creatures  classified  as  plants, my  body  utilizes  photosynthesis  to make energy. Therefore,  I  must  cease  movement  on  occasion  to  allow  my  energy  reserves  to  be  restored.  Photosynthesis  is  an  efficient  power  system  for  many  living  things,  but  it  is  not  well  suited  for  quick  movements.”
Doog: “It’s not well suited for talking quickly either, apparently. I have a feeling I’m going to be here for a while.”

Doog: “So, the members of your species are walking, talking plants. How did that come about?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Fimbria  is  abundant  in  water  and  sunlight,  but  its  soil  lacks  sufficient  amounts  of  nutrients.  Competition  for  the  rare  nutrients  led  to  an  outbreak  of  evolution  that  we  call  the  Great  Fimbrian  Arms  Race.”
Doog: “Arms race? Like a war?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “An  evolutionary  war,  I  suppose.  The  winners  of  this war  were  species  that  could  derive  nutrients  from  alternative  sources,  mostly  via  predation.  Some  species  evolved  the  ability  to  make  fast  motions  to  capture  prey.  Others  utilized  deadly  chemicals  to  kill  prey  that  came  too  close.”
Doog: “Where did your species fall on this spectrum? I’m guessing you’re not the fast movement sort, given how slow you seem to talk. Wait, does that mean you're poisonous? Am I in danger?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “No  need  to  worry.  I  am  not  poisonous.  My  species  developed  a  third  alternative.  We  became  mobile.  We  were  not  as  fast  as  the  quick  strike  species,  but  deadly  in  our  own  right.  This  course  of  action  led  to  many  of  our  current  adaptations.  Light  sensitive  cells  developed  into  more  advanced  eyes,  allowing  us  to  plot  courses  to  our  prey.  Our  moving  roots  and  branches  slowly  changed  into  legs  and  arms.  Of  course,  the  coordination  of  these  new  features  required  the  development  of  a  brain.  It  was  a  simple  brain  at  first,  but  over  the  millennia,  it  has  evolved  to  be  quite  large.”
Doog: “If your head size is any indication of this brain, then I concur.” 

Doog: “So, you’re plants that actually eat stuff?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Eating  may  not  be  the  proper  term.  We  do  not  derive  energy  from  the  prey  we  catch,  only  minerals  and  nutrients.  We  get  all  our  energy  from  photosynthesis.  Animals  are  captured,  killed,  and  then  left  to  decay.  We  then  ingest  their  rotten, putrefied mineral  soup.”
Doog: “Well, I guess that’s where the smell is coming from.”

Doog: “Do you eat any of the plants?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Again  we  do  not  eat.  Even  if  we  could  eat,  we  would  still  avoid  most  of  the  plant  species  here.  While  we  have  developed  some  immunities  to  their  poisons,  they  can  still  be  dangerous.”
Doog: “Well, that’s comforting to know…since, you know, I have zero immunities.”

Doog: “Well, shall we continue on?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “…”
Doog: “Uh, hello?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “…”
Doog: “Oh great, recharging again.”

Doog: “Alright, the plant-man finally woke up and rejoined us. We’ve descended the platform and we’re now riding on a catamaran. Water travel is preferred here. It allows the Fimbrians to avoid unnecessary encounters with the planet’s poisonous plants.”

Doog: “So where are we headed? To another village?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “We  will  pass  through  a  village  as  we  head  towards  our  destination,  but  it  is  not  our  intended  target.  We  are  heading  south  towards  the  science  station.”
Doog: “Science station, huh? Is that your economy?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “I  wouldn’t  say  it  is  really  ‘our’  economy.  My  people  have  a  cooperative,  resource  sharing  economic system.  We  work  for  the  survival  and  benefit  of  our  species  and  society.  The  science  station  was  installed  by  the  LIU.”

Doog: “Whoa, whoa. Slow it down their buddy. Don’t talk too much. Last thing I need is for you to space out for a re-energizing session in the middle of this boat ride. Who knows where we’ll end up? I mean, I don’t know how to steer this thing.”

Ya-Te-Veo:  “Relax.  This  is  where  the  boat  ride  ends.”
Doog: “Ends? Here? I don’t see anything.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Yes.  That’s  because  we’ll  have  to  continue  on  foot  for  a  few  miles.”
Doog: “On foot? Through the poisonous stuff? I thought you said that was dangerous.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “It  is.  Stay  on  the  path.  Avoid  contact  with  any  plants.”
Doog: “Oh great…”

Ya-Te-Veo: “Take  particular  care  near  these  red  plants.  My  people  know  them  as  Endolori,  but  their  name  in  basic  is  Pain  Fingers.  Their  long  finger-like  appendages  are  capable  of  quick  movements,  and  they  can  deliver  painful,  poisonous  strikes.”
Doog: “Oh, you mean the wriggling red fingers of pain all around the path? That should be easy to avoid…”   
Ya-Te-Veo: “They  are  not  that  difficult  to  avoid.  They  strike  when  movement  is  detected.  Move  slow.”
Doog: “I’m going to die here, aren’t I?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Their  poison  is  not  deadly,  but  the  painful,  itchy  rashes  they  give  you  will  make  you  wish  you  were  dead.”
Doog: “Oh, very comforting. Thanks.”

Doog: “I can’t believe I actually made it to the Science Station without getting fingered…uh…that came out wrong. Sooo…changing the subject…what do you guys do in this station?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Come  inside.  There  is  much  to  see.”

Doog: “Bio W. Danger. Wait…is this a biological weapons lab?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Yes.  In  fact,  it  is.”

Ya-Te-Veo:  “As  you  have  discovered  throughout  our  journey,  many  of  the  plant  species  here  have  advanced  chemical  defense  systems.  The  LIU  harvests  the  more  promising  species  to  cultivate  their  poisons.  The Endolori’s  poison  is  used  in  area  denial  situations,  like  riot  suppression.”
Doog: “Sounds brutal.”

Ya-Te-Veo: “Some  of  the  planet’s  other  plant  species  are  even  more  brutal,  but  the  exact  species  and  their  capabilities  are  classified.”

Ya-Te-Veo: “Let’s  just  say  that  the  LIU  has  weaponized  over  forty  Fimbrian  plant  species.  They  range  from  military-grade defoliants  to  irritants  to  mass-casualty bombs.”
Doog: “Are  they  legal?”
Ya-Te-Veo:  “Yes.  Many  are  illegal  to sell  or  use,  but  perfectly  legal  to  stockpile.  You  never  know  when  they  will  come  in  handy.”

Ya-Te-Veo:  “Of  course,  the  LIU  is  still  experimenting. There  are  thousands  of  poisonous  plants  on  Fimbria.  The  LIU  has  just  scratched  the  surface.”
Doog: “Experimenting on people!”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Prisoners,  mostly.  In  the  LIU’s  eyes,  they  are  not  necessarily  people.”

Doog: “Hey! Prisoners and former prisoners are people too.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Perhaps.  It  is  not  for  me  to  decide.  We  generally  only  test  non-lethal  poisons  on  prisoners,  if  that  eases  your  worries.”
Doog: “Except for the part where you said ‘generally’.”

Doog: “More WMD crops?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Not  entirely.  These  are  Éclator,  or  Bursters.  When  ripe,  their  fruiting  bodies  explode,  spreading  their  genetic  material  in  all  directions.”
Doog: “How is that useful outside the porn industry?”
Ya-Te-Veo:  “The what?”
Doog: “Never mind. What are Bursters used for?”

Ya-Te-Veo:  “The  Éclator’s  genetic  material  doesn’t  always  find  other  Éclator,  but  it  doesn’t  matter.  The  Éclator  seed  has  strong  mutagenic  properties.  If  it  lands  on  another  plant,  the  mutagens  begin to  convert  the  plant  into  a  genetically  acceptable  mating  partner.”
Doog: “Huh?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “The  Éclator  plant  temporarily  converts  the  reproduction  systems  of  other  plants  so  they  are capable  of  hybridization  with  the  Éclator.  Essentially,  every  plant  species  on  Fimbria  has  an  infusion  of  Éclator  genetics.  It  also  means  that  new  plant  species  and  hybrids  are  always  being  created.  Along  with  resource  competition, this  rampant  hybridization  is  responsible  for  the diverse  plant  life  here.   It  is  a  remarkable  organism.”

Doog: “Don’t tell me…more experimentation…”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Yes.  The  Éclator   mutagens  have  been  discovered  to  be  compatible  with  human  genetics.”
Doog: “So you’re making mutants!? Why?”

Ya-Te-Veo: “The  humans,  like  the  plants,  are  only  temporarily  mutated  by  the  Bursters.  Just  long  enough  to  breed  Human-Éclator  hybrids.”
Doog: “I’ve been involved in some pretty weird ‘hybrids’, but this is just crazy.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Not  crazy.  Imagine  the  possibilities. They  would  share  the  characteristics  of  both  species.  Imagine  hybrid  soldiers  with  immense  strength  and  speed  with  plant-like  regenerative abilities.  Imagine  hybrids  that  can  breathe  both  oxygen  and  carbon  dioxide.  Imagine  hybrid  soldiers  with  both  photosynthetic  and  metabolic  energy  production  that  would  never  weaken  or  tire.”
Doog: “This sounds like some fringe science here. Hybrid soldiers? Really?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “It  is  not  fringe.  It  has  already  began.”
Doog: “Then why do you keep saying ‘imagine’?”

Ya-Te-Veo: “Because  so  far,  the  hybrids  have  been  less  than  desirable.  The  hybridization  needs  tweaking.”
Doog: “What’s wrong with them? They look fine to me. I mean, they’re creepy plant people, no offense, but they seem to be alive and healthy.”
Ya-Te-Veo:  “It  appears  the  hybrids  inherit  genes  from  the  Éclator  that  make  them  highly  violent  towards  un-hybridized  species.”
Doog: “Like me and you.”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Not  me,  but  definitely  you.  At  some  point,  my  species  must  have  inherited  some  Éclator  genes.   The  hybrids  have  killed  several non-Fimbrian researchers.  Now  they  can  never  leave  these  cells.”

Doog: “You don’t look so bad.”
Hybrid: “HOLLOW BAG OF MEAT AND FAT, IT SICKENS ME TO LOOK AT YOU. PLEASE REMOVE YOUR REPULSIVE, STRUCTURELESS BODY FROM MY SIGHT.”
Doog: “Ok. Maybe a little bad.”
Hybrid: “I CAN SEE YOUR BLOATED FAT TISSUES WIGGLE WITH YOUR EVERY MOVEMENT - LIKE SACKS OF CONGEALED SAP. IT IS A WONDER YOUR SPECIES HAS SURVIVED THIS LONG. YOU ARE FAR FROM SUPERIOR. RELEASE ME AND I WILL END YOUR SUFFERING. I PROMISE YOUR FAT WILL FEEL NO PAIN.”
Doog: “Gee, you’re going a little strong on the fat shaming. Maybe’s there’s a market for you guys as life coaches or personal trainers. I mean, you’d have to stay in some sort of cage to avoid the murdering, but you might be helpful. What do you think, Ya-Te-Veo?”
Ya-Te-Veo: “It  would  not  be  safe.  The  hybrids  could  produce  more  hybrids  and  spread  across  the  galaxy.  We  must  not  let  that  occur.  These  samples  will  be  incinerated  after  being  studied.”

Doog: “Well folks, Fimbria is a pretty interesting place.  There’s lots of interesting plant-life here, including the sentient Fimbrian race.  Most of these unique plants are highly poisonous and dangerous; some have even been weaponized by the LIU. The freakiest thing here has to be these Éclator plants that force other species into hybridization.  They’re even compatible with human DNA, so they’re being used to create a Human/Éclator hybrid. Seriously creepy stuff.  Let’s just say that some fringe science is being conducted here in the fringes of the galaxy. See ya!”
Ya-Te-Veo: “Doog,  I  understand  that  you  wanted  an  interesting  last  shot,  but  you  should  use  caution.  You  are  standing  in  a  Endolori patch.”
Doog: “Totally worth it. Journalism always comes first.”


Note:

Doog: “Totally not worth it. More calamine lotion, pronto.”
Mike: “You have like five layers on.”
Doog: “Well, I guess I need ten layers cause this really hurts.”
Oldie: “Could you at least put some pants on? You weren’t ever exposed to the plants there.”
Doog: "I did some scratching Oldie, especially in my favorite scratching place. I spread it everywhere...."

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                                 LIU Atlas - A14-S25
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another special edition episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we're continuing our tour of the Blattarius Halo, by visiting the space station A14-S25. The station is located in the halo’s outer edge, but it’s much higher above the galactic plane than Nidavellir. It took us almost a week in hyperspace to reach this position above the galaxy. The station was positioned here so that it had line of sight access to the entire galaxy. Why is this important? Because A14-S25 is home to Galactic Radio.”

Doog: “Galactic Radio is the state-run radio station that broadcasts subspace radio signals across the entire galaxy. These signals broadcasts music, news, and emergency information to almost every world in the galaxy. Today, they’re broadcasting an interview with my crew and I. Hopefully, we’ll be able to tour the station for a little bit before our interview.”

Doog: “How do I look?”
Mike: “Seriously? Why you worried about that? We’re doing a radio show.”
Doog: “I don’t know. I’m nervous, I guess. We’ll have a galaxy-wide audience.”
Mike: “I think you’re overestimating the amount of listeners we’ll have. I mean, the station broadcasts galaxy-wide, but who listens to the radio these days.”
Cam: “Yeah, subspace radio is obsolete.”
Oldie: “What! It’s not obsolete! I listen to Galactic Radio all the time.”
Cam: “That’s because you’re old.”
Mike: “Yeah. You’re stuck in the olden days. HoloCorp and TV2 superseded Galactic Radio fifty years ago.”
Cam: “In other words, you‘re the only one of us that was alive when Subspace Radio was cool.”
Doog: “I’m not necessarily worried about the amount of viewers. I mean, I’m a famous TV host, I can handle any audience. I just don’t want to say anything stupid.”
Mike: “I’m pretty sure you’re screwed in that regard.”
Cam: “Yeah…hate to break it to you, but you say stupid stuff all time.”
Oldie: “Not to add to your worries, but you need to remember that the radio show is live. You won’t have Timbo to edit what you say.”
Doog: “Thanks for your support, guys. I really appreciate it.”

Doog: “Why does it smell like Obex in here?”
Mike: “Obex?”
Doog: “Yeah, like a mix of weed and box cows.”
Cam: “If what I’ve heard about Galactic Radio is true, then most of the employees here are space hippies.”
Doog: “Hippies? Out here?”
Cam: “This is perfect hippie territory out here. Far from society, surrounded by music, working in a fading industry that no one really cares about anymore.”
Doog: “Yeah, I guess. Almost makes me want to look for a job opening.”
Oldie: “ For the last time, Galactic Radio is not a fading industry!”

Windsong: “Hey friends. It’s totally awesome that you joined us here today. I’m Windsong, a disc jockey here at Galactic Radio.” 
Doog: “Nice to meet…”
Oldie: “Ooh! Oooh! Windsong! You’re my favorite!”
Windsong: “Thanks, man. You guys are my favorite too. You, like, travel all around the galaxy in a little ship. Very hippie-like.”
Doog: “Hey, there’s always room for one more. We might even leave Oldie here if he likes it so much.”
Cam: “Seems like a fair trade to me.”
Windsong: “That’s a groovy offer, friends, but I really love it here at Galactic Radio. I mean, like, I get to listen to sweet tunes almost all day. Come on, let’s get started with the tour. You’ll see what I mean.”

Windsong: “Galactic Radio’s radical range and reach has aided the music sales of millions of artists across the galaxy. As we journey through the station, you’ll see tons of records that we helped to go Rhenium.”
Doog: “Rhenium?”
Windsong: “Over a billion records sold.”
Doog: “Ah, nice. I never bought music before, so I’m not up on my terminology.”
Windsong: “Never?”
Doog: “Never. It’s too easy to get for free.”
Mike: “It’s not free when you steal it from me, Doog.”
Doog: “Whatever. So, what’s up with all the clocks?”
Windsong: “Oh, those? Well, like, Galactic Radio broadcasts to the entire galaxy, but we base our broadcast schedule on three of the LIU’s most populated worlds: Ludgonia, Fornacis, and Tressis.”

Windsong: “So, this place is truly awesome. This is, like, the technical side of subspace radio. Here, our broadcasts are condensed. It’s totally, like, easier to transmit condensed information. Groovy, huh?”
Doog: “Groovy indeed.”
Windsong: “Galactic Radio broadcasts five different signals. Signal 1 is the audio version of TV2’s Galaxy News. So, like, news and stuff. Signal 2 is the Emergency Broadcast signal. It’s only activated during emergencies. Oh yeah, signals 3 to 5 are music channels. I prefer four, it’s loaded with far out tunes.” 
Oldie: “Four is my favorite too. Easy listening and it has the galaxy’s best DJ, Windsong.”
Windsong: “Aw, thanks, man. I’m stoked you enjoy my show.”

Windsong: “I come here pretty often. I don’t know how most of it works, but I can stare at all these flashing lights forever. It might have something to do with all the psychedelics coursing through my veins though.”
Doog: “So is there some type of employment office on this station? I’m sold.”

Windsong: “It’s going to ruin my buzz, but I think that’s all the time we have. This is, like, the studio. These are the DJ’s that are going to interview you.”
Doog: “Who are they?”
Oldie: “What! Everyone knows these guys, it’s DJ Snot Rocket  and DJ Dreamfruit.”
Windsong: “Yep. Exactly, man.”
Doog: “Of course. I knew that. Stop making me look bad in front of Windsong, Oldie. I listen to Snotfruit and Dream Rocket all the time.”
Oldie: “You got their names backwards.”
Windsong: “Yeah. Not cool, man.”

Windsong: “When they go to commercial, we’ll, like, get you in there.”
Snot Rocket: “Alright brothers and sisters, it’s time to return from the Astral Plane. We have a special guest today. His name is Doog.”
Dreamfruit: “ Doog. Dooog. That name is far out, man. I, like, think we should journey back into the plane a few moments and think about that name. It, like, rolls off the tongue. Dooog.”
Snot Rocket: “Perhaps another time, my brother. For right now, let’s, like, go to a commercial. Then let’s talk to this Doog guy. Dooog. Ha. You’re right about that name.”

Snot Rocket: “Alright, galactic family. We’re back. We have, like, lots of special guests today. I thought it was just this Doog guy, but he brought some of his friends too. There’s Oldie, Cam, and Mike. My favorite far out babe, Windsong, has joined us too. Thanks for being with us today, dudes.”
Doog: “No problem, DJ Dreamfruit. We’re glad to be here. In fact, I might actually end up staying here. It’s pretty sweet here.”
Snot Rocket: “Cool, man. But, I’m DJ Snot Rocket. DJ Dreamfruit is over there.”
Doog: “Oh really? I thought for sure the green guy that looks like a booger was going to be the one called ‘ Snot Rocket’.”
Dreamfruit: “Whoa, dude. That’s harsh. You shouldn’t judge people on their appearances.”
Snot Rocket: “Yeah, totally. You’d think the guy with a face for radio wouldn’t be, like, so quick to judge other people’s looks.”
Doog: “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with my face!”
Dreamfruit: “Calm down, Snot Rocket. Like, don’t get on this Doog guy’s plane. I sense some bad vibes emanating from his plane.”

Doog: “I don’t have bad vibes!”
Snot Rocket: “He, like, even brought his own microphone to the interview. Like, he totally doesn’t want to use our microphones. He’s too good for us or something.”
Windsong: “Whoa. I can sense that now. Sorry brothers. I wouldn’t have brought him if I…”
Doog: “I always have my mic! Don’t you watch my show?”
Dreamfruit: “Not cool to interrupt a lady, man. You’re judgmental and rude. Like, I recommend that no one watches this dude’s show.”
Doog: “What! Screw you! No one listens to your show anyway. I‘m out of here.”
Oldie: “Just for the record, I listen. Also, LIU Atlas airs on TV2. Please watch it despite Doog. Uh…and have a nice day. PS, I love you Windsong.”
Windsong: “Aww.”

Doog: “I thought that went well.”
Cam: “Better than I expected.”
Mike: “Better than anyone expected, really.”
Oldie: “I got to meet Windsong, so there’s that.”
Doog: “So, you’re not mad?”
Oldie: “About what? I knew this was going fail walking in. You’re Doog. And it was live radio.”
Doog: “At least I can live up to your ridiculously low standards. Well folks, A14-S25 is a space station that rests above the galactic plane. It houses Galactic Radio which broadcasts subspace radio signals to all the worlds of the galaxy. It also rests above the astral plane because it is full of space hippies. Oh well, see ya!”



Note: A14-S25, like M31-P5, is named for the compressed star in the center of its Fusion Star Chamber. The star is too small to get an actual name, so it’s named for is coordinates, or location, in the galaxy. See M31-P5 for more details.

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Executive Producers: Ralph DuBreuil , legolifty
Get a Producer's Credit: Click Here

There are billions of stars, millions of planets, but there is only one man, Terrance McDoogal. Welcome to LIU Atlas. 


                                                                 LIU Atlas - Nidavellir
The Ludgonian Industrial Union's galaxy contains billions of stars and billions of planets. Unfortunately, most residents of the LIU could only name a handful of these worlds. In order to improve astronomy grades across the LIU, TV2 has started a new program called LIU Atlas. Follow our host, Terrance McDoogal, as he takes you on a tour across the LIU and some of its more obscure worlds.


Note: This episode is presented in full screen. The corresponding dialogue is underneath each photo.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. For the next few episodes, we’ll be exploring the Blattarius Halo, a ring of dark matter that encircles the galaxy. The actual halo, itself, can not be directly imaged. Dark matter does not interact on the electromagnetic spectrum. However, the halo’s size and structure can be determined with gravitational measurements. It should also be noted that the halo is part of a much larger web of dark matter that fills the universe. This halo-like structure is not unique to the LIU Galaxy.”

Doog: “Our first destination within the halo is the planet, Nidavellir. Nidavellir is a rogue planet, meaning that it has no star. Nidavellir is positioned in the Blattarius Halo’s inner rim, where it orbits the galactic center directly. This position places Nidavellir in gravitational tug-of-war. The halo pulls the planet outward, while the galaxy pulls the planet inward. This constant gravitational battle has liquidized much of Nidavellir’s surface into lava.”

Doog: “Alright. I’ve been dropped off at a facility on the planet’s surface. Despite having no star, Nidavellir is blazing hot. This is due to its thick atmosphere and the constant eruptions of the planet’s molten lava. It’s relatively dark during the day. Other than the lava, the only source of light is the LIU galaxy. Although seen edge-on, the galaxy dominates the sky. You will also notice that I’m wearing an environmental suit. The atmosphere is thick, but it is loaded with poisonous sulfuric gases. In other words, this isn’t a nice planet. 

I’ve been told to meet my guide here. I’ve noticed that they wrote the word ‘wimpy’ over the door. That better not be a knock at me.”

Ul Brin: “Welcome to Nidavellir. I am Ul Brin of the Calx. You must be Doog.”
Doog: “Indeed, I am. So, I was pretty angry when I saw your ‘wimpy’ sign, but now I realize that was not a slight towards me. It’s a description of your little race. What are you, like four feet tall?”
Ul Brin: “Don’t let my size fool you. My silicon-based biology and bio-mechanical suit make me far from wimpy.”
Doog: “So it’s an insult towards me? Did my crew put you up to this?”

Ul Brin: “It’s not an insult. The sign doesn’t even say ‘wimpy’. It says ‘WIMP -Y’. WIMP being an acronym for Weakly Interacting Massive Particles, and Y stands for yellow. This is one of several facilities on the planet’s surface. Each is denoted by a color.”
Doog: “Weak Massive Particles…is that an insult? Are you calling me a wimpy fatty?”
Ul Brin: “Sigh…if I were to insult you, I would take the intelligence angle, given your lack of comprehension. For the last time, I’m not insulting you. WIMP’s are the particles that constitute Dark Matter.”
Doog: “Oh, ok. Gotcha. So, this facility deals with dark matter?”
Ul Brin: “Yes, in a way. Let’s head inside.”

Ul Brin: “This is Lab Y. Before you get offended somehow, lab is short for laboratory. I am not insinuating that you are a dog.”
Doog: “Psssh. I knew that.”
Ul Brin: “The lab’s primary function is the study of dark matter, specifically the collection of dark matter. The LIU has developed some methods, but they are not exactly cheap. We are trying to find better methods.”

Ul Brin: “This is a gravity map of the LIU Galaxy. The Blattarius Halo is clearly visible on the outskirts of the galaxy. We’ve closely mapped this halo to determine the best places to install dark matter collectors.”
Doog: “Install collectors? So, none of the dark matter is collected here on Nidavellir?”
Ul Brin: “Correct. Nidavellir is only the command center for dark matter collection. Because of our position on the inner rim of the halo, Nidavellir is not a good candidate for collections. Costs would be too high.”

Ul Brin: “Dark matter makes up approximately 26% of the universe’s entire mass/energy. It is highly abundant. If it was easy to collect, dark matter would have almost no value. There’s essentially a limitless supply.”
Doog: “I gather it is not easy to collect.”
Ul Brin: “It is not. It is a slow and expensive process. This limits the supply, raising its value. The LIU wants to be the first to find better collection methods, so they can take advantage of the high market prices.”
Doog: “I see. So, that’s all you do here? Coordinate dark matter collection and look for faster methods of collection? This is going to be a short episode.”
Ul Brin: “No. There is much more. Follow me.”

Ul Brin: “Nidavellir was chosen for this role for several reasons. For one, it is home to my species. We play an important role in dark matter collections. The cheapest process of collection produces enormous amounts of radiation. Most biological beings could not survive on a collector for very long. My race’s silicon-based biology is resistant to radiation.”
Doog: “I’m scheduled to visit one of these collectors soon, so that’s nice to know.”
Ul Brin: “Yeah, good luck with that. Anyway, Nidavellir is also home to an important mining industry. Turn left here.”

Doog: “What kind of mining do you do?”
Ul Brin: “Nidavellir has high concentrations of metals from the platinum group, specifically Osmium. Osmium is the densest naturally occurring element. Its rigidity, toughness, and durability is necessary in the construction of dark matter collectors.”
Doog: “I might start calling some of my crew members Osmium, because they are so freaking dense sometimes. Ha, I crack myself up.”
Ul Brin: “They are not alone in their denseness, I assure you.”
Doog: “Yeah…hey wait, are you talking about me?”
Ul Brin: “I’ve been accused of insulting you all day…I figured I would actually throw in a real one.”

Ul Brin: “I will continue on while you contemplate your comeback. The lava pits of Nidavellir are home to more than just Osmium. They are the primordial pools that my species was born in.”
Doog: “Ha. Got my comeback. You were born out of a hole! Wait. I guess technically, I was too. Hmmm. I‘ll come up with something,”
Ul Brin: “Take your time. Now, as I was saying, my species was born in pools like this. We would have remained there too, if not for the Lifters.”
Doog: “The Lifters?”
Ul Brin: “Yes. Let’s head back inside.”    

Ul Brin: “The Museid race, better known as the Lifters, also call Nidavellir home.”
Doog: “Which ones? The monkeys or the scary looking guys with the helmets?”
Ul Brin: “Not the monkeys, Mr. Osmium.”
Doog: “I was kidding, So, do these guys carry lots of stuff or something? Why are they called the lifters? ”

Ab Demwa: “Because we use advanced genetics to lift other species from pre-sentience to sentience. It is a process known as uplift. I am Ab Demwa, by the way. I’ll be your guide for the remaining portion of this tour.” 
Doog: “Uplift?”
Ab Demwa: “Yes. It is an advanced process that involves genetic manipulation. Essentially, we give species that are close to sentience a little kick. We boost them to the next level.”
Doog: “Any species that I know?”
Ab Demwa: “We’ve experimented with uplifting several intelligent animal species around the galaxy. We’ve had a few successes. The Calx race is probably our best work though.”
Doog: “Wait, Ul Brin, you’ve been uplifted?”

Ul Brin: “Yes. The Lifters rescued my species from the unknowing ignorance of non-sentience. We are indebted to them.”
Doog: “These red rock things are you before uplift?”
Ul Brin: “Yes. But we weren’t rocks; just immobile, intelligent life forms on the edge on sentience. The Lifters brought us over the edge.”  
Doog: “Interesting. And now I suppose you are looking to uplift monkeys? Otherwise, the whole monkey jail thing is a little weird.”

Ab Demwa: “Yes. They are a species we are experimenting with. We’ve had some mixed results thus far. Take a look at Kiko over there.”
Kiko: “Me Kiko. Me like bananas. Me not monkey. Me like bananas.”
Ab Demwa: “We’ve lifted Kiko to the extent that she has some signs of sentience: speech, emotions, and self-awareness. There’s work to be done though.”
Doog: “Like what?”
Kiko: “Me rip off everyone’s arms if no banana. Me throw poo. Me Kiko.”
Doog: “Never mind. So what’s next?
Ab Demwa: “Follow me.”

Doog: “What is this? Are you uplifting your own species?”
Ab Demwa: “Unfortunately, we are not. These are hibernation tanks. We keep half our population in stasis, or hibernation, at all times.”
Doog: “Why?”
Ab Demwa: “My species is endangered. In fact, endangered is not even the correct word. My species is pre-extinct.”
Doog: “I don’t get it. How are you pre-extinct?”
Ab Demwa: “We were too quick, too eager to exploit our genetic expertise. Millions of modifications to our genes rendered us nearly immortal, but such genetic manipulation came at a price. We lost the ability to reproduce.”
Doog: “If you’re immortal, why is reproduction a big deal? It’s fun and all, but it’s no longer necessary to keep your race from going extinct.”

Ab Demwa: “Yes, we once believed the same, but remember, I said nearly immortal. We’ve fixed all physical flaws, we no longer age, and we are immune to all disease. But that is not enough. We are still vulnerable to trauma.”
Doog: “So, in other words, you can be shot and killed, but you’ll never die of the flu.”
Ab Demwa: “Exactly. Trauma was never really an issue before. Besides an accident here and there, almost none of my race ever died.”
Doog: “I’m sensing a sad, arrival-of-the-LIU, story.”
Ab Demwa: “Yes. We foolishly believed our genetic superiority would allow us to prevail against the LIU during the Mid Rim Unification War. We were wrong. The LIU destroyed our homeworld, resulting in the death of 99.99% of my race. There are less than fifty of us now.”
Doog: “Sorry to hear that. The LIU can be harsh.”
Ab Demwa: “No need to be sorry. It’s easy to blame the LIU, but we were foolish to resist…foolish to make these modifications to our genetics. All we can do now is attempt to leave a mark on the galaxy before we all depart.”

Doog: “Fifty is not a lot, but there’s still some of you left. If you’re careful, your race will be here for a long while.”
Ab Demwa: “Yes. We hope. That’s part of the reason we’ve moved to the edge of the galaxy. It’s safer here. We’re far from exploding suns, meteors and asteroids, and other cataclysmic, civilization-ending events. We wear specialized, armored suits that offer us maximum protection. We also, as you see, keep part of our population in stasis, safe from all external dangers.” 
Doog: “Is cloning an option? Could you clone more of your race?”
Ab Demwa: “It is possible, I suppose, to make exact genetic copies of ourselves, but we have not been given permission to attempt this yet. The LIU funds all our genetic research. We have already made the mistake of crossing the LIU once…we will not cross them ever again. For now, we are focusing on uplifting species chosen by the LIU.”
Doog: “The LIU chose to uplift the Calx?”
Ab Demwa: “Yes. Their biology made them perfect workers for the dark matter collectors. We‘ve lifted thousands of them.”

Doog: “Alright, what am I seeing here?”
Ab Demwa: “This is where we uplift the Calx.”
Doog: “How is it done?”
Ab Demwa: “ It’s much too complicated to explain to a laymen. I guess you can say that it involves splicing more advanced segments of DNA into the non-sentient beings. That’s dumbing it down a lot though. There’s DNA imprinting, mutation controls, and RNA retro-animation too.”
Doog: “So much for dumbing it down. I only understood like three words in that last statement.”
Ab Demwa: “Indeed. It’s very complicated.”

Doog: “You said that this is where you uplift the Calx. Are you still uplifting them?”
Ab Demwa: “The process of uplift starts with creating a large, genetically diverse population. We can’t let them reproduce on their own just yet; there’s more diversity required. So, yes. We are still uplifting non-sentient Calx into the sentient beings you see here. Each non-sentient is genetically altered and then left to grow into their new form in mutation control pools like this.”

Ul Baby: “Momma, dadda.”
Doog: “Uh, maybe we should go. I already have enough alleged children out around the galaxy, I don‘t need another. Besides, he looked at me when he said momma…which is somewhat damaging to my manliness.”
Ab Demwa: “Yeah, we better head out before we imprint on him too much. Follow me.”

Ab Demwa: “We are building up a solid population before we begin to allow the Calx to reproduce on their own. However, we have began testing the Calx to make sure reproduction is possible. This is important if they are to be a viable, long-term race. We’d hate for our genetic alterations to render the Calx sterile like us.”
Doog: “Testing? Are we watching what I think I we’re watching?”
Ab Demwa: “We are watching a breeding session between to Calx.”
Doog: “Holy Kaadu! That’s what I thought. So gross…so wrong…yet…yet I can not seem to turn away. I feel like I should be inserting dollars somewhere. Do I leave a tip?”

Doog: “Well folks, Nidavellir is an interesting place. It houses the base of operations for all dark matter collection in the LIU Galaxy. It’s home to the Calx, a race of beings being uplifted in order to populate the dark matter collectors. Nidavellir is also home to the last of the Lifters, a fading race of expert geneticists. It also has some of the galaxy’s worst peep shows. There's some seriously weird stuff going on right behind me. Weird stuff that I am going to return to viewing in just a few seconds. Got to go. See ya!”


Note:

Doog: “Well, that gives another definition to rock hard…”