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!

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting a rocky, arid planet called Haesito. Haesito is temperate world, but it has very little precipitation. This is due to Haesito having no large bodies of water. Haesito’s water is mostly found in underground aquifers. Despite its lack of water, Haesito is classified as an agricultural world. Let’s head down and figure out how this is possible.”

​Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off on the surface of Haesito. It appears I’ve been dropped off in the middle of some type of farm. I see a few locals behind me, but I don’t think they are my guide. I’m supposed to be meeting with a human female. I am pretty certain about that. That’s why I used deodorant for a change.”

Doog: “Uh, hey there. Have you seen any beautiful human ladies roaming around here?”
Local: “No. I only know of one human on Haesito, the ‘Witch’. She never leaves her farm, and we dare not disturb her.”
Doog: “Witch, huh? That doesn’t sound promising. I shouldn’t have wasted my deodorant. Where can I find this witch?”
Local: “Keep walking north. She’s not far.”
Doog: “Ok. One last question, what do you mean by the ‘Witch’? Is she really ugly or mean? Does she do spells?”
Local: “I’m not entirely sure. I’ve never met her. I’ve only heard the rumors.”
Doog: “What rumors?”
Local: “Rumors that she is a witch.”
Doog: “Very helpful, thanks.”

Doog: “You come to a planet to possibly meet the love of your life, and all the sudden, you’re on a witch-hunt. Great.”
Local#2: “Beware traveler, there’s a witch in those foothills!”
Doog: “So, I’ve heard.”

Doog: “Ok, I traveled north a few miles, and it looks like I’ve found something. This farmhouse looks more elaborate than the locals’ little huts. There are also several robots buzzing around. This is probably the place. I don’t see any witches yet. Maybe, she’s out taking her broom for a spin.”

Lacey: “You must be that TV reporter.”
Doog: “That’s me. Unless, of course, you are the witch I’ve been warned about.”
Lacey: “Don’t listen to the rumors. The locals fear what they don’t understand. There aren’t any witches here.”
Doog: “That’s good to know. That is, if I can trust a robot.”
Lacey: “Robot? Is that metaphorical or something?”
Doog: “Meta-what? Look, I don’t have time for this. Where is your creator or master?”
Lacey: “Creator? Do you mean my parents?”
Doog: “Uh, sure. If that is what you call them.”

Lacey: “Dad! There’s some weird guy over here!”
Phillip: “Now, now, Lacey. It’s probably that TV reporter. Don’t call him weird. Hey, you must be Doog. Welcome to my family’s plantation.”
Doog: “Are you kidding me? Another bolt for brains. I’m looking for a human female.”
Phillip: “Did you just call me a ‘bolt for brains’? That’s incredibly rude. I’m not sure why my wife invited you here, but you better improve your attitude. You’re lucky my children are out here, otherwise you might have gotten acquainted with this rake.”
Doog: “Wife? Children? Is something wrong with your programming? You are a…”

Fay: “Stop! Stop talking to them!”
Doog: “Huh?”

Lacey: “Mom, what’s going on? You’re scaring me!”
Doog: “I’m the one that should be scared! She’s pointing a gun at me! Please don’t shoot me witch!”
Fay: “No one is getting shot. Everyone, just relax.”
Phillip: “I don’t know. I’m liking the idea of shooting this guy. He called me ‘bolt for brains’ and called you a witch.”
Fay: “It’s all a misunderstanding. I need to explain some things to Doog. He doesn’t understand.”
Doog: “You’re right about that. I have no idea what’s happening here. Why is your family a group of…?”

Fay: “Finish that sentence, and it will be your last. I’m not kidding. You must remain silent until I explain some things to you. Please, say nothing else.”
Phillip: “The boys and I can dig a grave, honey. We’ve got your back.”
Fay: “That’s not necessary.”

Fay: “Lacey, once you finish up your chores, see if your brothers need any help. Phillip, Doog and I are going inside for this interview. Everything is ok. We’ll be back shortly.”
Phillip: “Call me cynical, but I’m going to grab a shovel and get started on this hole. Six feet deep, right?”

Fay: “Come on. Let’s go inside.”
Doog: “Yes. Let’s go into a locked barn with a lady holding a shotgun while her ‘husband’ digs my grave. A lady that the locals accuse of being a witch. Sounds safe.”
Fay: “I thought I told you not to talk.”

Fay: “Phew. That was close. I almost ruined everything because I was in the bathroom.”
Doog: “Can I talk now?”
Fay: “Yes. It’s soundproof.”
Doog: “What in world is going on? I’m so confused. Am I going to die?”
Fay: “No, sorry about that. I couldn’t let you talk to my family. They don’t know what they are.”
Doog: “They don’t know they’re robots?”
Fay: “They are not robots. They are mechanical avatars. I’ve uploaded their consciousness into these avatars.”
Doog: “So, they are real people? Like, your actual family?”
Fay: “Yes.”
Doog: “Weird.”

Doog: “We discovered the what? How about the why?”
Fay: “Let’s start with the who. I’m Doctor Fay Morgan. I’m a scientific researcher for the LIU. My specialty is with mind uploading.”
Doog: “So, your doing experiments on your own family?”
Fay: “It sounds terrible, doesn’t it? I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. The LIU wanted quick results.”
Doog: “What are you testing?”
Fay: “Mind uploading has been around for a while. Workers on some planets upload into mechanical avatars to work in less than ideal conditions. Some people upload into digital constructs to meet or interact. However, I am more interested in the avatar part.”
Doog: “Yeah, I’m familiar with the process. I was even uploaded into mechanical avatar once.”
Fay: “Good, so you’re familiar with how artificial the experience is. You know how difficult it is to control.”
Doog: “Indeed. I found it was nearly impossible to control an advanced avatar.”

Fay: “My studies involve a new form of upload that is so realistic, it is indistinguishable from reality.”
Doog: “How?”
Fay: “Older forms of mind uploading involve mapping the brain and transferring that map to a digital system. You experience things through that digital recreation of your mind. The digital copy is never perfect, though. So, your experience is not perfect. Your movements are not perfect. My form of upload removes the digital step. Your actual brain does the processing. We send it information from the avatar and trick the mind into thinking these inputs are coming from your nervous system.”
Doog: “I’m not sure I get it.”
Fay: “Take vision, for example. You see because your eyes send information to your brain. We hijack that connection and send the brain information from the avatar’s camera instead of the eyes.”
Doog: “I get it, I guess. How do you hijack connections?”
Fay: “That’s where the Memini Gourds come in handy.”
Doog: “The what?”
Fay: “Those huge orange fruits growing outside. They contain natural neural compounds. I use them to make a neural gel that allows your brain to directly connect into a computer system. Using this, I can control what information your brain receives.”

Fay: “Think of it this way. In the old system, your brain travels to the new location. In my new system, your brain stays where it is. The inputs from the new location come to you.”
Doog: “I guess I get it, in principle. I have lots of questions though. Why don’t they see their robot arms and realize they are not in their bodies? How do they not notice each other? Don’t they realize they have eight arms and one eye? That they are hovering?”
Fay: “All good questions. Follow me.”

Fay: “This is where I keep the reality server, oh, and my family.”
Doog: “What’s a reality server?”
Fay: “The information gathered by the avatars’ sensors, like sight, sounds, pressure, temperature, et cetera, are sent to the server and converted into information the brain can understand. Like before, I hijack some of these connections. I can make them see whatever I want. So, when they see the mechanical avatar of their sibling or child, the system overwrites it with images of their sibling or child.”
Doog: “Sort of like a deepfake video.”
Fay: “Precisely.”

Doog: “Why the secrecy? Why not tell your family they’ve been uploaded?”
Fay: “It is part of the experiment. If I don’t tell them, will they ever know? Is this new form of upload perfectly real?”
Doog: “So, when you were freaking out earlier - you know, with the gun – that was to protect your experiment?”
Fay: “Yeah, mostly. There’s also the possibility that they’ll have a psychotic break if they discover the truth. Finding out that your reality for the last two years has been fake might mess you up in the head.”
Doog: “They’ve been in there for two years!”
Fay: “Yes. It’s harder for me than it is for them, though.”
Doog: “How so?”
Fay: “Not being able to actually touch my family or hug my kids. Constantly pretending these steel bots are actual human bodies. Always worrying they’ll discover the truth and go mad.”
Doog: “That would be hard.”

Fay: “The days are hard, but it gets better at night.”
Doog: “You get to sit in a dentist’s chair?”
Fay: “What? No. I get to upload myself into an avatar. Hack myself into seeing my real family. Move into a better reality.”

Fay: “These are those Memini, I was talking about.”
Doog: “They’re a real brain food. Get it?”
Fay: “Ha, got it.”
Phillip: “How did it go in there, honey? I see you lost that gun. Did I dig a hole for nothing?”
Fay: “Yes, sweetie. Everything is fine”
Doog: “Uh, yeah. Sorry about earlier. I don’t know what got into me.”
Phillip: “No worries.”
Doog: “Your kids are beautiful. Is this your daughter?”
Phillip: “That’s my son! My daughter doesn’t have a beard! That’s it! Get me a gun! This hole is getting used after all!”
Fay: “Wait! Another misunderstanding!”

Fay: “Everyone just calm down! It’s just another misunderstanding. Doog is…uh…blind. Yeah, blind.”
Doog: “Well folks, I better wrap this one up. I don’t know how long Fay can keep her family away. I can’t summarize things in too much detail. I don’t want her family to overhear. Haesito, there’s brain pumpkins, neural gels, and new forms of upload. Gotta run, see ya!”
 
 
 
Note: Improvements in mind uploading will open up new markets. Tourists can experience other worlds without leaving home. Workers can help out on projects on distant planets. You can reject this reality and substitute your own.

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting a subspace listening post called Surdaster Station Foxtrot. It is one of dozens of similar stations spread across the LIU Galaxy. These listening posts monitor subspace for any pirate signals or illegal communication. If you remember back to Season 4, it is illegal to bypass the Nuntius Stations when sending subspace communications.”

Doog: “The Surdaster Station has a large Subspace Array that can detect a variety of signals. Anything being transmitted in this portion of the galaxy will be intercepted.”

Doog: “The array is almost as big as the rest of the station. From what I’m told, this lower portion of the station is manned. It’s probably going to be a little cramped in there.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve entered Surdaster Station Foxtrot’s airlock, and this is pure genius. To save space, it looks like the bathroom has been moved into the airlock. Think of how awesome that is. If you stink the bathroom up, you just jettison the fumes out the airlock. Need to clean the bathroom, just open out the airlock and kill all the germs. Problem solved. I need to implement this into the Magellan.”

Doog: “Someone needs to open the airlock into this room too. It’s a pigsty in here! Uh, hello there. I’m here.”
SAM: “One moment visitor. I’m translating Kemb to Basic. Kemb is an artificially constructed language used by smugglers to hide their communications. They are not aware that I can translate their new language. I’ll be done shortly.”

SAM: “Thanks you for your patience, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Welcome to Surdaster Station Foxtrot. I am the station’s AI, SAM. That stands for Subspace Array Monitor. I serve many functions, including hospitality and companionship. Our operators are alone on the station for several months. I help keep them healthy, rational, and sane.”
Doog: “They need some guys like you on the Fari Stations. Loneliness makes people do weird things.”
SAM: “Thank you for that input. I hope my abilities allow me to meet your needs. Dylan will be with you soon. In the meantime, I offer many entertainment options. Perhaps you would like to play a game?”
Doog: “Uh…sure.”

Dylan: “No one wants to play games with you, Sam. He was just being nice. Sorry about that. Duty called. Frickin smugglers and their language constructs.”
SAM: “Terrance “Doog” McDoogal, this is…”
Dylan: “I’m Dylan. I’ve got this from here, Sam. Go back to analyzing signals. If you have a mute mode, engage that or something.”
SAM: “Very well.”
Dylan: “I said shut it, Sam! Geez, this freaking robot drives me crazy sometimes.”
Doog: “You’re kind of harsh on your friend.”
Dylan: “Sam is not as great as he seems, and he’s not my friend. You should try sitting in a box with this guy for six months. Let’s play a game, Dylan. We should clean the station, Dylan. How about some exercise, Dylan? Sam is like a nagging wife that never stops jabbering. I swear he stares at me even when I sleep.”
Doog: “I guess that could get annoying, but it’s better than being alone.”

Dylan: “Pssht, these Surdaster tours are only a year. I could make it a year by myself.”
SAM: “Multiple studies suggest otherwise.”
Dylan: “Are you still talking? I thought I told you to butt out.”
SAM: “My programming does not allow me to ignore your issues, Dylan.”
Dylan: “You’re my issue, Sam. Make yourself useful and clean this place up while the humans talk.”
SAM: “My power umbilical prevents me from accessing the dirty parts of the station. We are a team. We both need to participate to keep the listening post tidy.”
Doog: “Speaking of dirty, how awesome is that airlock bathroom!?”
Dylan: “Yeah, REAL awesome. I panic every time I sit on the john. Will someone come barging in? Will the door open and suck me out into space? I don’t want to be found dead, floating in space with my pants around my ankles and a wad of toilet paper in my hand.”
Doog: “I didn’t think about that.”

Doog: “We’re getting way off topic. Tell me more about this station.”
Dylan: “It’s not too complicated. Sam filters through thousands of signals intercepted by the station. Most of it is harmless, like ship to ship messaging and fractal signal scatterings. When Sam finds an illegitimate or unlawful message, he sends it to my workstation. I analyze it from there. Where did it originate? Who sent it? Where is it going? Does the message contain any rebellious or illicit content? If I find something, I pass it on to the military.”
Doog: “Seems somewhat interesting. Ever intercept anything significant?”
Dylan: “Oh, let’s see…”
SAM: “Remember, much of what we uncover is classified, Dylan.”
Dylan: “Yeah, I know. Thank you, mom.”

Dylan: “I can’t really get into detail, but most of the stuff I intercept is from local smugglers. I have picked off a few extragalactic signals that were interesting, mostly anti-LIU propaganda.”
Doog: “Foreign influences? From who?”
SAM: “Look at the time! Let’s do some light cardio! One and two and three…”
Dylan: “Looks like I said too much. Sam’s panicking.”
SAM: “I was merely changing the subject. Cardio isn’t a bad idea, though. You’ve been sitting for six months with minimal exercise.”
Dylan: “I get my cardio in every time I use the bathroom. I can’t take a deuce without having an anxiety attack.”
SAM: “That does not qualify. Perhaps we can play a game of catch when Doog leaves.”
Dylan: “You’re crazy, Sam. I’m not playing catch with you.”
SAM: “Oh, I know. Let’s do some jazzercise. I have access to over seven million music tracks. There should be something you like.”
Dylan: “You see what I have to deal with. That’s the hardest part of this job.”
SAM: “Please play something with me, Dylan.”
Doog: “Things are getting weird. I think I get the gist of station. I’m going to head out.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s what a Surdaster Station is like. Little listening posts, like this, search for illegal communications within the LIU Galaxy. Apparently, some of these illegal communications come from outside the galaxy. Each Surdaster Station is manned with one worker, that completes a yearlong tour. Each worker has been given an AI companion to help with signal analysis. These AI guys also help in other areas, like companionship and entertainment. However, on this station, it looks like the AI is the one that needs a friend. Oh well, see ya!”

​ 
Note:

SAM: “A game of dominos would be fun!”
Dylan: “I’m not listening to you, Sam. I’m trying to work.”
SAM: “There are not any signals to analyze at the moment. Your free to do as you choose. Ooh, I have an idea. Let’s make a domino line. We can make it massive and weave it all through the station.”
Dylan: “Nope. Not happening.”
SAM: “Terrance “Doog” McDoogal, how about you? Dominos?”
Doog: “I…uh…have to go to the doctor for…uh…this rash. Yeah, rash. The rash part is actually true. I mean…uh…the whole thing is true, but especially the rash part. I have to go. Sorry!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the ringed, ice-world of Vorago. Vorago suffered an impact event a few hundred years ago. The resulting ejecta formed the planet’s rings. The asteroid strike also started an ‘impact winter’ on Vorago. Ash, dust, and debris, from the impact, blocked enough sunlight to cool global temperatures. This gave rise to large ice sheets, which reflect back solar radiation, causing temperatures to drop even further. As the temperature drops, more ice forms, and more sunlight gets reflected. Vorago has an endless feedback scenario going on. It doesn’t look like winter is ending anytime soon.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’m down here on the surface of Vorago. It looks like I’ve been dropped off in a small village next to a half-frozen lake. I have no idea how the lake isn’t completely frozen. It’s pretty cold.”

Doog: “The natives look…interesting. I guess surviving an unrelenting winter has taken its toll.”

Supik: “I am Supik, Supreme of Clan Mal’uk. State your business.”
Doog: “My business is making a sub-par, purportedly educational, TV show about the galaxy.”
Supik: “Huh? Oh, you’re that guy that wants a tour. I remember now. Doggy or Dodgy was your name, right?”
Doog: “Doog, actually. But dodgy works too. I do have a reputation.”
Supik: “I see. Well, dodgy Doog, welcome to Pinga’an, my people’s village.”
Doog: “It’s good to be here.”

Doog: “So, tell me about Pinga’an. It looks like a quaint, lake-side village.”
Supik: “Quaint? You spit in our faces!”
Doog: “Whoa, I meant no offense! It just looks like everything is built of simple materials like stones and wood.”
Supik: “The Calamity took everything but the stones. Even wood is rare. Our village is not quaint. It is testament to our ingenuity, resourcefulness, and drive to survive. The Calamity took everything, even the weak.”
Doog: “Alright, I see that now. This calamity you speak of, is that the impact event?”
Supik: “No, not the impact itself. The Calamity is the period after the strike, when the unending winter began. The Calamity is when millions starved because the crops froze. The Calamity is when millions became homeless when ice flows and glaciers crushed their cities. The Calamity is now, when we rest perilously on the edge of extinction.”

Doog: “You guys are still experiencing the Calamity?”
Supik: “It does not end until the forests return, until the rivers thunder through the valleys, and the great cities return from the frost.”
Doog: “Any idea when that will be?”
Supik: “Maybe never. Definitely won’t happen in my lifetime. We will endure, though, like we always have.”
Doog: “How were you able to survive?”
Supik: “Villages, like Pinga’an, are located next to the only remaining resource, the subsurface sea.”

Doog: “This is a sea? Looks like a pond.”
Supik: “This is just a portal, an opening in the ice. The sea is below us.”
Doog: “Why isn’t this section freezing?”
Supik: “Salty water freezes at a much lower temperature than fresh water. The waters have grown considerably saltier because lots of the water has been turned into ice. As long as we churn this saltier water, the portal will not freeze.”
Doog: “Ah, that’s what the windmill is for!”
Supik: “Precisely. It is connected to a wheel below the surface. The cold winds coming down the mountain turn the mill, which turns the wheel, which keeps the water unfrozen. This allows us to fish for food and have access to water.”

Doog: “So, that’s all you have? Fish and salty water? Do you sell fish to the LIU?”
Supik: “No. It is our last resource. It would be unwise to overfish.”
Doog: “Hmm, the LIU has to be getting something from you.”
Supik: “Labor mostly.”
Doog: “Labor?”
Supik: “The LIU needs workers for a facility not far from here.”
Doog: “Do you get money for this labor? It might allow you to make things a little better around here.”
Supik: “We don’t get money.”

Supik: “We get wood. A rare, but necessary resource.”
Doog: “Wood? Doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”
Supik: “You forget the value of wood until your forests are under a mile of ice. We need it to make fires, cook food, construct tools, and build homes. We treasure wood.”
Doog: “I see free wood all around. Look at these trees.”
Supik: “They are dead. They will not regrow. They are a limited resource and rarely harvested. If the LIU would leave, the dead wood would be the last we ever got. Call it a limited stockpile of survival.” 

Doog: “So, do you all labor?”
Supik: “No. Each village elects a laborer and sends him to the LIU facility for a period of ten years. When he or she is finished, we send another. Some laborers perish before completing their full term, and we must send another sooner. Some survive the decade and retire. They can then come back to the village, like Arwin here.
Arwin: “They say it is an honor to labor for your village. They lie. My body is spent and my soul is empty. All for some wood.”
Supik: “You should have thought about that before you slept with my sister! I’ll send you back for another decade if you’re not careful!”
Doog: “You pick who goes? I thought you said ‘elected’.”
Supik: “I am the Supreme of Clan Mal’uk. My word is final!”

Supik: “Speaking of my people’s ill fate has grown too tiresome; I’m through with you. It’s time for you to go.”
Doog: “I thought you were supposed to take me to the LIU facility?”
Supik: “That was before you irritated me.”
Doog: “I’ve hardly been irritating today. Did you know how many times I bit my tongue when you said the LIU gives you wood? Wait…is this about the ‘quaint’ thing?”
Supik: “Quiet! I’ll show you the way, but you’re going there alone!”
Doog: “OK, then. I’m sure I’ll find it.” 

Supik: “Climb to the top of the valley. Follow the mountain range for two miles. Then descend into that valley. You’ll find the LIU there.”
Doog: “You have got to be kidding me. That’s going to take me days.”

Doog: “Alright, alright. I’m making progress. I can’t feel my legs…though, and…I can barely catch my…breath, but I’m making…progress.”
Supik: “You only went up two sections.”
Doog: “It’s progress! Who’s being the…. irritating one now?”

Doog: “Be a TV host…they said. It’s all fun…and games. Meet people…be rich…get the…ladies. Not…a…word about…climbing…eight-hundred…foot ladders. I can’t…do this. Must call…the Magellan.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I had the Magellan pick me up and bring me to Helminth Station, a LIU facility at the bottom of an adjacent valley. I’m joined with Dr. Simon, the guy that runs this place.”
Bruce: “Call me Bruce. My doctorate is in Industrial Technology. I don’t need to flaunt the title.”

Doog: “Industrial Technology? What does this facility do?”
Bruce: “The impact event rendered Vorago’s surface economically useless, but the planet does have subsurface ocean that is still viable. My job is to make exploring this ocean safer, easier, and cheaper. We’re developing technology now that is doing just that.”
Doog: “I hope it’s not to harvest fish, because that’s the only thing the natives have going for them.”
Bruce: “No, we wouldn’t do that. We’ve already found something better than fish, and there’s a lot more to be explored. Let’s not stand outside in the cold discussing it. Follow me.”

Bruce: “This is the research center. This is where we test various plants, animals, and minerals we find below the ice.”
Doog: “Find anything good?”
Bruce: “A few things, but some technological improvements must be made to make harvesting them economically sustainable.”
Doog: “What’s holding you back?” 

Bruce: “Take a look at the map. The subsurface ocean is the result of a large river valley freezing over. See how it meanders like the river once did? The current has stopped, as the source has frozen over, but the water trapped below the ice still exists. The tight twists and turns in the subsurface sea make it hard to get big equipment down there. We’ve been limited to sending individual divers.”
Doog: “The native laborers.”
Bruce: “Yes. It’s dangerous though. You don’t want to get lost or trapped and run out of oxygen. Suit decompressions are a risk too. I’m trying to make it safer for them.”
Doog: “What are those dots on the map?”
Bruce: “Access points. There are villages at those points…well, except the blue one. That is this facility. Where were you before coming here?”
Doog: “Pinga’an, I believe.”
Bruce: “That’s the yellow one, in front of you. There’s access points spread throughout the valley; this is just showing the immediate area.”

Bruce: “I’ve agreed to take you below the ice, but I have a few conditions.”
Doog: “There’s always conditions.”
Bruce: “One, you’ll have to wear one of the specialized diving suits I designed. Two, we’re sticking close to the portal, so you don’t get lost or trapped. It’s deeper and brighter there, so you’ll be safer. And, three, I have a few hundred release statements for you to sign.”
Doog: “Get me a pen, a wrist brace, and an ibuprofen. Let’s do this.”

Bruce: “It looks like you are all set. Oxygen and rebreather are online. Pressure is steady. Let’s do a quick comms check before we head out. Check, check, do you copy?”
Doog: “No.”
Bruce: “No? How did you know to respond if you can’t hear me?”
Doog: “I hear you, but don’t understand you. What is a checkcheck?”
Bruce: “It’s what you say when…never mind, it’s all working. Let’s go.”

Bruce: “If you find yourself lost or separated, ignore spiritual wisdom, and head towards the light. Light means you can exit the ice.”
Doog: “Got it. Speaking of ice, where’s your windmill? How is this not frozen?”
Bruce: “Thermo-pads are built into the structure. We’re a little more high-tech than the natives. Let’s go.”

Doog: “Wow, this is cool.”
Bruce: “Isn’t it? Several underwater species have survived the ‘Calamity’. They do quite well despite the higher salinity and lowered sunlight.”
Doog: “I’m surprised it is this bright down here.”
Bruce: “Sunlight penetrates ice thinner than ten meters. Most of the river channel or subsurface sea is covered by less than that. Photosynthesis is still viable.”
Doog: “Will that change? If the ice gets thicker?”
Bruce: “It appears stable. Despite the runaway cooling effect on the surface, the subsurface environment remains steady. Heat from the planet’s core seems to keep these seas warm. The ice shouldn’t expand into the sea any further. It is possible for snow or ice to fall from above and increase the ice depth, so there is still a possibility the subsurface could experience the calamity as well.”

Doog: “So, what’s the resource you found down here? If I know this show, the reveal is something amazing or galaxy-changing. Do these plants cure syphilis? Fish that break the speed of light? Control minds? Fill your pockets with gold?”
Bruce: “You’ll be disappointed if that’s what you’re hoping for. Vorago is good for one thing, food. The only thing it is filling…is bellies.”
Doog: “There’s food down here? Wait, it’s not the fish is it?”

Bruce: “Relax. I told you the fish are safe. It’s something the natives never knew existed.”
Doog: “What is it?”
Bruce: “Sea worms.”
Doog: “Eww, that sounds terrible.”
Bruce: “The stigma associated with worm meat is a hurdle, but these puppies are tasty. Finding a worm is like finding a pig buried underground.”
Doog: “Wait…are you implying there’s a bacon substitute in this ground?”
Bruce: “More or less. The Vorago Sea Worm closely matches pork in many taste tests. Better yet, each worm is almost pure meat. They have no bones or cartilage. Fat cylinders of meat are just below our feet. The problem is finding them.”

Doog: “Don’t leave me hanging. How do we find the burrowing pork worms?”
Bruce: “My patented ultrasonic motion detectors. There are many more than we thought. They’re all over. It’s an abundant meat source that rivals the fish supply.”
Doog: “Bacon worms on the horizon. Looks like they found something!”

Doog: “Ooh, wow. That’s bigger than I expected. That’s what she said. But seriously! That’s a fat worm! Also, that’s what she said!”
Bruce. “Sea worms are harvested at around two hundred and fifty pounds. That’s the weight of a fully matured worm. We do grab a three hundred pound one on occasion.”
Doog: “Geez. How do you carry them out of here?”
Bruce: “Well, they’re pretty weightless in the water. Cranes on the surface lift them out of the water.”

Doog: “It’s wriggling and pulsating. So, disgusting!”
Bruce: “Doesn’t look appetizing, does it? It’s also dangerous when it flails like this. That stinger can tear a suit.”
Doog: “Bacon of the sea sounded good at first, but this is really off-putting. I don’t know if I could eat one of these.”
Bruce: “Another challenge we are struggling to overcome. We’ve been processing the meat at Helminth Station before shipping it out. When people don’t see the source, they don’t mind eating it.”
Doog: “I guess with the right marketing; you guys might be on to something. Goodluck with that!”
Bruce: “Thanks!”

Doog: “Well folks, this episode was the story of two worlds; the surface and the subsurface. Vorago suffered an impact event that started an unending winter. Despite losing access to most resources, the tough natives have survived. Things might be tough up on the surface, but there’s a paradise just below the ice. The subsurface is beautiful and there’s pig-flavored worms in the ground. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to catch a ride on this crane so I don’t have to swim out of here. See ya!”
 
 
Note: Vorago Sea Worm meat is sold under the brand Pork Grub ™. Most consumers are unaware that grub refers to more than just food.   

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance ‘Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Nescius. Nescius is large, terrestrial planet orbiting the star, Inscius. Nescius is classified as a jungle world. Thick, tropical forests cover much of the planet. One of these jungles, near the equator, is our destination. Let’s head on down.”

Doog: “Alright, folks. Welcome to the jungle. As far as jungles go, this one doesn’t seem too bad. The vegetation isn’t overly abundant. It’s probably because this part of the forest is inhabited. There’s a large structure, here, in front of me. I don’t see my guide, though.”

Doog: “I don’t see my guide, but I do see a variety of wildlife. There are tons of vibrant birds perched in the vegetation. They all have flashy tailfeathers. Keep on shaking it, birds! You'll get a lady one of these days!”

Doog: “Birds, trees, vines, and thousands of noisy bugs. They are super annoying. Add that to the list of reasons I don’t like insects.”

Galba: “Ooh, ooh. That’s a little harsh isn’t it? Perhaps you’re hanging around the wrong insects.”
Doog: “Holy Emperor! What are you?! I mean…uh…who are you?”
Galba: “I am Galba Ul. But, since you are my friend, you may call me Galba.”

Galba: “Speaking of our friendship, I believe it is customary to shake hands.”
Doog: “I’m not sure if…”
Galba: “Come on now, don’t leave me hanging. Get over here. No, no. Not that hand. This mechanical suit is not me; it is but a tool. My hands are in the front. Pick one!”
Doog: “If you insist…”
Galba: “Yes, yes. Ooh. That was nice. Shake another one if you like.”
Doog: “I think one handshake is enough. Things are already moving a bit too fast for me.”

Doog: “So, here we are. Two friends in the jungle.”
Galba: “Yes, yes. So exciting!”
Doog: “I think this is the part where you tell me about things. Like, where are we exactly?”
Galba: “This is the Awakening Center. It is a home for my people, built by the LIU. It is bigger than you would expect. It extends deep into the cliffside. Would you like to come in?”
Doog: “Anything to get away from these chirping bugs. No offense.”

Doog: “Why did the LIU build you a home?”
Galba: “It is a matter of arms. Ooh, yes. Arms.”
Doog: “Arms? Are you talking about weapons?”
Galba: “Ho, ho! No, silly. Anatomical arms. My species, while suitably intelligent, does not possess appendages capable of manipulating materials or developing technology. The LIU made us a home because we could not do it on our own. You need arms to build homes. Ooh, homes like this, anyway.”
Doog: “That makes sense. Arms would be useful in that regard.”
Galba: “Yes, ooh. The LIU eventually gave us mechanical arms. We can now interact with the world. Ooh, our sentience is purposeful now.”
Doog: “I see. I guess the real question is, why was the LIU motivated to assist your species?”

Galba: “The LIU’s motive is simple. We were not safe without a home. In the forests, we were susceptible to predation. Ooh, birds are pretty, but hungry.”
Doog: “The birds eat you?!”
Galba: “Our young mostly. Sometimes our dead. Ooh, but do not be mad. We are safe now.”
Doog: “Wait, is this some type of nursery?”
Galba: “Ooh! Wonderful way to describe it. Our home is where we raise our family safely. Each instar is safe within these walls.”

Doog: “Instar?”
Galba: “Does my friend not know of the stages?”
Doog: “No. I have no idea what you are talking about. Stages?”
Galba: “My species goes through five stages of development or instars: egg, larva, nymph, juvenile, and adult.”
Doog: “Ah, I remember that, now. That’s an insect-thing. Wait, are you an adult? Or, are you going to turn into some type of butterfly?”
Galba: “Ooh! Ho, ho! How beautiful I would be! But…no. I am not a caterpillar. I am an adult of my species.”
Doog: “Got it. What about these white spheres? Eggs, I presume?”
Galba: “Yes. Ooh, so safe in here. No pretty birds to eat them. Many more survive now.”
Doog: “So, that’s all this place is? A nursery?”
Galba: “Ho, ho! Not at all, friend. Let’s continue.”

Doog: “What the heck am I looking at here?”
Galba: “The sorting. Ooh, to be chosen.”
Doog: “What?”

Galba: “Sentience is relatively new development within my species. The gene for sentience is rare. Not all newborn larvae possess it.”
Doog: “Wait, some of your species is born without sentience.”
Galba: “Yes. Very few enjoy this gift. Only a small percent of my species emerges sentient. The gene is quite recessive.”

Doog: “So, earlier, when you said, ‘sorting’. You meant separating the sentient larvae from the insentient?”
Galba: “Ooh, perceptive, friend. With use of technology, it is now possible to determine sentience with genetics. We no longer have to wait until the juvenile instar. Ooh, ooh, praise to arms. Arms are great. Arms allow us to perform science.”
Doog: “I guess so.”

Galba: “You can see the brood differential here. Only two of the brood hold the sentience gene. Ooh, to be chosen. Two more gifts from the Infinite Father. Ooh. Oooooh. Oooooooh.”
Doog: “So, what happens now? You guys don’t get into the genocide or eugenics stuff, do you? The insentient aren’t murdered, are they?”
Galba: “Oh, ooh. Not at all. Even the unknowing deserve life. Both the sentient and insentient are fed and cared for identically, at least, until the juvenile instar.”

Galba: “Once our young enter the juvenile instar, their paths diverge. Our sentient children are educated. Ooh, it is an intense educational program. My race does not have the luxury of time. Our life expectancy is a mere thirty years. Ooh, to experience sentience for a century like humans do. Imagine the possibilities.”
Doog: “Not all humans live a hundred years. Especially not this one. Tacos, drugs, and brothels have lowered my expectancy to half that amount.”
Galba: “Ooh, oh. To possess such quantities of sentience and squander it away. It is a shame.”
Doog: “What good is sentience if you can’t enjoy yourself?”
Galba: “Perhaps, even a fleeting glimpse into experiencing the universe is enough. Countless living things never experience it.”
Doog: “Uh, things are getting a tad too deep for my tastes. I only like contemplating existence after doing drugs. I’m sober, here.”

Galba: “The insentient cannot be educated, but that does not make them purposeless.”
Doog: “Uh…what’s happening here? This is creepy.”

Galba: “Ooh, do not be uncomfortable. They are not in pain.”
Doog: “Maybe not, but why are they strapped into this column?”
Galba: “The insentient are not safe in the jungles. Ooh, they will die if not protected.”
Doog: “So, you incarcerate them?”
Galba: “Life or, ooh, death? Which is preferable? Insentient creatures always choose life. It is ingrained in their biology. They do everything to survive, ooh. Insentient life never purposely kills itself or makes dangerous lifestyle choices. Only sentient life chooses death. Ooh, ooh, like you and your tacos. Sentience defies biology. Sentient life can choose to die.”
Doog: “What does that have to do with worm jail?”
Galba: “Justification for imprisonment, ooh. We know that the unknowing would prefer life over death, even at great cost. It is our duty as sentients to protect the unknowing; aid them in their drive for survival.”

Doog: “Did you just say, ‘justification’? Justification for what?”
Galba: “The Infinite Father taught us to describe our actions as such. We, ooh, must preserve our species.”
Doog: “Yes, but people don’t say ‘justification’, unless there is an implication that the actions are not warranted. Are you getting something from the insentient?”

Galba: “Ooh, ooh. They are getting many resources from us: food, water, ooh, temperature control, antibiotics, and, of course, protection. In return, we take only the smallest from the unknowing.”
Doog: “So, that’s a ‘yes’.”

Galba: “Ooh, a very small donation is made by the insentient in a non-invasive, controlled manner.”
Doog: “They have tubes shoved into their heads! Looks pretty invasive!”
Galba: “Ooh, see reason, friend. The tube is not in their heads, but inserted into their pheromone gland located on the back of the neck.”
Doog: “Pheromone gland?”
Galba: “Yes, ooh. My species admits an aggregation pheromone when we find safe places. The pheromone tells others to come to the safe spot, ooh.”
Doog: “And…this is a safe place, so the insentient are emitting it.”
Galba: “Constantly, my friend.”
Doog: “What does the LIU want it for?”
Galba: “Our pheromone contains many useful organic chemicals, including many monoterpenes. Monoterpenes are used as ingredients in cosmetics, perfumes, artificial flavorings, ooh, and many anti-cancer medications.”
Doog: “That is some pretty useful neck juice. Creepy way to obtain it, though. Even creepier that you milk members of your own species for this stuff.”
Galba: “Many insects produce monoterpenes, but never at this scale. My species is much larger, ooh. Too good of an opportunity to ignore. Ooh, it’s a small repayment to the LIU for these arms and homes.” 

Doog: “Wait, do the sentient members of your species produce those pheromones too? Why aren’t you being milked?”
Galba: “Ooh, to be a juvenile again. I regret that my species ceases the emission of aggregation pheromones in the adult instar. Ooh, our size keeps us safe in this stage. No need to hide somewhere safe. The sentient juveniles do secrete aggregation pheromones, but they are much too busy to donate. School, ooh, is too important.”
Doog: “I guess that makes sense. Wait, what is done with the insentient adults?”
Galba: “The Infinite Father releases them to the wild. They are safe as adults.”
Doog: “Ok, hold on. I thought the ‘Infinite Father’ was some type of deity you guys worshiped. You’re telling me he is real?”
Galba: “Very real, ooh. The unending. The gifter of sentience. The Infinite Father. Ooh. You will meet him soon.”
Doog: “Is that where we are going?”
Galba: “Yes, ooh.”

Doog: “This is a very ‘ended’ father. This is a skeleton, Galba.”
Galba: “Ooh, patience. This is not the Infinite One. This is the Tomb of the First where the Awakened One slumbers.”
Doog: “The awakened one? Like the first to reach sentience?”
Galba: “Ooh! Yes! Very smart, friend. The Awakened One had the mutation that introduced sentience. His genetic ingenuity is responsible for our sentience. The Infinite Father be praised, ooh.”

Galba: “The Awakened One seeded many eggs. Many of his progeny achieved sentience.”
Doog: “The awakened guy got around, huh? Good for him. Game recognizes game.”
Galba: “Ooh, I don’t understand? Do you insult the Awoken?”
Doog: “No, not at all. I’m giving him props. Much respect.”
Galba: “I see, ooh.”

​Galba: “Ooh. Oooh. Ooooh! We are in his presence. Infinite Father, I am honored.”
Doog: “Hey, your father looks awfully familiar.”
Ab Gal: “Computer, initiate deep sleep protocol, specimen Galba.”
Computer: “Confirmed. Specimen Galba has been rendered safe.”
Ab Gal: “Thank you.”

Doog: “Hey! What did you do to Galba?!”
Ab Gal: “Nothing permanent. Galba has been rendered unconscious. His mechanical-suit
administered a memory suppressant. He mustn’t know what I’m about to communicate to you.”
Doog: “You don’t want him to know that you’re an Uplifter, right? I thought you guys were all on Nidavellir?”
Ab Gal: “We are wherever the LIU chooses.”
Doog: “His species never reached sentience, did they? You lifted them?”
Ab Gal: “Correct. The uplifted were necessary to harvest monoterpenes from the insentient. Insentient Nescium were distressed by other species. When approached, the insentient produced alarm pheromones instead of aggregation pheromones. The LIU realized that the aggregation pheromones could only be harvested by members of their own species. I was brought in to create sentient harvesters.”

Ab Gal: “I created the fifth instar to serve as collectors. The Nescium never advanced that far on their own.”
Doog; “So, the insentient ‘adult’ worms never get released into the wild after adolescence. They never exist.”
Ab Gal: “Correct, the insentient ‘juveniles’ are actually adults. They don’t get released. They donate pheromones until expiration.”

Ab Gal: “The true challenge to uplifting the Nescium was making the trait recessive. We did not want the entire race to advance.”
Doog: “Why?”
Ab Gal: “If the entire species gained sentience, there wouldn’t be anyone left to harvest.”
Doog: “I thought the sentient guys produced the pheromones too?”
Ab Gal: “They do, but they usually resist being locked into donation columns for their entire lives. As sentients, they are lawfully protected from being unjustly imprisoned. We needed the majority of the species to remain insentient.”
Doog: “I see.”
Ab Gal: “We tried alternatives, like lifting some of Nescius’ other species, but the results…”

Ab Gal: “…did not pan out.”
Birdman: “GWAA! GWAA!”
Ab Gal: “Quiet down bird brain!”
Birdman: “Sorry, boss. GWAA!”
Ab Gal: “Utterly useless…”

Doog: “Alright folks, that’s Nescius. How can I sum this one up? There are these worms, and they have valuable pheromones. Their pheromones are hard to collect though. They only release them when they feel safe. The Uplifters raised some of the worms into sentience, so they could harvest the insentient members of their species. It’s super weird, but somehow it makes sense. Oh well, see ya!”
 

Note: Need a team mascot? Having a children’s party? Are worms destroying your yard? Rent an Uplifted Birdman today! Some restrictions apply. Birdmen are sentient and therefore subject to free will.

Credits
Created by: Ludgonious
Crew Member:  Jonathan Rivlin

Amaya: “Hey! Look who finally woke up!”
Doog: “I need more painkillers. I can’t sleep.”
Amaya: Oh, you’re fine. You barely broke it.”
Doog: “Barely? Is there such thing as barely when it comes to broken bones?”

Amaya: “Your scans came in. You didn’t even break it all the way through. You’re going to take the Mel infused pills and be perfectly healed before we arrive on Nescius.”
Doog: “You seem awfully confident in these over-the-counter meds. Can’t we get something better with our insurance?”
Amaya: “I might have reduced our insurance to near zero. With the addition of Seitse, we had to cut some costs. Be glad we got you the pills and crutches.”
Doog: “That’s good to know.”
Amaya: “Speaking of crutches, you might be in less pain if you used both of them. Put down the mic for once.”
Doog: “Never!”

Doog: “Hey! Wait! Are you guys drinking my Orange Tea!?”
Cam: “Amaya said it was for everybody.”
Seitse: “Yeah. It’s delicious. Thanks, Doog.”
Doog: “It’s not for everyone! I earned that tea! I broke bones for that tea!”
Amaya: “We’re a team, Doog. We’re in this together. Any resources we acquire or possess are for everyone to use.”
Doog: “Oh, is that right?”

Amaya: “Yep.”
Doog: “If we share everything, I guess you won’t mind if I go sleep in your bed?”
Amaya: “That’s an empty threat.”
Doog: “No, it’s not. I’m going up there right now.”
Cam: “You wouldn’t even go up there with two good legs.”
Doog: “Mike! Wake up! Carry me upstairs!”
Mike: “Not happening.”
Doog: “Fine. You guys forced my hand. I’m going up.”

Amaya: “Please don’t hurt yourself. We’ll be in Nescius in eight days.”
Doog: “Fine. You called my bluff anyway.”
Cam: “What does happen if Doog’s leg doesn’t heal? Can we afford to sit around on Nescius for weeks?”
Amaya: “It wouldn’t be the worst idea to have a back-up host. If Doog’s not ready, we can still do the show.”
Doog: “Not a terrible idea. I could use a break.”
Amaya: “Oh, no. This isn’t to get out of work. This is for emergency purposes only. What do you think Oldie?”

Oldie: “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. Maybe we can do an audition?”
Amaya: “I like that. As Associate Producer, I think I should be a judge. Oldie, as Director, you should probably be a judge as well.”
Oldie: “What! I want to try out!”
Amaya: “I don’t want to decide by myself. Doog? Are you interested in judging? You have the most experience.”
Doog: “Do I want to sit in judgement of my fellow co-workers and friends? Does the Emperor like money? Abso-freakin-lutely! Let’s do this!”

​
Oldie

Oldie: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Bernard “Oldie” Douglas.”
Amaya: “Wait…your name is Bernard Douglas?”
Oldie: “Did you really think my parents named me ‘Oldie’?”
Amaya: “I had no idea.”
Oldie: “Oldie is just the nickname Doog gave me twelve years ago when we first met.”
Doog: “It was that or ‘Nards’.”
Oldie: “The choice was easy.”
Amaya: “Does anyone else here have a real name that I’m not aware of?”
Mike: “No, I think that’s it.”
Cam: “Timbo’s name is Tim. Doog added the -bo.”
Doog: “It’s a portmanteau of Tim and Bimbo.”
Mike: “Ouch, I didn’t know that one. I should have known no one was called Timbo.”
Amaya: “I can’t believe you let me call him that all this time! I’m so sorry, Tim!”
Timbo: “It’s ok. I sort of like it better. Adds some pop and originality to my name.”
Amaya: “I guess. Well, let’s get back on track.”

Amaya: “Bernard? Oldie? Did you fall asleep?”
Doog: “Looks like it’s nap time. Old Nards had a busy afternoon. Next!”
 

Timbo

Timbo: “Hi, I’m…”
Doog: “Not going to happen! Next!”
Amaya: “Come on. Give him a chance.”
Doog: “No way! Extra-Special-Super-Ultra-Veto, no take backs! Veto with cherries on top. Lock it up and throw away the key!”
Amaya: “I don’t think that’s a thing, but I don’t think he’s going to budge. Sorry Tim.”

​
​Mike

Mike: “Yo! Yo! Yo! Big Mike in the house! Welcome to Space Survivor!”
Doog: “Space Survivor?”
Amaya: “The show would still be LIU Atlas, Mike.”
Mike: “Are you sure? I’ve been dreaming up Space Survivor since Iaceo.”
Amaya: “Yeah. I’m sure. We’re looking for an emergency replacement for the next show, not taking pitches for new shows.”
Mike: “Bummer. Well, I’m not interested.”
 

Cam

Cam: “Can someone just nudge the hover-camera? It’s off axis.”
Doog: “It’s fine. We’re just recording in case we turn this into a Behind the Scenes episode.”
Cam: “Yeah, but I’m a stickler for proper framing. This is bothering me.”
Amaya: “You’re thinking like a camera man. Think like a host.”
Cam: “Actually, I think I’m just going to stick to the technical-side of TV. Let me fix that camera.”
 
​
Seitse

Seitse: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Seitse Isand, seventh daughter of Aed Isand, Lord of Kahreem.”
Doog: “Not too bad. Probably want to lose the extra titles after your name though. Simplify it. Just be Seitse Isand. You could throw a nickname in there. I’m thinking, Seitse ‘Doog’s Almost Wife’ Isand”
Seitse: “Ok, I’m not saying that. Let me try again. Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Seitse Isand, seventh daughter of Aed Isand, Lord of Kahreem.”
Doog: “You said the same thing.”
Seitse: “Sorry. My culture is so ingrained into my brain. I don’t know if I could do it, especially under pressure.”
Amaya: “No worries. You’re under enough stress studying to be our co-pilot and navigator.”

​Amaya: “What are you thinking? Any favorites?”
Doog: “I’m thinking we better triple my dose of pills.”
Amaya: “To be honest, I agree. Is it safe?”
Doog: “Is it safe letting these guys get on TV?”
Amaya: “I’ll get the meds.”
Doog: “I’ll need some of MY orange tea to wash it down.”
Amaya: “Whatever.”
Doog: “I’ll need MY own bed too. This guy is irreplaceable. I need to be pampered!”
 
 
Note: 

​Doog: “A cot in the utility room wasn’t what I meant when I said I need my own bed!”
Amaya: “Get well soon.”
Doog: “Seriously, I don’t even think this is a cot. I think it’s an ironing board. Hey, are you listening to me? Why is the door locked!”