Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Pluvia. Most of Pluvia is made up of barren, rocky deserts, but it does have some temperate regions. These temperate regions experience seasonal rains, allowing for periodic plant growth. A sentient race has emerged here, and they take advantage of these seasonal growths. Let’s head down and find out what that’s all about.”

Doog: “Alright folks, here we are. I’ve been dropped off in the wastes of Pluvia. This is a region that never experiences rain. I guess they they call it the ‘wastes’, because it’s a waste of space. Nothing grows here. It’s hot, dry, rocky, and sandy. Emphasis on the sandy…my right shoe is full of it. Ah, I think I see my guide now.”

Derek: “Ugh, why are you so far out here?! We’re miles from the settlement. It’s going to take us an hour just to get to where the tour should have started.”
Doog: “Sorry, I wanted to unibrows the…I mean browse the wastelands before I saw the settlements, so I could compare the two. I’m Doog, by the way.”
Derek: “I know who you are. That’s why I’m talking to you. I don’t make it a habit to talk to random guys in the desert wastelands.”
Doog: “I was introducing myself so we can segue into your introduction. I KNOW you know who I am…I’m a famous TV Host.”
Derek: “Yeah sure. I’m Derek, Operations Hydrologist and unfortunate master of drawing the shortest stick.”
Doog: “Sounds like you don’t want to be here.”
Derek: “Let’s put it this way. It’s my day off, and, instead of relaxing at home, I’m here with you. Not to mention, I have the worst headache right now. I’m not sure if it’s the seasonal high pressure, this heat, or dealing with you. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get started. We have a hike on our hands.”

Derek: “Geez, we’re out past Creek Camp. This is ridiculous.”
Doog: “Creek Camp? What’s that?”
Derek: “The locals have camps all around this region. Back when they were nomadic, they moved from camp to camp following the rains.”
Doog: “There’s still some water here. I’m surprised I don’t see more locals.”
Derek: “The water won’t last. This creek is days from running dry. Besides, the Pluvians aren’t nomadic anymore. The LIU has given them permanent settlements. These camps are largely abandoned now.”
Doog: “Why did the LIU make the Pluvians settle permanently?”
Derek: “Because the nomadic lifestyle made the Pluvians useless to the LIU. The LIU doesn’t want them chasing the rains. They want them to…”

Derek: “…farm. We’re finally here.”
Doog: “Wow, this is a lot different. What do they farm?”
Derek: “Sakit, a native bush.”
Doog: “These blue bushes?”
Derek: “Yeah, the only bushes you can see. The ones all around us.”
Doog: “I’m just looking for clarity, for the viewers sake.”
Derek: “Well, I think it was pretty clear already. Your follow up questions are worsening my headache.”
Doog: “Well, get ready for some pain because I have tons of questions. What is Sakit used for? Is it a food? A drug?”
Derek: “Sakit is a spice. Before you ask, it’s a food-spice, not drug-spice. It is piquant and aromatic. Before you ask, that means it is pleasantly tangy and smells good. It’s often added to dishes to mildly increase its spiciness.”
Doog: “Quit taking all my questions!”
Derek: “No, I don’t think I will. Things will go faster and my head might hurt less.”

Doog: “What is…”
Derek: “This is a water rig. It’s like an oil rig, but it collects water from deep underground, instead of oil. Pluvia may not have dependable rains, but it is rich with large aquifers. Millions of gallons of water sit below the surface. By tapping the aquifers, the LIU has given the Pluvians access to large quantities of water. They no longer need to follow the rains. They have all the water they need right here.”

Derek: “Of course, drilling for water isn’t cheap. Sakit is valuable, but its production hardly warrants the costs of such an expensive endeavor. Luckily, the LIU found worth in the aquifers themselves.”
Doog: “In wha…”
Derek: “A millennia of seasonal rains have flushed surface minerals into the aquifers, chiefly salt and lithium. These rigs process the brine solution drawn up from the aquifer and turn it into clean water, salt, and lithium. The mineral value of the salt and lithium help make Sakit farming more financially viable.”
Doog: “What…”
Derek: “You can’t possibly have a question at this point. I’ve covered everything.”

Derek: “I mean…I guess I can tell you about the process. It involves MOF’s, which, before you ask, stands for metal-organic frameworks. These ‘sponges’ of metal ions capture the salt and lithium from the water using little energy.”

Doog: “You can take my questions all you want, but beware. When I don’t have questions, I have remarks.”
Derek: “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Doog: “I don’t know. Maybe I will remark about that large caterpillar crawling over your eyes…oh, wait…that’s your singular eyebrow.”
Derek: “Oh, it’s ON! There’s no way you’re getting in a question. The Pluvians have been harvesting Sakit for centuries, but never in this quantity. Sakit used to grow seasonally, with the rains. The Pluvians grabbed it when they could, but it was only an occasional treat. With more water, the locals can farm the spice all year long.”

Doog: “Wh…”
Derek: “That’s a LIU Harvester Mech. It aids the locals in harvesting Sakit. It has a multi-spectral scanner that picks the best quality leaves. The leaves picked by the harvesters are higher quality. The good leaves are sold separately under the name, Sakito. Sakito is more expensive, but much more pungent.”
Doog: “No wonder you have a headache. You have a massive eyebrow pulling your forehead down! Eyebrow, not eyebrows!”
Derek: “The Harvester has four independent legs to make it easier to walk the terraced fields. Each is power by its own Engyne Power Drive. The Harvester can operate for sixteen hours before its power drives need recharged.”
Doog: “I…”
Derek: “The mech has two dexterous pruning arms that can easily separate the leaves from the plant with no damage.”
Doog: “But can it separate your eyebrows? That’s the real question.”

Derek: “Must give random facts about the rig. Let’s see. The rig is crewed by four people: a hydrologist, two mechanics, and a laborer. There are no crew accommodations on the rig. We don’t sleep or eat here. There’s a LIU facility for that. Bathrooms too. The rig runs twenty hours a day, six days a week. That’s around the clock on this planet. I need to think of more! What else can I say!?”
Doog: “Don’t worry. I’m not up here to ask questions. This is purely a time-wasting maneuver.”
Derek: “What do you mean?”
Doog: “I don’t usually go up on things like this, given the option. Unfortunately for you, this rig has an elevator. It was easy to come up here and waste more of your day off.”
Derek: “Jerk! That wasted another fifteen minutes!”
Doog: “You started this war. How’s that headache feeling?”

Derek: “The Pluvians are a hardy race, built for endurance. In the nomadic-times, they’d walk hundreds of miles, following the rains. Now, they invest that energy into working the fields. They almost never need a break. They are able to work with little water and food, another adaptation.”
Doog: “Do they eat the spice?”
Derek: “Dang it! You got one in! They eat Sakit sparingly. Most of the crop is shipped off world. The Pluvians eat the lower-grade Sakit and imported animals, like chickens. You might see some wandering the fields. They are great for eating pests too.”
Doog: “The Pluvians or the chickens?”
Derek: “The chickens! These are the annoying, pointless, rhetorical questions that make my head want to explode!”
Doog: “Do they pluck the chickens?”
Derek: “Another pointless question! Why does that matter?!”
Doog: “That’s a segue into asking if you pluck your eyebrows. Another pointless question, given what we’re seeing.”
Derek: “GRR!”

Derek: “The CCA, or Camp Creek Aquifer provides enough water to farm 500 km². Clean, processed water, from the rig, is piped to fields like this. The water is sprayed into terraced fields, ensuring the excess water drains back into the aquifer.”
Doog: “I’m running out of remarks…um…how many square kilometers is your center brow?”

Derek: “My temples are pulsating right now! I don’t know if I can tolerate you much more.”
Doog: “Then stop with the spewing of facts and allow me one question. Are we almost done? Believe it or not, I don’t want to be here anymore that you do.”
Derek: “Thankfully, we’re nearing the end. This is the LIU facility at CCA. It’s our home and base of operations. It’s also where we bundle and ship Sakit, salt, and lithium. Let’s head inside and finish this.”

Derek: “Picked Sakit is transported to this facility by machines we call, ‘Camels’. They are actually CML’s or Computerized Mechanical Lifters. They can carry about a hundred pounds of leaves.”
Doog: “But can they carry your…never mind. I won’t go there. Let’s get this over with.”

Derek: “For Sakit to be used as a spice, it must be dried and crushed. We don’t do that here. We ship fresh leaves to food processing centers on other planets. This keeps the Sakit from going bad. Sakit is shipped by the bushel in large nets.”
Doog: “Passing up on eyebrow jokes about bushels. Please continue.”
Derek: “I think that is about it. I’m out of here.”

Derek: “I can’t believe I wasted three hours of my life on this. I just want to get home, take some painkillers, and forget today.”
Doog: “Wait! What if I’m not ready to be done yet? What if I have more questions?”
Derek: “We had a truce. No more questions.”
Doog: “But I want to learn about this remote control. What does this button do? Does it control the Camel?”

Derek: “Ouch! Ouch! What’s happening?! My head hurts even worse now.”
Doog: “Uhhh…”
Guy: “That remote controls the lift crane, not the CML.”
Doog: “Oops.”
Derek: “Why can’t I move?! Why does my head feel like it’s in a vice?! Why can’t I turn my head?!”
Doog: “Um…the headache might have turned into a migraine? It probably has nothing to do with a crane…”
Derek: “Did you say crane?! Did you clamp my head into the bundler?!”
Doog: “If I did, and I’m not saying I did, would you be opposed to an eyebrow shave while you’re clamped in?”
Derek: “No! Don’t touch me! Let me go!”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Pluvia. The native Pluvians used to be nomads, roaming the planet following the rains. Now, with help from the LIU, they live in more permanent settlements. The LIU made this possible by tapping into Pluvia’s rich, brine aquifers. The LIU didn’t do it out of good will; they get stuff in return, like salt, lithium, and the spice, Sakit. Pluvia is also home to the galaxy’s largest unibrow, thanks to Derek here. Unfortunately, he won’t hold that title for long. Me and this guy are going to remedy that.”
Guy: “I didn’t agree to that.”
Derek: “When I get out of here, you’re a dead man!”
Doog: “On second thoughts, I might just leave. Oh well, see ya!”


Note: The galaxy’s largest unibrow actually belongs to a hillbilly named, Rusty Clem, a resident of the Anulus Pomarii Belt. The publication, Unibrows United, gave Clem the title after long-time-record-holder, Ray-Ray, lost his unibrow in a fire. 

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

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Deorsum. Deorsum is the closest planet to the Class-G star, Iusum. Deosum’s proximity to its star, its slow rotation, and minimal axial tilt have created permanent summertime conditions on the planet. Temperatures here usually exceed 50 degrees Celsius. It’s going to be a hot one.”

Doog: “It’s midmorning, and it is already way too hot. I’ve sweat through my deodorant already. Yikes. Despite the heat, there’s tons of plants here. There are grasslands as far as the eye can see. There’s also this snootily attired man standing behind me. I think he’s my guide.”

Doog: “What’s going on? Are you my guide?”
Chad: “Am I, Chadwick Pennington the Fourth, your guide? Do I look like a commoner? I’m the planet’s largest land owner, you foolish man.”
Doog: “Wow, sorry. I didn’t know you were so important. You look like you’re twelve.”
Chad: “I’m NOT a child! I’m a filthy rich, adult landowner that happens to take care of his skin.”
Doog: “Ok! Ok! No need to freak out. So, you own a lot of these grasslands?”
Chad: “I own about ninety percent of the planet, so yeah, you could say that. I’d own the whole damn planet if it wasn’t for the holdouts. Don’t worry, I’m coming for them some day. Then, Deorsum will be renamed, Chadwick Pennington the Fifth. After that, everyone will know how rich I am! Hoo-ha-ha-ha.”

Doog: “You’re rich?”
Chad: “Are you not listening bonehead! I practically own an entire planet.”
Doog: “I know…it’s just something about your house.”
Chad: “What about my house!?”
Doog: “It’s so small. I’ve seen trailers and shacks bigger than this. Maybe you should buy less land and put a second room on this thing.”
Chad: “Imbecile! This isn’t my whole house! This is just a mudroom and a tanning deck. The rest of my house is below ground.”
Doog: “Below ground?”
Chad: “Duh! Most houses on Deorsum are underground to avoid the heat, stupid prole.”
Doog: “Got it. Well, if you’re not my guide, I think I’m done talking to you. It’s too hot to be put down by some whiny, ascot-wearing teenager.”
Chad: “I’m twenty-four!!”

Doog: “Yeah, sure. And…you have an underground mansion…”
Chad: “I do!”
Doog: “I don’t usually like dealing with robots over people, but I might make an exception. I think I’m going to leave you here at your hut. See ya, Chapstick Penny-Loafer the Fourth. Hope we never meet again!”
Chad: “You’re so infuriating! I am rich! I do have a mansion! I own everything you see!”
Doog: “Yeah, ok. Bye.”
Chad: “I’ll prove it. Hey you! Come here! Yes, you! Come over here right now!”

Clarabelle: “Yes, Mr. Pennington? Are you speaking to me, sir?”
Chad: “Tell this distrusting vagabond how rich I am!”
Clarabelle: “Mr. Pennington is very wealthy man. He owns most of the planet.”
Chad: “See!”
Doog: “I believe. I believe. It’s too hot to debate. I’m dying out here. Can we please move on?”
Chad: “Ha! I win again!”
Doog: “You win. Now, can you direct me to my guide?”
Chad: “Oh yeah. I forgot why you were here. Um, robot, what is your designation?”
Clarabelle: “I’m Clarabelle, Mr. Pennington.”
Chad: “Clarabelle? Did we run out of numbers to assign? Ah forget it. Who cares? Show this guy around MY planet.”
Clarabelle: “Yes sir.”

Doog: “I don’t know how you put up with that man. What a pretentious ascot-hole!”
Clarabelle: “I don’t deal with him often. He usually doesn’t speak with ‘the help’.”
Doog: “I guess being an inanimate robot has its perks. You’re lucky, Clarabelle.”
Clarabelle: “I’m not a robot.”
Doog: “Huh? You look like a robot. Are you inside that thing? How are you fitting in there? Are you super skinny?”
Clarabelle: “Oh, my bodies not in here. Just my mind.”
Doog: “Wait…you’ve been uploaded? Is this thing like a dream mech?”
Clarabelle: “You’re familiar with the process?”
Doog: “Too familiar.”
Clarabelle: “I won’t waste much time explaining it then. The fields of Deorsum are too hot for workers. Afternoon temperatures surpass 50 Celsius. Workers could probably survive the morning, but that’s not enough time to tend the fields. Instead, we upload into these Dream-Mechs. Our bodies slumber comfortably in the under-city while we work in this heat.”

Doog: “So, what crop is so important that dream-mechs are required?”
Clarabelle: “Rubha Shrubs.”
Doog: “Wait…are you saying ‘rubber’ with a bad accent? Or is it really Rubha Shrubs?”
Clarabelle: “It’s really Rubha. It’s not without coincidence though. I think they were named to mimic the sound of rubber.”
Doog: “Why do that?”
Clarabelle: “I guess because Chadwick Pennington the First wasn’t very imaginative, and the shrubs are used to make a rubber product.”
Doog: “I wish the original Pennington used some of those rubbers so we didn’t have to deal with his bigheaded great grandson.”
Clarabelle: “Ha! That’s funny. Rubha has an emulsion similar to latex, so that joke is perfect. However, Rubha is used to make more complex things than protection.”

Doog: “Speaking of protection, how safe is it for us to be standing by this open hole in the ground?”
Anabelle: “For me, it’s super safe. My physical body is safe and sound. Probably not that safe for you, though.”
Doog: “That’s what I was thinking. Why is there a hole here anyway?”

Clarabelle: “It’s an access point, connecting the surface to the under-city below.”
Doog: “Yeah, I heard you say under-city before. What’s that?”
Clarabelle: “It’s just like it sounds – a city below the surface of Deorsum where it’s much cooler.”
Doog: “You live in this under-city?”
Clarabelle: “Of course. All residents live below the surface. There’s nothing but Rubha plantations on the surface.”
Doog: “How do we get down there? Cooler sounds so good right now.”
Clarabelle: “Well, this access point is usually used to lower Rubha Fruits into the under-city. It’s not typically used for personnel. We might have to hike a mile or so to a dream-mech port.”
Doog: “Or…you could lower me down on that crane.”
Clarabelle: “That might work, if you’re up to it.”
Doog: “Oh, I’m up for it. I need out of this heat. The question is, is the crane up for it? I’m a little on the heavy side.”

Clarabelle: “Are you doing ok?”
Doog: “I’m doing great. I'm more worried about the crane. Does it always make that noise?"
Clarabelle: "I think we might be testing its limits, but you should be ok."
Doog: "Well, if it breaks, at least I'll get to experience the coolness of the under-city for a few terrifying seconds before I die."
Clarabelle: "It's only fifteen feet down. You'll probably live."
Doog: "Not with my luck, Clarabelle. Not with my luck..."

Doog: “I’m not going to lie; the under-city is a bit disappointing.”
Clarabelle: “How so?”
Doog: “Well, it is cooler than the surface, but it’s still pretty hot down here. I risked my life on that crane for almost no reason.”
Clarabelle: “We’re still pretty close to the surface. You can see the sun coming through the grates overhead. That being said, it’s still twenty degrees cooler down here.”
Doog: “Yeah, it’s definitely better, but in my mind, I was thinking the undercity was perfectly chilled with a big AC or something.”
Clarabelle: “Ha, no wonder you were disappointed. There’s definitely no air conditioning in the walkways. The cool air would just leak out.”

Clarabelle: “Ah, we’re finally here. I need to re-dock my dream-mech and transfer back to my body. Give me five minutes and then meet me inside that door straight ahead.”
Doog: “Uh, sure. Five minutes. I definitely have a watch or other time keeping device. See ya then.”

Clarabelle: “Wow, ha. You have no sense of time. It’s been like one minute.”
Doog: “Sorry, sorry. I’ll close my eyes.”
Clarabelle: “It’s ok. I have my upload jammies on. Good thing your sense of time was so far off. Another minute you might have caught me changing.”
Doog: “Dang! Even when I mess up, I can’t get it right! I mean…uh…sorry. I’ll be out in the hall. You come out when you’re finished.”
Clarabelle: “That’s probably our best bet.”

Doog: “It feels even better here. It’s almost room temperature. My sweat rate has dropped to twenty-five percent.”
Clarabelle: “The lower you descend, the better it feels.”
Doog: “Do you live down here?”
Clarabelle: “Nope. Dream-workers like myself usually live close to the surface. That’s where the upload machines are. They need to be close to the surface to ensure the signal gets out.”
Doog: “So, what’s down here?”
Clarabelle: “There’s plenty of workers here besides us dream-jockeys. There are factory workers, support staff, bot-repair mechanics, and so on. They live here in the mid-level of the under-city. We’re headed down even farther to the Rubha Processing Center.”

Clarabelle: “Processing centers, like this, are dispersed amongst the under-city. Each processes the Rubha from its region.”
Doog: “What are they making again? Rubber?”
Clarabelle: “Rubha Fruits contain numerous fibers and an emulsifying sap. The combination creates a flexible, yet sturdy form of rubber called Deor. It’s used to make fuel lines, hoses, and even some garments.”

Clarabelle: “Delivery workers, that we call porters, transport Rubha Fruits from the access points to the factory. The fruits then get dropped into the grinder where they are smashed and shredded into pulp. This pulp contains the strong fibers and the emulsion sap.”

Clarabelle: “Special weaving machines turn the fibrous emulsion into long strands of Deor. The strands of Deor can be spun around a spool to be sold as is, but ..."

Clarabelle: "...​this regional processing center takes it another step and weaves the strands into long hoses. Each regional processing center makes a different product though, so this might not be the same at each center.”
Doog: “Same basic idea though. Good enough for me.”

Doog: “Since we’ve returned to the heat, I’m guessing we’ve concluded the tour.”
Clarabelle: “I believe that’s everything.”
Doog: “Too bad, this was fun. It was much better than the beginning with Lord Heavy Petting or whatever his name was.”
Clarabelle: “Ha! It was fun, but maybe we should lay off Mr. Pennington. I have to stay here, unlike you.”
Doog: “Well, I don’t want to get you in trouble, but the guys a level seven douche.”
Clarabelle: “He’s a level ten boss!”
Doog: “Ok, that sounded forced, but I won’t press you any further.”

Doog: “Well, that’s Deorsum. Workers here upload into machines to work the deadly hot grasslands. They collect Rubha to make strong rubbers. Rubbers to make hoses, not to protect hoses. That was a bad joke, but I’m so hot; I can’t think of anything better. Oh well! See ya!”
 
 
Note:

​Wife #3: “What’s wrong Chadwick? Your game seems off.”
Chad: “My game is fine! I rule this planet!”
Wife #6: “Yes, my lord, but you’ve served three straight balls into the fan. What’s bothering you?”
Chad: “Why did I meet that inhuman TV host at my mudroom!? I looked so feeble! Why didn’t I meet him at my tennis court! Or my ballroom! Or my mansion!”

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

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the unique planet, Diu Nox. Diu Nox sits uncomfortably close to its parent star, making most of the planet uninhabitable. However, the planet’s two poles are much cooler. One of these poles is home to the trade city, Crapula. Crapula might have the right temperature, but there are drawbacks to being situated on the planet’s south pole, especially with Diu Nox’s axial tilt and wobble. Essentially, the city undergoes multiple phases – a hundred days of night, a transitional period, a hundred days of day, and then another transitional period. We’ve come to Diu Nox at the end of the ‘Long Night’. And, that means…”

Doog: “…we’re here just in time for one of the galaxy’s biggest parties! That’s right! It’s the New Dawn Festival. Bring on the booze! Bring on the food! Bring on the ladies with lowered inhibitions! Wait…this doesn’t look like a party…this looks like normal. What’s the deal?”

Amaya: “We’re not at the party yet. This is a parking garage.”
Doog: “I didn’t come here to see this society’s parking culture! Where’s the party!”
Amaya: “This is the closest landing site I could secure. Diu Nox’s population swells during the festival. Millions come for this party. We’re going to have to walk from here.”
Doog: “Parties are on the short list of things I will walk for. Let’s head out.”

Amaya: “I hope you can make an exception for stairs too. We need to head down a few stories to get to the street level.”
Doog: “I can navigate down the stairs for a party. Not sure about the return trip.”

Oldie: “Now this is my type of party!”
Amaya: “We’re not downtown yet. This isn’t the party.”
Oldie: “Smells like a party.”
Doog: “He’s not lying.”
Mike: “I think this is a restaurant district.”
Oldie: “Like I said…my type of party.”

Cam: “There’s a giant picture of meat on the wall. It doesn’t get more festive than that!”
Doog: “While I enjoy meat as much as the next man, I’m not here for a sausage party. We need to keep searching for the festival.”

Mike: “It wouldn’t hurt to grab something to eat before the party. We need some food in our stomachs before drinking.”
Doog: “That just makes the drinking part more expensive.”
Seitse: “I’m not sure about that, but eating exotic vegetables might not be the best idea before drinking. I’d hate to have a reaction.”
Amaya: “Yeah, Seitse is right. Diu Nox is a trade city. The produce here is from the surrounding sector. I don’t know what most of these fruits and vegetables are.”

Oldie: “Who said anything about vegetables! There’s a drive-thru burger joint, a Deli, and a Diner.”
Doog: “Do you guys really want Oldie to pick another restaurant? I still have flashbacks from the Space Sushi incident.”
Mike: “Ooh…I just lost my appetite.”
Cam: "The city is called, Crapula, after all. Better not risk it.”
Doog: “Yeah, if this town lives up to its name, we're in trouble."
Amaya: “I have no idea what the Space Sushi incident refers to, but we can get food later, after we drink.”
Doog: “Now you're thinking."
 
​
One Hour Later

Doog: “This place is great! There’s a whole street full of nothing but bars! It’s like a Mall of Bars. Best party ever!”
Amaya: “We’re not even at the party yet. We’re on the outskirts. These bars are a tourist trap. They literally call this street, Rookie Road.”
Doog: “Speaking of rookies, I made a rookie mistake. I forgot to bring a puke bucket. Did you bring your purse? I might need it later.”
Amaya: “You’re not puking in my purse! In fact, you need to slow down. No puking, period!”
Doog: “That’s easy to say now. But these babies are sliding down super-fast. They’re too good.”

Mike: “What kind of Foo Foo drink is that?”
Doog: “This isn’t a girlie drink, despite its appearance. These are strong. Even Amaya is having one.”
Mike: “Yeah, but what is it?”
Doog: “I don’t know, but it’s probably called something manly, like Dude Hammer Punch.”
Amaya: “They’re called Passion Sunrises. I got the Merum Fruit flavor. Doog got the Pumpleknucks flavor.”
Mike: “Haha. Doog’s drinking a Pumpleknucks Passion Sunrise!”
Doog: “Am not! This is...uh…blue whiskey. Stop making me look bad, Amaya!”

Cam: “Dark Yak Whiskey…it doesn’t get better than this. It’s aged in outer space!
Timbo: “I’m more interested in what Oldie is drinking. It smells like pure alcohol.”
Oldie: “Well…young man…burp…I was tryin to impress the ladies…at the bar. I said, ‘Give me your strongest stuffs’. I slammed it down…like a champ some might say, but…burp…they weren’t looking so I ordered another. That…happened…three times…maybe five. Then I came over here.”
Cam: “You’re going to be hammered in a few minutes. I hope Doog brought the puke bucket.”
Timbo: “I don’t want to babysit him. Let’s rejoin the rest of the group and pawn him off on someone else.”

Amaya: “Now this is a party, guys!”
Doog: “There’s tons of people here. There’s hardly any room to walk around.”
Seitse: “AKA, a party.”
Doog: “It’s a party, yes. But I liked the chill atmosphere back at the rookie place. Besides, there were drunk chicks flashing everyone back there. I miss that.”
Amaya: “This festival isn’t about women showing their breasts, Doog.”
Doog: “It is for me!”

Amaya: “Get your mind out of the gutter. Enjoy the music and the drinks!”
Doog: “Fine. I guess the music isn’t half bad.”
Mike: “I think this is the band, Au Revoir.”
Cam: “I heard they used to open for Maddie and the Soap Buckets. They must be a pretty big band.”
Oldie: “Swesha lemme…kids…my drunks.”
Doog: “Alright, Oldie is wasted. Ooh, just saw someone flash the band! It wasn’t a human boob, but this place is seeming better!”

Doog: “Maybe we can fight our way closer to the stage and get into prime flashing territory.”
Seitse: “Doog!”
Doog: “And see the band better. Let me finish.”
Amaya: “I have a better idea. I reserved us a party deck. We’ll have one of the best views of the party.”
Seitse: “That’s awesome!”
Cam: “Nice surprise, boss. Thanks!”

Amaya: “No worries. A family friend owns the building behind me. It hardly cost me anything.”
Doog: “It won’t put me close to the flashers, but I’ll be able to see more. I can do quantity over quality.”
Amaya: “For the Emperor’s sake, get your mind out of the gutter!”

Doog: “Speaking of getting things out of the gutter…who’s carrying Oldie up to the party deck?”
Cam: “Hold my whiskey. I’ll get him.”

Doog: “Ladies and gentlemen, we started at the bottom, and now we’re at the top.”
Seitse: “Are you giving us a play-by-play of our movements?”
Mike: “I think that’s the Passion Sunrise talking.”
Doog: “No, I’m trying to be metaphorical or something. Like, we literally went up to the top, but we’ve been figuratively rising too. We used to fight for crumbs between episodes, and now, we’re on the top deck at the galaxy’s biggest party. Can it get any better?”

Amaya: “I think it can. I ordered us some pizzas.”
Doog: “Am I crying? I think I’m crying. What is this Passion Sunrise doing to me! Does this thing have hormones in it?”
Mike: “I think you’re having a metamorphosis or something. Like becoming more...”

Doog: “Oh, baby. Boob alert in the System Governor’s suite. Or…wait…I think that was an elbow.”
Mike: “...or not.”

Doog: “Well folks, Happy New Dawn. Diu Nox’s tilt has shifted and the planet is coming out of a really long night. To celebrate, the planet throws one of the galaxy’s biggest parties. There’s drinks, music, food, and dancing. There may be some flashing too, but that’s just a bonus. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to switch up my drink. This blue whiskey is messing up my emotions.”
Mike: “It’s not a whiskey, it’s a Pumpleknucks Passion Sunrise!”
Doog: “Shut it Mike! I was hoping we could edit out that one part. Oh well, see ya!”
 
​
Note: 

​Oldie: “Sumthin ponies, mashed, am I right? Yeah, I is right. Snore…”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Prurigo. Prurigo is mostly barren desert, but it does have a few equatorial jungles near its large river systems. The natives, called Rigos, call these river systems home. Let’s head down and check it out.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off outside of the city, Guva. Guva sits along the planet’s longest river, Rwizi. I don’t see any rivers from here. I think we need to head into this gate behind me. On a side note, it smells really weird here. It’s hard to describe, but it’s somewhere between wet dog, crap, and rotting flesh. Maybe it will smell better inside.”

Doog: “Maybe not. It smells worse. Is it coming from the natives? The river? Me? Did I forget to wash my mustache again?”

Jhoni: “You’s the TV guy, yeah? I’m Jhoni, your escort.”
Doog: “What gave it away, my microphone or my charmingly good looks?
Jhoni: “You’s a human. Not many humans around here.”
Doog: “Or that. I guess I didn’t notice. There’s not many foreigners here.”

Jhoni: “Vatengesi are the only foreigners on Guva. You refer to them as Tressans, right?”
Doog: “Uh, yeah. The guys with the head tentacles.”
Jhoni: “Yeah, with the green and orange skin. Them guys.”
Doog: “Why are there so many Tressans here?”
Jhoni: “The Galactic Bureaucracy used to run this joint before the LIU. Them Vatengesi never left after the merger. Prurigo is too important. I guess they’s afraid us lowly locals will mess things up if they leave.”

Doog: “What makes Prurigo so important?”
Jhoni: “You ever hear of the ‘Slavers’ Itch’.”
Doog: “Is it an STD? Something like Lap Dance Itch?”
Jhoni: “Ah Mafuto, not anything like that. The Slavers’ Itch is a chemical addiction. People get so hooked on this chemical; they do anything to get more. They work for almost nothing to just get another hit. Get peoples hooked on this stuff…you own them for life.”
Doog: “You make this terrifying chemical on Prurigo?”
Jhoni: “The Vatengesi do.”
Doog: “Oh great! They brought me here to get me addicted, didn’t they!? I don’t want to work for free!”
Jhoni: “Mafuto, mafuto. Relax, relax. The drugs don’t work on Humans or Rigos or Vatengesi. We’s safe. The Slavers’ Itch only works on certain species. I am not a scientist, right? But some species are different. Some’s susceptible.”
Doog: “Whew. That’s a relief.”

Doog: “How’s the addicting chemical made?”
Jhoni: “To get those answers, we need to go deeper into Guva.”
Doog: “And we need a boat to do that?”
Jhoni: “There’s no other way to get around Guva. Unless you want to swim? Huh, Mafuto?
Doog: “That, I don’t want. I’m pretty sure this smell is coming from the river. Also, why do you keep calling me that? Mofo or whatever?”
Jhoni: “Mafuto. It’s just a nickname I’ve given you. Uh, it translates to…little fat man.”
Doog: “What! Why are you calling me that?”
Jhoni: “I never got you’s real name, so Mafuto it is.”
Doog: “I’m Doog, not fat man.”
Jhoni: “Tasangana, Doog it is.”

Doog: “You weren’t kidding. There’s no way to get around here besides boating. There’s almost no walking paths.”
Jhoni: “The river is the lifeblood of Guva. Her waters cannot be impeded. Everyone’s needs access. The best way to do it…let it flow through the city.”
Doog: “Why is it so important?”
Jhoni: “We use the river for everything, right? Food, water, transportation, and sewage.”
Doog: “That explains the smell. And…that wasn’t a chocolate bar I saw floating by earlier, was it? How can you drink and eat stuff out of the river with sewage?”
Jhoni: “The fish and the plants filter the sewage. Great circle of life and all that nonsense. Besides, I know our city seems simple, but we have protections in place. We clean our water. We cook our food.”
Doog: “I guess…”

Jhoni: “Hold on, tight turn!”
Doog: “Whoa there! Take it easy. I definitely don’t want to fall in the water now. Watch the poop water splashes too.”
Jhoni: “We’re fine, Mafuto…errr, Doog.”

Doog: “Why do you have such a large boat anyway? This thing hardly fits through some of these canals.”
Jhoni: “I need a big boat because I need to transport a lot of cargo. The cargo I collect is pretty spread out, so I need big engines to make the trips quicker.”
Doog: “What do you ship? Food? Supplies?”
Jhoni: “Dead bodies.”
Doog: “What!”
Jhoni: “What’s with the tone, huh? People die, and I go pick up their corpse. I transport it back to the tombs. You’s humans don’t do this?”
Doog: “No, no. We do. I guess I was just in shock. I didn’t know I was riding around in a boat hearse.”

Jhoni: “Scooping up bodies is a big business on Prurigo. The Vatengesi…Tressans as you’s call them…pay big money for bodies.”
Doog: “I’m afraid to ask why.”
Jhoni: “They use them to make the Slavers’ Itch.”
Doog: “After all the talk about dung rivers and corpse canoes, I forgot about the most terrifying part of this planet…the itch.”

Doog: “Where are we going?”
Jhoni: “This is a private canal. It’s where I bring the bodies.”

Jhoni: “Security is tight here. So, don’t go and do something stupid, got it?”
Doog: “I will not intentionally do anything stupid. That’s all I can promise.”

Jhoni: “One more thing…if you think the river smells bad, you got a big surprise coming you’s way.”
Doog: “Oh good. I was wondering how this could be any worse.”

Doog: “Ew. Every step I take down, the air smells worse. What is that?”
Jhoni: “You’s headin’ down into the tombs of Guva. That smell is death and decay.”
Doog: “I miss the river smell. I’ll never complain about that again.”

Doog: “So, is this chemical made from bones or something? That’s all I see down here.”
Jhoni: “No, the drug is derived from Carcass Flower extracts. Carcass Flowers only grow on decaying flesh. These bodies are too old. There’s no flesh left.”

Jhoni: “Here’s a growing chamber.”
Doog: “Oh man! That’s ripe!”
Jhoni: “Carcass Flowers aren’t actual flowers, you know? They’s the fruiting bodies of a mold. The mold is that green stuff growing on the bodies.”
Doog: “Holding back a major barf right now. You just keep talking.”

Jhoni: “The smell ain’t that bad. It could be worse.”
Doog: “I refuse to believe that.”
Jhoni: “There’s hardly any meat left on these bones. The mold has run it course. That’s why it’s blooming. You should smell these chambers with week-old bodies in the midsummer heat.”
Doog: “No thanks!”

Jhoni: “Speaking of smells, looks like they’s about to reload the body pit. We best be moving on.”
Doog: “Please.”

Jhoni: “The Vatengesi extract and process Slavers’ Itch in the tombs. Apparently, it spoils quick.”
Doog: “I almost feel bad for them working in this stink chamber, but then, I remember they are making a super-addictive drug to chemically enslave some race. Enjoy the aroma boys!”

Doog: “How does this itch work again?”
Jhoni: “I’m not a scientist. I don’t even know how normal drugs work. I especially don’t know how alien biology drugs work. I just know that they say this stuff is more addictive than oxygen.”
Doog: “Oxygen isn’t addictive.”
Jhoni: “Oh really? If I were to take your oxygen away, you’d be ok?”
Doog: “Well, I would die. I guess.”
Jhoni: “You’s would fight with all your power, with all your resources, for one breath. One more hit of that sweet, sweet oxygen. That’s how addictive this stuff is.”
Doog: “Yikes. Speaking of oxygen, can we get out of this tomb. The rotten-body smell is a bit overwhelming.”

Doog: “Ah, the glorious smell of the sewer river. I missed you so much!”
Jhoni: “Yeah, that was pretty bad. I usually drop the bodies off and go. I don’t usually stick around so long.”
Doog: “Hey, this is the place I entered the city. We’ve come full circle.”
Jhoni: “Yep. It’s also the last part of the tour. This is Guva’s loading dock. The Vatengesi export Slavers’ Itch from here. It’s also where we import bodies.”
Doog: “Import bodies?”
Jhoni: “Yeah. The Vatengesi have ramped up production to the point that we can’t feed the growth chambers with our own dead. We’s importing the dead from other worlds too. The mold doesn’t seem to mind.”
Doog: “This is one strange, smelly planet.”
Jhoni: “Yep, but it’s home.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Prurigo. The Rigos live in canal cities along the planet’s many rivers. They seem pretty normal in that regard. They fish, farm, and trade like many other cultures. Underneath these seemingly normal cities, there are networks of catacombs where a mold feeds on the dead. The Tressans discovered that this mold could be used to make an ultra-addictive drug, called Slavers’ Itch. Prurigo now specializes in making this drug. Dead bodies have become a commodity here. They are literally importing bodies right behind me. I don’t know what race or races are being enslaved by this drug, but I’m not sticking around to find out. It smells so bad here! See ya!”
 
Note: The neurochemical, Slaves’ Itch, does not bind with G protein-coupled receptors, protecting 99% of the galaxy’s inhabitants (all races accidentally seeded by the Progenitors).

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the gas dwarf, Mellarius. Mellarius is composed of mostly nitrogen and oxygen, making most of its atmosphere breathable. Only atmospheric pressure limits Mellarius’ habitability. We’re headed down to the planet’s thin, habitable band that’s about twenty-four kilometers down.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on some type of airship. The only thing preventing us from sinking into the crushing depths are these balloons. That’s comforting. I’ll tell you what isn’t comforting, the humidity. Mellarius has a lot of water vapor in its atmosphere. I guess that’s why there are so many huge clouds.”

Doog: “Even though I’ve been to several gas planets over the years, I still get this uneasy sense of dread knowing I can fall to my death at any moment. That’s why I’m trying to move as little as possible. I’m just going to stand here, away from the edge, and wait for my guide. Can I get some service over here!”

Sammy: “Whoa, no need to shout.”
Doog: “Sorry, I needed to get someone’s attention without moving. Are you my guide?”
Sammy: “No, I’m Sammy, the ship’s mechanic. I think you’re looking for Holly. She’s not here yet.”
Doog: “Oh, great. Well, when you see her, tell her I’m standing right here.”
Sammy: “I know gas planets can be scary, but you’re perfectly safe on the Hive Queen. You’re safe to move around.”
Doog: “The Hive Queen? Is that the name of this ship?”
Sammy: “Yep. Hive Queen IV, if you’re getting technical.”
Doog: “That’s an odd name for a ship.”

Sammy: “It’s quite fitting. The Hive Queen is the central hub for our fleet of drones. They come here to be repaired and get charged.”
Doog: “Drones?”
Sammy: “Yeah. Mellarius has plenty of resources, but they are spread across huge distances. A large drone fleet is the only way to cover enough ground…or…sky. Our ship alone maintains thousands of drones.”

Doog: “They sort of look like bees.”
Sammy: “I’d say mosquitoes given their proboscises.”
Doog: “Their what?”
Sammy: “Their needle noses.”
Doog: “Ah, I guess you’re right. Wait, they don’t use their needle noses like mosquitoes, do they? Are they down there stealing blood from sky whales or something?”
Sammy: “Nope. They gather pollen, mostly.”
Doog: “Pollen? That infers there’s some type of plant-life here.”
Sammy: “Yep, but I’m a mechanic, not a biologist. Holly’s going to have to help you with the wildlife. Look, I see her coming now.”

Holly: “Hey Sammy! Sorry I’m late! I saw a flock of Hexhawks a few miles from here. I couldn’t resist. I had to soar with them for a bit.”
Sammy: “No problem. I showed Doog the drones and the airship. I left the wildlife to you.”
Holly: “Great! Nice to meet you, Doog. Shall we get started?”
Doog: “Yeah. Come on aboard the Hive Queen and commence the tour.”
Sammy: “I think you are going with her.”
Holly: “Yeah, you won’t see much wildlife from a slow airship. We need maneuverability. Come on and hop aboard. It’s perfectly safe.”
Doog: “Maybe you can get a bit closer? Like, super, super close. Maybe just land your balloon on the airship.”

Holly: “See, it isn’t so bad.”
Doog: “The key is not looking down…or up…or forward. I’m just staring directly at my microphone.”

Doog: “I’m not sure if it’s the humidity or the fact that I’m sitting on a park bench hundreds of miles up in the sky, but I’m getting sweaty.”
Holly: “Well, either way, let’s get a breeze going. Hold on tight, we’re going to up the velocity.”
Doog: “No, that’s not what I meant! Ahh!”

Holly: “Yes! They are still here!”
Doog: “Now that we’ve caught up with the massive birds, can we slow down?!”
Holly: “We need the speed to keep up with these guys. These are Hexhawks, the apex predator on Mellarius. They have six wings – two for gliding, two for flapping, and two smaller wings for steering.”
Doog: “Are they dangerous? They look big enough to eat us.”
Holly: “They are large enough, but they don’t seem to have much interest in human meat. I’ve theorized that human meat is too heavy. They need to eat lighter foods. When you spend your whole life in the sky, even the weight of what you eat matters.”
Doog: “Yes! I’m too fat! Never thought I’d be happy saying that.”
Holly: “That’s just my theory. Others have speculated that the humans might be so dissimilar in biochemistry, that the Hexhawks don’t even see us as food. They might not even detect that we are alive.”
Doog: “If they don’t eat us, what do they eat?”

Holly: “They eat Flitterbirds. They are the little guys zooming around those pod plants. They move a lot like hummingbirds. They’re very agile.”
Doog: “Wow, those are quick. I can hardly see them.”
Holly: “Their blue coloration makes them even harder to see, especially against cloudless portions of the sky.”

Holly: “Flitterbirds eat the nectar of the Mellarius Pod Plant. Their feeding activity helps pollinate the plant.”
Doog: “I get the other animals I’ve seen, but how do these plants work? How are they floating?”
Holly: “Simple, they’re mostly filled with hydrogen. Hydrogen makes them buoyant.”
Doog: “I thought this gas dwarf was mostly nitrogen and oxygen? Where does the plant get hydrogen?”
Holly: “Water vapor. Water contains hydrogen. The plant uses the sun to chemically separate water into hydrogen and oxygen. They use the hydrogen to float and release the oxygen.”
Doog: “That’s why there is so much oxygen on this gas dwarf.”
Holly: “Yep. These pods are the foundation of this planet’s ecosystem. They make the oxygen and are the start to the food chain.”

Doog: “Pods make nectar from sunlight. Little birds eat the nectar. Hawks eat the little birds.”
Holly: “More or less. There are several microbial species in the food chain too. Some eat the nectar from the pods. Some make their own food. Others live on the birds.”

Holly: “The pods are also the foundation of our economy.”
Doog: “Is that what the drones are collecting, nectar?”
Holly: “Yes. The nectar of these pod plants contains several monosaccharides, or simple sugars. These sugars make the nectar very tasty.”

Doog: “So, the drones are like bees–they fly around and gather nectar.”
Holly: “Yep. Thirty-two hours a day, these drones are buzzing around gathering nectar.”
Doog: “And they take this nectar back to the Hive Queen airship?”
Holly: “Nope. There’s one more step before this stuff is edible.”

Doog: “What is that?”
Holly: “We call them Storage Spheres. Drones deposit their haul into a sphere when their storage gets full.”
Doog: “Why not take it to the ship?”
Holly: “The nectar needs to be processed before we ship it off.”
Doog: “And how does this honeycombed ball process it?”
Holly: “Remember those microbes I was talking about earlier?”
Doog: “Yeah.”
Holly: “The sphere is full of them. Don’t worry, it’s by design. The microbes break down some of the nectars' more complex sugars, leaving the sweet monosaccharides. The process takes a few weeks, so we have several Storage Spheres spread across our portion of the planet.”

Holly: “Every few weeks, we unload the processed nectar from the sphere and bring it back to our ship. From there, it’s bottled up and sold across the galaxy. Do you want to jump on down and get a closer look at the sphere?”
Doog: “Do I want to jump down onto a floating platform with no railings and look at a ball swarming with mechanical mosquito bees? No thanks.”

Holly: “We call this processed pod nectar, Mellifex. It’s used as a natural sweetener. You’ll find it in a lot of dishes in this part of the galaxy.”
Doog: “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of Mellifex.”
Holly: “Unless you do a lot of cooking, I’m not surprised. However, I’m positive that you’ve used one product that contains Mellifex.”
Doog: “What’s that?”

Holly: “Buzz Cola.”
Doog: “Buzz Cola! The galaxy’s most misleading soft drink. I’ve drank a few in my time and never once got a buzz.”
Holly: “It’s called it ‘Buzz’ because the drones buzz around to make it.”
Doog: “That does make more sense. The commercials with the kids drinking it should have been a sign.”
Holly: “Yeah, probably.”
Doog: “Unintoxicating as it might be, Buzz Cola is pretty good.”
Holly: “And now, you know how it’s made.”
Doog: “Very cool. Thanks Holly. Glad we didn’t die together today.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Mellarius. The planet can be summed up pretty easily. It’s home to these amazing pod plants. They filled the planet with oxygen, and now, larger creatures can breathe. They make nectar, which starts the planet’s food chain. They even provide sweet sugary drinks to the rest of the galaxy. Despite the dizzying heights, vertigo, and humidity, Mellarius was bearable. Oh well, see ya!”
 
 
Note: Increased food competition from harvesting drones, has caused a decline in Flitterbird numbers, which has caused a reduction in Hexhawk populations. However, the pod population has increased due to more pollinators. From the standpoint of the LIU, these results are promising. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the volcanic moon, Dokkalfar. Dokkalfar orbits the gas giant, Svartalfar, which orbits the Mid-Rim star, Ljosalfar. People, like me, who can’t pronounce such challenging names, call this place, the Ember Moon. It’s a fitting name. The moon looks like an ember floating in the shadow of its parent planet. The Ember Moon is home to a strange race of beings that have a high heat tolerance. They live dangerously close the planet’s large lava flows. I’m a little nervous visiting this place, but it must be done. Let’s head on down.”

Doog: “Alright, I’ve been dropped off in the moon’s largest city, Pruna. Pruna is built in the middle of a lava flow. There are canals of fiery magma flowing through the city. Everything looks so dangerous.”

Doog: “I know the natives have a high heat-tolerance, but this guy is crazy. He’s dangling his legs over the lava like it’s just a little stream or river!”

Chet: “That’s because the lava is like water to the Dokkal. Well, sort of. They don’t swim in the lava, given is high viscosity, but they can tolerate its heat. I’m Chet, by the way. I’m your guide for Dokkalfar.”
Doog: “Nice to see another human here, Chet. These crazy lava guys have me worried.”
Chet: “The Dokkal are not crazy. They are an ancient race with a well-developed culture and economy. I’ve grown to admire them.”
Doog: “Maybe crazy wasn’t the right word. Their actions seem dangerous though. Why build so close to the lava? Aren’t there safer places on the Ember Moon?”

Chet: “It might be difficult for an outsider to understand, but the Dokkal use these lava flows like other races use rivers. The flows are a source of food, transportation, and energy.”
Doog: “They are super hot, though.”
Chet: “Yes, but the Dokkal evolved around these flows. They have thicker skin and bones. They even developed horns that act as heat sinks.”
Doog: “If the heat doesn’t bother then biologically, then I guess these lava flows would be similar to a normal river.”
Chet: “Indeed.”

Chet: “Like normal rivers, the lava flows must be regulated to prevent flooding. You can see several floodgates built throughout Pruna. These gates open and close to control lava levels.”
Doog: “Sort of like, lava dams.”
Chet: “Not really. Technically, they do dam the lava during higher flow, but they are mostly open. The gates are not as permanent as an actual dam.”
Doog: “So, they don’t generate power, like dams?”
Chet: “They don’t generate power with gravity turbines, like traditional dams, but they do generate power. Heat transferred from the gate is used to turn steam engines. It generates power and keeps the gates from melting. This system has turned Dokkalfar into an energy exporter.”
Doog: “That’s their economy? Energy production?”
Chet: “It’s just a small part of it. To see more, we’re going to need to catch a ride.”

Doog: “Please tell me we are not riding on one of these minecarts I’ve seen zooming around.”
Chet: “There’s no better way to get around on Dokkalfar.”
Doog: “Great…”

Chet: “We won’t be taking an individual cart. It’s public transportation for us.”
Doog: “Is it safe?”
Chet: “It’s safer than driving a car through a lava filled city, but probably less safe than flying.”
Doog: “Medium safe. I can handle that.”

Doog: “Holy smokes! My stomach dropped on that one!”
Chet: “Yeah, it’s a lot like a rollercoaster, isn’t it!”
Doog: “Yeah, it’s not too bad. Dare I say, fun.”
Chet: “Enjoy it now. The way back is much slower and boring.”
Doog: “What do you mean?”
Chet: “We’ve mostly been going down. When we return later, we’ll be heading up. It’s a lot slower and not as fun.”
Doog: “This is sort of like the opposite of a coaster. Fun first, long lines and climb later.”
Chet: “More or less.”

Doog: “Is this some sort of mine?”
Chet: “Partially. The chambers under the city have vast mineral wealth. The Dokkal export some of their surplus, but the chambers serve a larger purpose for the Dokkal. It’s where they get their food.”
Doog: “Food? Down here? I don’t see any plants or animals.”

Chet: “The Dokkal are chemotrophic geophages. They get energy from eating various minerals.”
Doog: “They eat rocks?”
Chet: “Yes, but only certain rocks; mostly crystalline halide minerals.”
Doog: “I guess I won’t be stopping for food on the Ember Moon…well, unless they found some type of super tasty rock. Do the Dokkal have anything worth trying?”
Chet: “They seem to favor Fluorite, but I’m guessing you won’t find it near as tasty.”
Doog: “Yeah, might be rough on the teeth.”

Doog: “We’ve emerged from the mines, after a much less fun minecart ride, and it appears we are in some type of landscaping store. There’s crates of rocks all over.”
Chet: “It’s a food market.”
Doog: “Oh, I forgot about the eating rocks thing.”

Chet: “Food markets, like this, are common near mine exits, but that’s not what we’re here for. We’re here to see the artisanal district.”
Doog: “The what?”
Chet: “The artisanal district. The Dokkal are great craftsmen. They make numerous handmade products. Their work is greatly valued across the galaxy.” 

Chet: “We just need to cross the lava flow.”
Doog: “Are you out of your mind! I’m not walking across that.”
Chet: “I guess the tour ends here, then.”
Doog: “Sigh…alright, here I come. Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Balance, do not fail me.”

Chet: “The Dokkal are skilled blacksmiths. Using the lava flows as a forge, they make several metal products.”
Doog: “Did I risk my life to see some swords? Who buys swords these days?”
Chet: “This is just one example. They make other things from artwork to armor.”

Chet: “They also use the flow to heat and blow glass. They make some of the galaxy’s finest vases, pitchers, glasses, and stained glass.”
Doog: “Do they make quality bongs? Asking for a friend…”
Chet: “I’m not sure. I doubt the Dokkal would have an use for one, given their differing biology.”

Chet: “The Dokkal are also experts at stonework. As we have traversed the city, I’m sure you’ve seen examples of this. Quality stonework is important to the Dokkal. Their buildings must stand up to the heat.”
Doog: “If I find a crafted bong, I can get my stonework going too.”
Chet: “It appears I’ve lost you to this bong fantasy.”

Doog: “No, I’m totally zoned in. Look, more crafts ahead. Crafts for days.”
Chet: “I sense your sarcasm, so I guess I’ll shorten it up. The Dokkal are also accomplished painters and tailors. They make great earthenware too.”

Chet: “Most of the products crafted here are sold in Pruna’s market district. To make it easier for outsiders, the market district is far from the lava flow. That’s our next destination. Before you ask, if there’s a bong on this planet, it’s probably there.”
Doog: “Do they accept checks?”

Chet: “As promised, here’s the market district. I spend a lot of time here searching for goods for my clients. That is my primary occupation, although I believe I’ve done well as tour guide too.”
Doog: “I didn’t die in a lava flow, so I think you’ve done great. Thanks for the tour.”
Chet: “No problem. Good luck on your search.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s the Ember Moon, aka Dokkalfar. The residents here have evolved to be extremely heat resistant, allowing them to use the moon’s lava flows the same way other civilizations use rivers. The flows make the Dokkal an economic powerhouse. They export energy, minerals, gases, and lots of finely crafted objects. Speaking of which, I might just do a little shopping before I go. See ya!”
 
 
Note: Doog searched the market for three hours, but found nothing. The Dokkal use Atacamite for its intoxicating effects, but it is ingested, not smoked. Doog tried Atacamite, but all he experienced was a chipped tooth.   

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re checking out the planet, Merum. Merum is an agricultural world located in the Outer Rim. Merum shouldn’t be as boring as the other agricultural worlds we’ve visited; they don’t farm things on flat, endless plains. Merum is home to the famous vertical vineyards. Let’s check it out.”

​Doog: “Alright, we’ve made it to the surface. Merum’s reputation holds true. I’m surrounded by vertical vineyards. The town appears to be built vertically too. The number of staircases around here terrifies me. This will hopefully be a surface-level tour.”

Lyaeus: “Welcome traveler. I am Lyaeus of Everwind Rocks. Who are you?”
Doog: “I am Doog of the Magellan.”
Lyaeus: “Why are we graced with your attendance this lovely morn, Doog of the Magellan?”
Doog: “I’m here to do a show about Merum.”
Lyaeus: “Hath a fortnight elapsed already? Have I been betrayed by golden son and pleasant times?”
Doog: “What?”
Lyaeus: “We disremembered your arrival, I’m afraid. The senses dull after partaking in the euphoria that is the after-harvest.”
Doog: “You’ve been drunk?”
Lyaeus: “Drunk is a decrepit choice of word.  We do not get drunk. We get lifted spirits, warmed souls, and a cheerful disposition.”
Doog: “And forgetful, apparently.”
Lyaeus: “Ah, Doog of the Magellan, do not despair. I, Lyaeus, offer my services as chaperon. You shall delight in the wonders of Merum under my stewardship.”

Lyaeus: “This gathering of pillars is known as the Everwind Rocks. They are known colloquially as the Everwinds. The Everwinds have been bountiful since the beginning of history. Their yield is generous despite their restricted scope.”
Doog: “You said earlier that you are from Everwind Rocks. So, this is your hometown?”
Lyaeus: “Most certainly. For all my rotations, I have called these columns home.”
Doog: “Where’s your house?”
Lyaeus: “We do not own separate houses. My coterie of friends and family share the dwellings on the Everwinds. The constructions on the pillars are communal places. There are accommodations for all our needs. Slumber towards soberness in the sleeping quarters. Contemplate your passions in the common chamber. Reflect on your sentiments in the shrine. Taste the divine in the winery.”
Doog: “I’m getting a frat house vibe. All we need is some beer pong.”

Doog: “So, these vineyards are for making wine? It explains the drunkenness…I mean…the warming of souls.”
Lyaeus: “The fruit of Merum ferments into the most remarkable wine. The delicious beverage satiates the soul and elevates temperaments.”
Doog: “Fruit of Merum sounds like that underwear I used to buy. It didn’t hold up well after taco night, so I stopped buying it.”
Lyaeus: “The repulsive state of one’s undergarments can be lumped into the same category as the word, ‘drunk’. Let’s not speak of it again.”

Lyaeus: “Before our conversation veered into the dark recesses of fecal humor, we were conversing on the subject of our wine.”
Doog: “Yeah, something like that.”
Lyaeus: “Our wine is of vast importance. It is not some occasional indulgence. It is the singular source of our nutrition.”
Doog: “Wait, are you saying that you only drink wine? You don’t eat anything?”
Lyaeus: “As alarming as it sounds to outsiders, it is true. We co-evolved with the berries. When the vines spread to the pillars, we followed. When the vines stretched skyward, we built upwards. When the berries developed a bitter tang, we learned to ferment them. Our bodies then evolved to reflect the alcoholic nature of the fermented berries.”
Doog: “So, you don’t feel dru…I mean…inebriated?”
Lyaeus: “Our brains have developed the ability to process information quicker, negating the effects of motor impairment and slurred speech, but the endorphins are still released, provoking pleasure.”
Doog: “How do I get one of your brains? All the feelings, none of the setbacks.”

Lyaeus: “We were not the only species to coevolve with the fruits. Our mounts, or Arietes, also survive solely on the berries. Their evolutionary path took alternative routes, though. Instead of learning to climb or build, the Arietes grew taller. When the berries became bitter, the Arietes became inter-reliant on my people.”
Doog: “Reliant how?”
Lyaeus: “The Arietes can tolerate the bitterness, but they do not prefer it. They prefer the pre-fermented mash.”
Doog: “Mash?”
Lyaeus: “We press the berries to extricate their juices. We then ferment the sugary liquid into wine, leaving behind the skins and pulp of the berries. This is called mash, and it is used as feed for the Arietes.”
Doog: “So, it’s the juice that’s bitter, not the pulp or mash.”
Lyaeus: “Yes. This advantage aided in our domestication of the Arietes. They were inclined to work for less bitter food. They do not possess the tolerance for alcohol, so mash is their only source of non-bitter food.”

Doog: “What about these musicians? They are clearly intoxicated. They’ve been playing the same song since I got here.”
Lyaeus: “Is the hymn of Golden Sun not enjoyable?”
Doog: “I guess it’s not terrible. It sounds eerily similar to the hymn of the Magellan’s Water Heater, though. Not exactly great.”
Lyaeus: “Perhaps the euphoric nature of my perception allows my mind to experience sound differently. I am suppressing my urge to dance, as we speak.”
Doog: “Things do sound better when I’m wasted – even my pick-up lines.”

Lyaeus: “This grander arrangement of stone masts is known as the Towers. They are among the tallest pillars on Merum.”
Doog: “There are stairs for days. Tell me we don’t have to go up there.”
Lyaeus: “We are not permitted to enter the Towers, even if you wished to suffer the climb.”
Doog: “Why not?”
Lyaeus: “Each set of pillars is its own community. Only the denizens of the Towers are granted access. The occupants of the Towers would suffer the same fate at the Everwinds.”
Doog: “Why don’t the communities intermingle?”

Lyaeus: “The limited quantities of the berries must be protected from outsiders, given their life sustaining properties. If interlopers were permitted to partake of their supply, they might not retain an adequate supply for themselves. This is vital in the era of the LIU.”
Doog: “I see. Now you must make enough wine for your people and the LIU.”
Lyaeus: “Finding balance in the reserves has been most challenging – a trial of our will to survive.”

Lyaeus: “We overcame challenges in earlier times, when the fruits expanded to the skies. I am confident we will continue to triumph despite the new challenges. Survival is in our character.”
Doog: “Yeah, I hope so.”

Lyaeus: “Not all communities reacted to the LIU’s arrival in a similar manner.”
Doog: “Yeah, this place looks way different.”
Lyaeus: “The Opportunists, as they call themselves, bowed to the LIU. They discarded centuries of culture, tradition, and law, and fully capitulated to the LIU’s desires.”
Doog: “They sold-out.”
Lyaeus: “A less poetic description, yet fitting, in this instance. The Opportunists now run the LIU’s wine trade on Merum. All the communities on Merum report to them.”

Lyaeus: “Absent are the bountiful, flowing vines that lent their name to the Garden Pillars. The verdure replaced by a menagerie of mechanical devices and pollution spewing starships. A multitude of persons once lived off the generous fruitage of said flora, but the population has since dwindled. Hundreds displaced by a handful of loyal Opportunists.”
Doog: “If I understand correctly, and I barely understand most of the words you’re saying, you guys don’t like these Opportunists.”
Lyaeus: “We loathe them.”
Doog: “That’s what I thought.”

Lyaeus: “Despite our abhorrence, we must collaborate with the traitors. The LIU requires every community to pay an annual tithe, and the Opportunists possess Merum’s only spaceport.”
Doog: “So, you pay a tax to the LIU, presumably in the form of wine, but you can only pay them through the Opportunists?”
Lyaeus: “Yes, but the conspirators do not perform this duty free of charge. We pay ten percent of our wine yield to the LIU, and a further one percent to the Opportunists.”
Doog: “What do you get in return?”
Lyaeus: “A year of merry, wine-drinking peace.”
Doog: “Peace is good and all, but a little money would be nice.”
Lyaeus: “Only the blasphemous Opportunists care for such wealth. The true denizens of Merum are content with the old ways.”
Doog: “To each their own, I suppose.”
Lyaeus: “This is where we depart, Doog of the Magellan. I grow sober and must return home. I hope your curiosity has been sated. May golden sun and merry cheer find you wherever life takes you.”
Doog: “Uh, same. Golden sun and stuff.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Merum. The people here coevolved with a plant. When that plant took to the rocky pillars, they followed. When it started tasting bad, they made wine from it. When they got too hammered, their biology evolved to lessen the effects of alcohol. Now, because of the LIU, they’ve been forced to evolve their behavior. They must grow more fruit and make more wine to pay the LIU. Some people, like these guys behind me, sold-out to the LIU. Either way, life on Merum is much different these days. Oh well! See ya!”
 
 
Note:

Doog: “Don’t you feel bad buying wine from the Opportunists? I just spent an hour hearing about their evil ways.”
Amaya: “What can I say, it’s good wine. Besides, I wanted to get something to celebrate Seitse’s new license.”
Doog: “Aw, who am I kidding? Pour me a double.”

Amaya: “Well, you boys ready to start the next season?”
Doog: “What! We just finished the last season! What about our between seasons break!”
Amaya: “I hate to break this to you, but we did the season finale around a black hole. Even though we were half a light year away, we experienced time dilation.”
Doog: “Wait. What?”
Mike: “Those few days we spent on Susurri…translated to two weeks?”
Amaya: “More or less.”
Doog: “Aw man. I had so much planned for this break. I was going to read books, exercise, shower…well, I guess there’s next year.”

Amaya: “I thought we’d start off the new season by visiting a Segnis Station. Seitse has been studying hard, and I think she’s ready to get her pilot license. We do a show and get an official co-pilot. Two birds with one stone.”
Doog: “Or, we could extend our vacation and do neither of those things. No birds and get stoned.”
Seitse: “Yeah, who cares about Seitse and her accomplishments. I only spent every spare second of this last year reading manuals, doing computer simulations, and practicing with Hugo. Forget about all of that. Let’s extend our break by a week.”
Doog: “See, Seitse gets it.”
Amaya: “She was being sarcastic. This isn’t up for debate. Hugo, find the nearest Segnis Station.”

Doog: “Welcome to Season Twelve of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, much to my chagrin, we are visiting a Segnis Station. Segnis Stations are a creation of the Galactic Bureaucracy that’s been integrated into the LIU. They were created to give poorer, less developed worlds access to various government services. It’s where you go to get licenses, permits, and identifications. These stations are mobile, visiting less populated worlds about once a year. We’ve caught up with Segnis Station Delta near the Duodecim Nebula. Let’s get this over with.”

Amaya: “Alright. I’ve split us into two groups. We can explore more of the station this way. Doog, you’re with Hugo, Seitse, and I.”
Doog: “What! I want to go with the guys. Trade me for Timbo.”
Amaya: “That’s not happening. You and Mike can’t be left together without supervision.”
Doog: “Aw, come one. Oldie can watch us.”
Amaya: “We both know that’s not true.”

Doog: “We all know that Segnis Stations are synonymous with long lines. The pilot license line is going to stretch for miles. I mean, even the line to the coffee hut is packed. If I go with you, I’ll do the whole show standing in line.”
Amaya: “Maybe. I’m betting that you’ll be able to make astute observations about the station while standing in queue.”
Doog: “Make what observations in the what?”
Amaya: “My faith might have been misplaced. I guess I’ll settle for you whining and complaining all day. That’s got to be good TV, right?”

Computer: “Now serving number eight hundred seventy-five.”
Doog: “What number are we?”
Amaya: “We don’t have a number yet.”
Doog: “Maybe we should get on that.”
Amaya: “I don’t think that numbers for the license line. I think that’s the coffee hut.”
Doog: “See! These lines are ridiculous!”

Oldie: “Eight-seventy-five? I’m only three hundred away. We’ll be throwing back some hot java in no time. Well, in like an hour or so.”
Timbo: “Do we want to waste our Doog-free time on coffee? I’m finally paired up with you guys. I want to get into some type of hijinks.”
Mike: “We don’t get into hijinks. Doog gets into hijinks. We’re collateral damage.”
Cam: “We’re the victims. If you want shenanigans, you’re in the wrong group.”
Computer: “Now serving number eight hundred seventy-six.”
Oldie: “I’m two hundred and ninety-nine hijinks from some double latte macchiatos.”
Mike: “Well, until then, maybe we should do some exploring?”

Doog: “This is insane! Ninety-three-minute wait!”
Amaya: “It is insane. I can’t believe it. We picked a good time to come.”
Doog: “A good time! How so?!”
Amaya: “I looked it up before we came. Wait time is generally two hours.”
Doog: “Ninety-three is more than two…er…do the math for me.”
Amaya: “We’re getting out of here in an hour in a half instead of two hours.”
Doog: “Still terrible, but better.”

Doog: “What takes so long?”
Amaya: “There’s a lot of people here. This station only comes to this sector once a year.”

Doog: “There’s like eight lines though. They should be able to handle the crowd.”
Amaya: “There’s six lines, and they all handle different things.”
Doog: “We have to wait in each of the lines!?”
Amaya: “Nope. Line one is for the first test, a simulation. Line two is the second test, a different simulation. If you pass those, you move to stage three, the multiple-choice test. There’s two lines for that, considering it takes ten minutes.”
Doog: “What about these other lines?”
Amaya: “They’re pretty self-explanatory. If you pass the three tests, you go to the pass line. If you fail a test, you go to the fail line.”
Doog: “I don’t know if I want to live in a galaxy where you have to wait in line if you fail.”
Amaya: “You don’t have to wait - unless, of course, you want to retake the test or contest any results. There’s a fee, though.”
Doog: “Please, by the Emperor’s Grace, pass this test the first time, Seitse! If I have to wait in this line again, I’ll murder you.”
Seitse: “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Doog.”

Cam: “A post office, on a Segnis Station?”
Mike: “Not any old post office, a 3D one.”
Oldie: “You get to see your bills in 3D?”
Cam: “These things are mobile, why would you get mail here, 3D or otherwise?”
Mike: “I think they print packages. Like, someone mails you something from one planet – it gets scanned – then it gets printed here.”
Oldie: “Saves on shipping, I guess. “
Mike: “It makes shipping instantaneous.”
Cam: “It would, depending on what is shipped.”

Oldie: “Maybe, Doog’s grandma can send us some pony soup. You can 3D print soup, right?”
Mike: “Probably not.”
Cam: “Well, none of us are expecting packages, so this place is useless to us.”
Oldie: “Can we try the pony soup thing? I need instant pony soup.”
Mike: “Looks like the line stretches forever. It might not be instant soup.”
Oldie: “Darn. My macchiato might be done by then. Besides, it wouldn’t be homemade soup if it’s printed.”

Amaya: “Way to go, Seitse! I knew you could do it!”
Doog: “Thanks for not failing! Thanks for only wasting two hours of my life! We’re finally done!”

Doog: “Why are we in another line? Haven’t we suffered enough?”
Amaya: “Seitse passed her test. She needs to redeem her voucher and get her Citizen ID Chip updated.”
Doog: “What type of time frame are we talking here?”

​Amaya: “I’m not sure. There’s about twenty people ahead of us. Probably an hour or so.”
Doog: “Why are we waiting in line? Only Seitse needs to wait. Release me!”
Amaya: “I don’t trust you, here. There’s a lot you can do on a Segnis Station - change your official name, get married, register to boat. I can’t have messing up season twelve before it gets started.”
Doog: “Oh, come on! I never boat, and you messed up my last marriage. Why am I here!?”

Cam: “Anyone see something of interest? Anything we can do for the show?”
Timbo: “Forget the show! There’s a bar over there! Hijinks incoming! I finally get to do something reckless in an episode!”

Mike: “There is a bar, but I not sure we should partake.”
Cam: “Normally, this is part where Doog gets us all hammered.”
Mike: “Except there’s no Doog to talk us into it.”
Oldie: “It’s kind of refreshing to dodge peer pressure, for once.”
Timbo: “Ah, come on! I’ll deliver the peer pressure. Let’s do it!”

Oldie: “Nah. It’s not smart to start drinking when your one floor from getting a marriage license.”
Mike: “I have a hard-enough time staying single when I’m sober. Ok, that might be a lie. Still, I don’t want to wake up married to some random person.”
Cam: “If Doog was here, he’d definitely be married to someone.”
Mike: “Knowing our luck, some technicality would make him marry one of us. I think we’re dodging a bullet.”
Oldie: “Amaya was pretty smart to keep Doog from us.”
Timbo: “Not even a shot? I want to do something fun for once!”

Cam: “If we start drinking, we are going to have to use the restroom.”
Timbo: “So?”
Mike: “To use the restroom, you need a toilet permit.”
Timbo: “That couldn’t take too long.”
Cam: “Look at that line.”
Guy: “Now serving, number two, in my pants.”
Mike: “Yikes.”

Timbo: “They do have some novelty vendors. We might find something mischievous there. Can hijinks still be possible.”
Cam: “I see a smoked ham, cold medicine, chocolates, and a puzzle. You need Doog-level powers to get into trouble with that assortment.”
Mike: “I see jerky too, but, yeah, I got nothing.”

Doog: “Sorry folks. Moral support going on here. I know we’re holding up the already-long line for no reason. Be patient with us. My babysitter says I can’t be alone.”
Amaya: “Shut it, Doog. Seitse, we’re so proud of you.”
Hugo: “Way to go. We knew you could do it.”
Seitse: “A year ago, my whole life fell apart. I was betrothed and abandoned by my family. My future looked bleak. Thanks to you guys, even you Doog, everything turned around. I’m not a trophy wife or a slave. I’m a pilot.”
Doog: “I think being my wife would be better, but congrats anyways.”

Mike: “This is it. We finally found something to do.”
Oldie: “What?”

Mike: “We register to become Bounty Hunters and pick up some bounties. Hear me out. We’re already traversing the galaxy, why not grab some fugitives from time to time.”
Oldie: “I’m not sure how effective we’ll be. We don’t have any guns.”
Cam: “Yeah, this is a terrible idea. Someone will get killed.”
Timbo: “As much as I want an adventure, this might not be for us.”
Mike: “Aw, come on. Doog would do it.”
Cam: “That’s precisely why we shouldn’t.”
Mike: “I realized that as soon as I said it.”

Doog: “I don’t want to explore this place anymore. We’ve been here for hours.”
Amaya: “Do you think we have enough material?”
Doog: “We have hours of ‘space DMV’ footage. I know that. And look, here comes the guys. I’m sure they found something.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s a Segnis Station. There are long lines, bureaucratic red tape, and lots of frustrated people. You come here to get married, divorced, licensed, and headaches. There is one plus, though. Seitse has officially become our co-pilot and navigator. Mike won’t screw this season up. Oh well, see ya!”
​

​Note:

Mike: “Doog – really quick – what could you do with jerky, smoked ham, cold medicine, and puzzles.”
Doog: “Easy. Marinate the meats in the cold medicine. Enjoy the food and get a buzz. Open the puzzle, throw the pieces at people, and tell them they need to get their lives together. Say things, like, 'Your life is in pieces, like this puzzle'. Why?”
Mike: “Oh, no reason.”
Oldie: “That’s why he couldn’t be with us.”
Cam: “Especially around the Bounty Hunters…”

Doog: “Welcome to the season finale of Season 11 of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re wrapping up the season by visiting the black hole, Susurri. Technically, we’re not visiting the black hole itself – given the whole ‘never escape’ thing. We’re staying a safe distance away. There’s a large asteroid field orbiting Susurri half a light year away. That’s where we are headed.”

Doog: “Alright, this looks like the place. One of the field’s larger asteroids is home to a small industrial complex. This complex mainly serves as a fuel refinery. A massive dome sits over the whole thing. While it looks similar to some biospheres we’ve seen, I don’t think this dome is holding in any atmosphere. It’s probably there for protection. Susurri’s gravity waves shift the smallest asteroids, making impacts possible.”

Doog: “Luckily for us, we’re not an asteroid. The dome shields have been dropped, and we are free to enter the complex. I’ll see you on the surface.”

Doog: “Well, I’m not disappointed. This place is a fuel refinery, and nothing says fuel like some classic Octan branding. The real question is, what type of fuel is being processed here? Am I dealing with fuel sniffing degenerates or smarty-pants ion specialists?”

Doog: “Or, maybe, I’m not dealing with anyone at all. Where’s my guide? Hey! Hello? Are either of you my guide?”
Robot: “Please stay behind the line, visitor.”
Doog: “I am behind the line.”
Worker: “Yeah, well keep your words behind the line too. We’re trying to work here.”
Doog: “I’m trying to work here too. So, keep your words on your side of the line!”
Robot: “The line is an arbitrary marker that does not prohibit audio transmissions.”
Doog: “Yeah! What he said! You are on my side, right?”
Robot: “I am not on your side. I am on this side of the line.”
Doog: “I don’t mean physically. I mean…why am I arguing with a robot?”

Quinn: “You guys are all out of line. I could hear you down the hall.”
Robot: “Incorrect. We have remained on the designated sides of the line.”
Quinn: “I don’t mean physically. Never mind. No use arguing about it. I’m Quinn Jarvis. I’m an overseer at the Susurri Refinery.”
Doog: “You speak in complete sentences. You’re not a fuel sniffing degenerate. You must be an ion nerd.”
Quinn: “Excuse me?”
Doog: “I’ve dealt with a few fuel specialists over the years. They’re always on one side of the spectrum. Degenerate or nerd.”
Quinn: “You’re right that I don’t sniff fuel, but I’m not sure that qualifies me as a nerd.”
Doog: “Only time will tell.”

Doog: “First things first…why are you refining fuel near a black hole?”
Quinn: “The Susurri Black Hole was created after its parent star went nova and then collapsed. The supernova remnant is ion rich, which is why we are here.”
Doog: “That was a lot of nerdy words, Quinn. Things aren’t looking good for you.”
Quinn: “Describing science is nerdy? How else would I tell you about this place?”
Doog: “Awesome boom boom makes fuel, or something like that.”
Quinn: “That’s not really informative. This is an educational show, right?”
Doog: “That’s why I’m the TV host and you’re the nerd. That’s how this show gets made.”

Quinn: “If talking like an educated grown-up makes me a nerd, I guess I’m a nerd.”
Doog: “Now that you’ve admitted it, we can get on with the show. So, the nova made the ions.”
Quinn: “Yes, and now Susurri’s gravity is pulling these ions back. This asteroid field is bombarded with them.”
Doog: “Is that the purpose of the dome?”
Quinn: “The dome serves two purposes. It shields us from meteor impacts, and it also aids in the collection of ions. Particulates of the remnant get trapped in the shields. Most of these particulates are ions, but there are other contaminants.” 

Quinn: “That’s when the refinery takes over. Octan specialists purify the remnant dust, leaving pure ion fuel.”
Doog: “Seems pretty standard.”
Quinn: “I wouldn’t say standard. There’s some really advanced physics taking place.”
Doog: “Standard enough for me. Big boom makes fuel soup. Soup has yucky parts. Yucky parts go bye. Yummy fuel soup left. Vroom, vroom goes my ship.”
Quinn: “Have you been sniffing the fuel?”

Doog: “No, I just like to keep things simple.”
Quinn: “I see that. You’re just flying through these corridors. Don’t you want to know how all this works. Ion filtration, fuel degaussing?”
Doog: “This is the season finale. We all know I didn’t come here to learn about ion fuel. There’s going to be a big reveal around one of these corners.”

Doog: “And there it is…the reveal. There’s a signal anomaly. What’s that?”
Quinn: “Everyone is always in a big rush to learn about the anomaly. We’re doing amazing work in the field of ion fuel, but let’s not talk about that. Let’s dwell on the mysterious message.”
Doog: “Mystery message? I’m intrigued.”
Quinn: “While monitoring the remnant cloud, some Octan workers may have discovered a subspace signal emanating from Susurri. No one knows what the signal means, but we can all agree on one thing. The signal is extragalactic.”
Doog: “Ooh, extragalactic. What does that mean again?”
Quinn: “The signal does not appear to have originated within the galaxy.”
Doog: “But it is originating from the black hole, which is in this galaxy.”
Quinn: “I might have to devolve into a nerd once again, but I think I can explain it. The message contains a vocabulary and syntax unlike any language found in this galaxy. To be honest, it is unlike any language in our known universe.”
Doog: “What are you saying?”
Quinn: “The signal might be proof of a multiverse. The black hole is somehow serving as a connection between two universes.”

Doog: “Universes. The multiverse. Isn’t this more exciting than ion fuel?”
Quinn: “For you maybe. To me, it’s just a subspace signal. Maybe it is from another universe, maybe it is instructions on how to fix a washing machine written in an extinct language. Maybe, it isn’t a language at all. It’s just a series of random noises.”
Doog: “Forget ions, you guys should be looking into this.”
Quinn: “Oh, the signal is being researched, just not by Octan. It’s all done from a restricted part of this complex. Also, I take exception to that ion remark. Unlike mystery signals, ions actually have a purpose.”

Wilbur: “Nice to see you again, Mr. Jarvis. However, I request that you respect the line.”
Doog: “Yeah, no nerds beyond this point.”
Quinn: “I have no desire to cross the line. I have practical science to do. You boys can play translator.”
Wilbur: “Come Doog. The signal awaits.”

Wilbur: “I am Dr. Wilbur Graves. I run project Whisper.”
Doog: “Whisper? Is that what you call the subspace signal?”
Wilbur: “Yes.”
Doog: “What is this signal?”
Wilbur: “It’s a message written in an unknown language. A language we have failed to decipher.”
Doog: “How do you know it is a message? Couldn’t it be random noise?”
Wilbur: “The message repeats every three hours. It never changes.”
Doog: “I see. How is it being broadcast from Susurri? I thought nothing can escape a black hole’s gravity.”
Wilbur: “That’s the real question. Quantum determinism and reversibility ensure that all information is preserved in a black hole. This is sometimes called black hole memory. It is possible that wave functions of this message are using quantum tunneling to avoid losing information. Tunneling beyond the event horizon. Subspace transmissions could technically escape this way.”
Doog: “I have no idea what that means, but I just noticed I’m in a room full of babies. Is this a nursery? Why are we in a nursery?”

Wilbur: “The key to discovering the origin of the message is to translate its meaning. We don’t need to know the why just yet, only the what.”
Doog: “I need to know the why. Why all the babies? There’s hundreds of them in here.”
Wilbur: “Human infants possess an affinity for language. They can differentiate between different voices before they even leave the womb. More importantly, they can instinctually detect prosody.”
Doog: “Prosody?”
Wilbur: “They can differentiate speakers and languages by rhythm, patterns, and stresses.”
Doog: “I’m still not sure I get it.”
Wilbur: “Babies are experts at learning languages.”
Doog: “Got it.”

Doog: “So, you just pipe the signal into their little pods?”
Wilbur: “Three hours of the signal, followed by three hours of Basic. We want them to learn both languages.”
Doog: “Does it work? You would think they would need more context to figure out some random language.”
Wilbur: “Success rates were low during the first test. That’s why we’ve scaled it up. We need thousands of babies to improve our odds.”
Doog: “It doesn’t mess them up, does it?”
Wilbur: “What do you mean?”

Doog: “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s having little human contact. Maybe, it’s getting weird alien language blasted at you. It has to do some mental damage, right?”
Wilbur: “Our babies are properly cared for. They receive plenty of attention and contact from our robotic staff.”
Doog: “I’m more worried about them now! What the heck is that terrifying thing?”
Wilbur: “That’s our Nutritional Administrator / Neonatal Nurse Intelligence. We call it NANNI.”
Doog: “Couldn’t they have made it more human-like? It looks super scary in this form.”

Wilbur: “Nonsense. The design is perfect. It is large enough to reach both levels of baby pods. It was several multipurpose arms for rocking babies. It even has two well placed feeding mandibles.”
Doog: “Tell me you mean mandibles for feeding babies, not eating them.”
Wilbur: “Of course.”

Wilbur: “Uh, you might want to hold your breath. Here comes another robotic helper. We call them genies or GNI.”
Doog: “GNI?”

Wilbur: “Yeah, Grab Nose Immediately. They change the babies’ diapers.”
Doog: “Oh, good gracious. What are you feeding these babies?”
Wilbur: “A protein solution with nutritional supplements.”
Doog: “That smells about right.”

Doog: “Have you made any progress deciphering the anomaly? Are the babies working?”
Wilbur: “Our original batch of babies is just now maturing. They should have learned enough Basic to describe the other language. Testing is underway, but the results are mixed.”
Doog: “How so?”

Kid: “Null tide. Void. Endless time. Beginnings. Shadowed by time. Voided of time. Null tide. It is upon the void. I am the null. Unending void.”
Doog: “I see.”
Wilbur: “It might sound like gibberish, but there are some repeating patterns.”
Doog: “Repeating patterns of scary-sounding nonsense.”
Wilbur: “Perhaps. Once upscaled, we should see more results. We should be fluent in the ‘whisper’ in just a few generations.”
Kid: “Echoes. Null echoes of the void. Shadowed. Unending. Timeless. Released the void. Null void. Origin of the null void.”
Doog: “I’m fine with the whisper remaining a mystery. From what you’ve uncovered so far, it sounds super freaky.” 

Doog: “Well folks, there’s a lot to sum up. There’s a black hole called Susurri. This black hole was created after a star went nova. The explosion released tons of ions, which can be used as fuel. An industrial complex was built on an asteroid a half a light year from the black hole. This complex refines the ions collected and converts them to a usable fuel. While making fuel, Octan workers discovered a mysterious subspace signal emanating from Susurri. The signal contains an unknown language that doesn’t appear to be from this galaxy. It might not even be from this universe. In order to translate such an alien language, scientists have resorted to some extreme measures. Newborn infants, with naturally enhanced language centers in their brains, are being used to translate this message. So far, it doesn’t seem to be working. Oh well! That’s Season 11. See ya next year!”
 
 
Note: After testing concludes, volunteers will be needed to adopt the whisper babies. They don’t do well with pets. Keep sharp objects locked away. Sleep with one eye open. 

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting a Mid-Rim agricultural world called Pyxis. Pyxis is located along the Cibus Hyperspace Route, a route connecting several food producing worlds. Pyxis has a mixed terrain consisting of deserts, semi-arid highlands, and grassy plains. We’re being dropped off in a city that sits at the convergence of these three distinct environments. Let’s head on down.”

Doog: “Alright folks, this is the city of Wec. I think I’m saying that right. W-E-C. Wec. I don’t know. Wec is a relatively large city. Its population is somewhere around one hundred thousand. It looks like a standard city. There’s small businesses, restaurants, and large apartment complexes.”

Doog: “There’s also this guy spinning around a sign. It’s kind of mesmerizing. I’m not sure how effective the sign is though. Is the grocery store there or there? Is it up there in the sky? Oh, wait, it’s over there now.”

Boîte: “Beer belly, distinctive smell, and an antiquated microphone…you must be Doog.”
Doog: “Wow, that’s kind of offensive. I mean it’s true, but most people don’t come right out and say it.”
Boîte: “Sorry, that’s all they gave me to go on. And, you’re like the third person I’ve approached with that line. I’ve been slapped in the face twice – once by a very pregnant woman carrying a power converter. How am I supposed to know what an antiquated mic looks like?”
Doog: “Yikes. As offensive as that is for me, I can only imagine how she felt.”
Boîte: “Indeed. You are Doog, though? I don’t want to do this again."
Doog: “Yes. I’m Doog.”
Boîte: “Thank the Emperor. I’m Boîte. I’m the LIU’s media liaison on Pyxis. Admittedly, the title sounds cooler than it is. You’re literally the first media member I’ve dealt with. Most of the time, I work in the factory like everyone else.”

Doog: “Everyone here works in a factory?”
Boîte: “Three-quarters of them do. The others sell food, supplies, and services to meet the workers needs. The cities on Pyxis are often called Cannery Towns, because large portions of the population are employed by the canning factories. Each city is essentially built around a large cannery.”
Doog: “What’s a cannery? Is that the bird you take with you into a mine?”
Boîte: “No, that’s a canary. A cannery is factory where workers process food and store it in cans. The cans preserve the food, so it can be sold around the galaxy.”
Doog: “So, Wec is a city built around a can factory. Got it.”

Boîte: "Exactly. Wec is actually an acronym. It means West End Cannery. All the cities on Pyxis have similar names. There’s Cavec or the Confidence Valley Cannery. Mec, the Mountain East Cannery.  Pec, the Polar…”
Doog: “I think we get it. No need to name all the towns on Pyxis.”
Boîte: “Fair enough. I was just trying to drive home the fact that all the cities on Pyxis revolve around canneries.”
Doog: “Oh, you drove it home. Cannery Towns all over. Got it.”
Boîte: “Each town is positioned near a convergence of Pyxis’ three environments. This way, the factories are able to can the various products from each region.”
Doog: “Can you tell us about the three regions and what they produce? Also, I’m going to need some stock footage, so I don’t have to wander this whole region.”
Boîte: “I think I can manage that. Look at me! My media credentials are finally useful!”

Boîte: “Deserts are Pyxis’ most dominant terrain. Huge seas of sand dunes cover large portions of the planet.  Despite their barren appearance, these deserts are abundant in life. Sand Crabs are the most plentiful organisms in these dune seas. Millions of crabs bury themselves in the top layer of the desert sand where they eat smaller arthropods. Huge Hover-Trawlers rake the sands and harvest hundreds of crabs a day.”

Boîte: “There are two distinct species of crab, and they are not equal in value. The rarer, tan crabs are worth twice as much as their red cousins.”
Doog: “Some of the crabs I’ve contracted take twice as much ointment to eradicate, so I know what you’re talking about.”
Boîte: “Uh…anyways…when the trawler meets it daily quota, both species are returned to Wec to be processed and canned.”
Doog: “Well, that was easy. One environment down, two to go.”

Boîte: “The arid highlands are cooler than the desert, but they are not much wetter. Farms here are highly dependent on the seasonal rains, which bless the highlands once a year. Only deep-rooted, drought resistant crops grow here. Three commercially viable crops are grown in the highlands: Pumpleknucks, Porgand Apples, and Borsch Melons. However, only the Pumpleknucks are native to Pyxis. The others were imported.”
Doog: “And the weirdly named fruits are also canned?”
Boîte: “You know it.”
Doog: “Just one more to go.”

Boîte: “The grasslands of Pyxis are much wetter than the other regions, and can sustain a multitude of crops. The LIU has limited these crops to things that can be canned, like the native Laxil Roots. Other imported crops, like Debu Tubers, Cuttel, and Radcorn, are also grown here.”
Doog: “I’m not a vegetable or fruit guy, so I’m not sure how excited I should be about this. Canned crab sounds like meaty goodness, though.”

Doog: “I think I see the cannery now.”
Boîte: “Yep. There she is – the centerpiece of the city. They say all roads lead to the cannery.”
Doog: “Yet, the road we’re on, seems to be running parallel to the cannery, not to the cannery.”
Boîte: “Uh…this road must curve at some point.”
Doog: “I bet it does.”  

Doog: “As far as Cannery Towns go, where would you rank Wec?”
Boîte: “Clearly, it’s number one. W-E-C, baby.”
Doog: “Have you been to any of the other towns?”
Boîte: “Well, no. But, come on. This place is awesome. We consistently out-can the competitors. We’ve won the end of cycle bonus twenty times in a row.”
Doog: “End of cycle bonus?”
Boîte: “The LIU awards the town with highest production numbers at the end of the year. We get a few extra credits on the paycheck.”
Doog: “So, the LIU pits the towns against each other to increase production. You work extra hard for just a few credits.”
Boîte: “What’s wrong with that? A little healthy competition never hurts anyone.”
Doog: “Nothing, I guess. Unless, the LIU gives every city a bonus and tells them they are the best. They create urgency by creating the illusion of competition.”

Boîte: “Well, I now have to reexamine my whole purpose for living. Is Wec the best?”
Doog: “Don’t worry about it. You’re free now. Now you can be lazy and do half the work you did before. You’ll still get the bonus. Just you wait.”
Boîte: “If your theory is right, that might be the case. If you’re wrong, I’d be risking my bonus and Wec’s honor.”
Doog: “Do you really think your city has been the best for twenty straight years?”
Boîte: “We work hard. Really hard. Sometimes we come in on the weekends for free to raise production numbers. Maybe the other cities don’t do that. Wow, saying that out loud…maybe we are being scammed.”
Doog: “Free yourself from the illusion. Join the lazy.”

Boîte: “Hey Amanda, do you think the End of Cycle Bonus is a scam?”
Amanda: “What do you mean?”
Doog: “Uh, maybe you shouldn’t tell everyone. If the scam gets exposed, the LIU will still make you work harder, and you won’t get any bonus. Embrace the laziness you’ve unlocked for yourself.”
Amanda: “Scam? What scam?”
Boîte: “What if the LIU gives every town a bonus? We’ve been working extra hard and refusing to take days off because the LIU instilled a false sense of pride with these bonus scams?”
Amanda: “Well, I wasn’t thinking about it before, but I am now.”
Doog: “It’s just a theory! Let’s not destroy the whole system based on a theory, especially one of MY theories. I tend to be wrong…often.”
Amanda: “The bonus could be real, and questioning it could hurt production. Wec has a twenty-cycle streak going on. Do we risk it for this guy’s theory? Who is this guy anyway? He could be a spy from another Cannery Town.”

Boîte: “It does seem unlikely that those buffoons at the Mountain East Cannery would be getting a bonus. I’ve always heard they live in squalor.”
Amanda: “Don’t get me started on the Gorge Cannery. I heard no one there has an IQ over 70. You think they’re getting a bonus?”
Doog: “The fact that you guys criticize other canneries – that you’ve never been to – means you have been fed propaganda by the LIU. That sort of validates my theory…I mean…uh…yeah, those guys are so dumb. Let’s continue the tour! Where are we?”
Boîte: “This is the cannery loading dock. You know…he’s right. How do I know Mec is really a shanty town full of squalor or Gec is full of idiots?”
Amanda: “I don’t know. I’ve never been to any of the other cities on Pyxis.”
Boîte: “Me neither.”
Amanda: “I’ll ask around.”
Boîte: “Me too.”
Doog: “Or you could keep it to yourselves. Let’s not start a riot over some theory.”

Boîte: “This is a section of the cannery. It’s pretty self-explanatory. We put stuff in cans and seal them up. We box up the cans and sell them to whoever. That wraps up the tour. You can see yourself out. I need to stay and speak with these workers.”
Doog: “Boîte! Boîte! Wait! It’s just an idea. We have no idea if it’s true. If this rumor spreads, the LIU might not be happy. I’m not responsible! Boîte!”

Boîte: “Have any of you been to another Cannery Town?”
Doog: “Alright folks, that’s Pyxis. I want to wrap this episode up as quickly as possible. I might have broken this planet. Pyxis is an agricultural world that harvests numerous products, including crabs, fruits, and vegetables. These products are all canned in large factories. There are cities built around these canneries. People here tend to have a lot of pride in their city and cannery. They work hard to earn bonuses and keep their cities on the top if the production lists. The end of cycle bonus is real! I don’t know what Boîte is talking about! Gotta run! See ya!”
 
 
​
Note: The End-Of-Cycle Bonus IS real. A reeducation squad has been dispatched to West End Cannery to reiterate this to the workers. Work hard for your factory! Work hard for your city! <INSERT APPROPRIATE CITY NAME> is the best!