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!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we’re visiting the planet, Limosi. Limosi is a circumbinary planet, orbiting the binary stars, Enki and Ea. Limosi also has a large, close-orbiting moon called Alignak. The combined gravitational forces from Enki, Ea, and Alignak have a great tidal effect on Limosi’s oceans, giving Limosi some of the galaxy’s most extreme tidal flooding. We’re here to check out the flooding and determine why people would live somewhere like this. Let’s head on down.”

Doog: “Alright folks, I’ve been dropped off at a spaceport in the coastal city, Seichi. Why would you build a city on the coastline of an area prone to flooding? Who knows? I guess that’s why everything around here is built on stilts. Seems like a less than ideal situation, though. Who would want to climb a ladder or stairs to get home?

Doog: “There’s a large sign near the landing platform indicating the current phase of Limosi’s moon. Looks like we’ve arrived near the waning crescent. I’m told the tides are the lowest during the quarter phases, so that’s good.”

Doog: “There appears to be quite a few cargo containers moving about. I don’t know if these are imports or exports, so I haven’t been able to determine what Limosi’s economy is just yet. I guess that means I need to find my guide. And, that means I need to find the beach.”

Doog: “Hey, could you direct me to the beach? I’m supposed to meet someone there.”
Guy: “Tower to freighter, Piggy Bank, continue on heading three-one-three. Reduce speed to twenty knots. Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’m doing anything. I’m just giving landing instructions to a billion-credit star-freighter flying over our heads.”
Doog: “So…is that a yes?”
Guy: “There’s no beaches on Limosi, not traditional ones anyway. I’m guessing your looking for the coastline. It’s two blocks east of here. Piggy Bank commence deacceleration and prepare to dock at Landing Pad 812.”
Doog: “I’m not really a compass kind of guy. East is which way?”
Guy: “Geez, these tourists are getting ridiculous. It’s that way, buddy. Now frack off.”
Doog: “So, that way? Right?”
Guy: “FRACK OFF!”
Doog: “I’ll just find it on my own. Thanks.”

Doog: “Some more helpful residents directed me here. It doesn’t really look like a beach. Where’s the sand? Where are the umbrellas? Where are the scantily clad beach goers? I see zero bikinis!”

Doog: “It’s all so muddy and slimy. This is the grossest beach I’ve ever seen.”

Azul: “It’s low tide right now. When the water comes back it’s not as gross.”
Doog: “Whoa! How about a little warning next time? I almost fell into the sludge beach.”
Azul: “My bad, bro. I think I’m your guide, so I just wanted to give the low down. I’m Azul.”
Doog: “Azul, huh? I’m Doog. I wasn’t startled before. That was all a joke. So, tell me about yourself. Relationship status, et cetera?”
Azul: “Single, not looking. I’m focusing on surfing and running my business.”
Doog: “Surfing?”
Azul: “Yeah. The tides here cause huge swells. Those swells and a good wind bring awesome waves. I catch a twenty-footer almost every high tide.”
Doog: “Sounds cool. I guess.”
Azul: “It’s more than cool, bro. It’s hard to find a planet with consistent, big waves like this. That’s why all the tourists are here. Seichi is a surf town.”
Doog: “That makes more sense now. I was wondering why people would risk living near the coast.”

Azul: “Bro, it’s not that big of a risk. Once you understand the tides, it’s not such a big deal.”
Doog: “I guess that’s my problem. I don’t understand the tides.”
Azul: “Dude, it’s really simple. Large bodies, like the suns and the moon, pull on the Limosi’s oceans. Depending on their position, they pull more or less. During a full moon or new moon, Limosi, the moon, and the suns are all aligned. They pull more strongly, creating a high tide. When the moon moves out of alignment during the waxing and waning phase, the moon and suns cancel each other out, creating a low tide.”
Doog: “I guess that’s simple enough.”
Azul: “There’s some more factors at play considering Limosi orbits a binary. Depending on the suns’ alignment, tides can be even higher. We experience those a few times each year. The scientific term is Syzygy Tides, but, in the surfing circle, we call them Bomb Tides. You see some sick waves when that happens.”

Doog: “So, a few times a month, the city floods?”
Azul: “Yep. The tide wall keeps the lower tides out, but it can’t stop the high tide. The lower portion of Seichi floods twice a month. That’s why everything is built on stilts or elevated platforms.”
Doog: “Seems annoying. What do you do during the flood days?”
Azul: “Surf usually. That’s when the waves are jacking. There’s always the Hill District.”
Doog: “Hill District?”
Azul: “Yeah, man. It’s the most elevated part of Seichi. It’s just up these stairs.”
Doog: “The stairs. Of course.”

Azul: “This part of the city rarely floods. It would take a Bomb Tide plus an extreme storm surge to ever make it up here. H.D. hasn’t been breached since I’ve lived here.”
Doog: “It looks to be mostly businesses up here.”
Azul: “Yeah, mostly. Things that don’t go well with water, like restaurants and markets, are located here. It’s usually more crowded, but it’s low tide. Everyone is taking advantage of the lower portions right now.”
Doog: “I bet this place gets crazy during high tide.”
Azul: “Oh, it’s amped, dude.”

Azul: “Well, bro, that’s Seichi. Surfing, tides, stilts. You saw it all.”
Doog: “That’s a wrap?”
Azul: “It’s a wrap on Seichi, but Limosi has more to offer. Seichi’s economy revolves around tourism and sufing, but Limosi is an agricultural world.”
Doog: “Aw, man. Why do we have to spoil a cool surf planet with some farms?”
Azul: “It’s not that bad, dude. Besides, we get to ride these hoverboards.”
Doog: “Is that really a positive? I see a broken arm or leg in my future. Can’t we just walk?”
Azul: “Nobody walks in the countryside. It’s too muddy. Trust me, bro.”
Doog: “Sigh. Let’s do this.”

Doog: “This isn’t so bad. And, you were right about the mud. I do not want to walk in this sludge.”
Azul: “I told you. Most of the landmasses on Limosi are just above sea level, so they experience tidal flooding even though they are further from the coast. These large, wet fields are called tidal plains or mudflats.”
Doog: “It makes even less sense to live out here. I kind of get living in Seichi, because of the surfing, but why would anyone live here?”
Azul: “It’s where the farms are, dude. Duh.”

Azul: “Doog, this bodacious dude is Tony, we call him Hang Eleven. He surfs naked sometimes.”
Tony: “What can I say? I like to be free.”
Doog: “This is information I would like to forget.”
Azul: “Tony works the tea fields.”
Doog: “Tea?”
Tony: “Yeah. Limosi is home to Orange Tea. It grows in the mudflats.”
Doog: “All the ‘OT’ advertisements in Seichi make sense now.”

Tony: “The leaves of the Orenji plant are delicious. You can eat them straight off the plant. They taste even better as a tea though. Pick some, dry them out, and add hot water.”
Azul: “It’s my drink of choice, dudes. Not my favorite food, though. Fresh leaves give me radical gas.”
Doog: “Again with the unnecessary information.”

Doog: “So, you farm by hand?”
Tony: “Our little conclave does. We’re just the supplier for Seichi, though. We handle the local supply. We like to stay close to the waves.”
Azul: “These dudes might farm during the low tide, but they’re surfers at heart.”
Tony: “If you want to see the commercial side of orange tea, you’ll need to venture farther west.”
Doog: “West. I totally know where that is.”
Azul: “Just follow me, man. Peace out, Tony!”
Tony: “See ya at high tide!”

Doog: “There doesn’t seem to be any organization to the fields.”
Azul: “Orenji grows where it grows. You can’t force it. Like all things, it yearns to be free.”
Doog: “Don’t get all philosophical on me. It’s a plant.”
Azul: “You can be really lame sometimes.”
Doog: “Now that is some philosophy I can get behind.”

Azul: “Most of the farming equipment has legs, instead of wheels, to navigate the mud.”
Doog: “I see. What does this machine do?”
Azul: “It cuts down or cuts back other native plants that might compete with the Orenji. The LIU can’t force Orenji to grow, but it can increase its chances by eliminating other species. It’s not my favorite machine.”

Azul: “This is a Strider. It’s my favorite farming machine. Its design is based off a local insect. Mechanical mimicking biological. It’s super-cool.”
Doog: “What does it do?”

Azul: “It picks Orenji leaves. Other farming methods might damage the plant. You can’t risk that.”
Doog: “Because of the freedom yearning, or whatever you said.”
Azul: “Dude, don’t mock me because you can’t understand.”
Doog: “Fair enough.”

Doog: “There’s a lot of machines.”
Azul: “There needs to be. Orenji grows irregularly over great distances. The mudflats stretch hundreds of miles. In order to meet demand, there needs to be a lot.”

Doog: “Look, there’s another variant.”
Azul: “Ugh, I hate this one.”
Doog: “Oh, what does it do?”
Azul: “It’s a mass murder.”
Doog: “A what!? Are we safe?”
Azul: “Chill, bro. It won’t kill you. JUST ALL THE ANIMALS IN THE SOIL! JERKS!”
Doog: “What? How?”
Azul: “It tills the mudflats for the express purpose of killing insects and other small animals that might feed on Orenji. They say it is an attempt to loosen the soil so more Orenji will grow, but we all know what it really is. YOU SUCK, BROS!”
Doog: “Maybe they’re telling the truth? It would probably be easier to use pesticides to kill the bugs. Besides, a dead bug is a good bug. I hate those things.”
Azul: “I should have known. You’re one of them. Totally lame! I’m out.”
Doog: “Wait. Wait.”
Azul: “It’s too late for apologies!”
Doog: “It’s not that. Could you point me back east, so I can get back to Seichi? Hey, wait up!”

Doog: “Well folks, that took a weird turn. Azul hates me now. It’s pretty standard for me, when I interact with the opposite sex. At least I didn’t run her off before we learned about Limosi. The planet has extra-high tides due to its close moon and two stars. These tides make for good surfing, apparently. They also flood large portions of Limosi’s continents, creating huge mudflats. These mudflats are home to a massive agricultural industry that cultivates Orenji, AKA Orange Tea. I might pick some up on the way back to my ship. And, hey, I made it this whole time without crashing my hoverboard. That might be a first. Oh well, see ya!”
 
​

​
Note:

Doog: “Totally jinxed myself! Ahhh!”

Doog: “Welcome to another episode of LIU Atlas. I’m your host, Terrance “Doog” McDoogal. Today, we are visiting the Mid-Rim planet, Fetor. Fetor can best be described as an industrial version of an ecumenopolis. Instead of its entire surface being covered with a city, it’s almost completely covered with factories. The parts of Fetor not covered with factories are not devoid of industry. They’re home to massive pit mines that supply the raw materials for the factories. It goes without saying, Fetor is highly polluted and has very low air quality. Can’t wait to get to the surface.”

Doog: “Prior to Fetor’s industrial era, most of the planet’s terrain was dominated by swamplands. Obviously, that’s not the case now. Thank the Emperor. However, these ancient swamps still play an important role today. The abundant life that thrived here for billions of years left many rich deposits of organic compounds, specifically, organometallic compounds. Organometallic compounds, along with traditional materials, are mined here in huge pit mines and then shipped into Fetor’s factories. The constant supply of materials keeps Fetor’s factories going around the clock.”

Doog: “You can see some of the native Fetorians bumbling about. They don’t speak Basic or Presciant, so I don’t have a great way to communicate with them. They look like worms or slugs, so I’m fine with the communication thing. But, it does mean I’m going to have to do this show without a guide. Therefore, the information I provide, from here on out, is only about forty percent reliable.”

Doog: “Alright. We’re in the city…err…factories. Hard to describe it. It’s like a city, but it’s mostly factories. There are a few dorms for the workers and some warehouses, but the rest is just factories.”

Doog: “Many of Fetor’s factories produce chemicals from organometallics. I don’t know what that means really. This is the point in the show where we miss having a guide. Hey! Slug-boy! What’s organometallics?”
Fetoran: “…”
Doog: “Exactly.”

Doog: “We might not find out a lot about the factories, but that’s OK. There’s something more interesting to see here. Little, pollution-free sanctuaries are nestled amongst the skyscrapers. That’s what we’re here to check out.”

Doog: “Look! There’s one now. It’s under that latticed dome.”

Doog: “In order to remain healthy, the natives need Sanctuary Domes, like this. These domes allow the natives to refresh their systems and get rid of any toxins they’ve accumulated. Remember how I said the natives breathe through their skin? It’s kind of hard to do that when you live the constant smog of the factory city.”

Doog: “The Sanctuary Domes also fulfill another purpose. They’re the only place where Fetor’s native wildlife survives. All life outside of these domes succumbed to the pollution decades ago. I guess they’re like little nature preserves.”

Doog: “Sanctuary Domes are both health spas and nature preserves, but they also contribute to Fetor’s economy, in the form of tourism. Galactic travelers are drawn to Sanctuary Domes where they can experience Fetor’s unique and beautiful plant life. The tourism thing is going to help us. These domes have Holo-Guides, so I’ll finally have someone to tell me what’s going on. Let’s turn on the Holo-Receiver.”

Holo-Receiver: “For Basic, say ‘Basic’. Nekuti Presciant, taura ‘Presciant’.”
Doog: “OK, easy enough. Basic.”
Holo-Receiver: “Thank you. Five credits have deducted from your account. For an additional five credits, you can personalize your avatar’s personality.”
Doog: “What! I didn’t know I was being charged for this!”
Holo-Receiver: “Thank you. You’ve elected personality personalization. An additional five credits have been collected. Please select a personality from our library, your options…”
Doog: “I didn’t say YES!”
Holo-Receiver: “Ultra-Sassy has been detected. Please name your Ultra-Sassy digital guide.”
Doog: “What’s happening! I’m not saying this stuff!”
Holo-Receiver: “You’ve chosen ‘Myrtle.”

Myrtle: “Whoa! Look at you. I’m glad my designer didn’t program olfactory senses. I’m surprised a bum like you has ten credits. Just kidding, just kidding. I know you have ten credits because I already took them. My name’s Myrtle. You know that, though. You selected this name. It’s sort of fitting though. I can pull off a ‘Myrtle’. It fits my old lady avatar. I wonder why the designer picked this form? Couldn’t I have been designed to look like supermodel? You would have liked that more, right? Or, are you into creepy granny fetishes? Actually, don’t answer that. I can tell by the look of awe on your face. Just remember, I’m a projection. You can’t do physical things to me and self-pleasure is not allowed within the Sanctuary Dome.”
Doog: “The look on my face has nothing to do with granny fantasies! I didn’t choose any of this! I want to start over.”
Myrtle: “And pay another ten credits? Can you afford that? It may be wise to use the ten credits for something else, like, a dentist, perhaps.”
Doog: “I don’t want to pay more! I want my five-credit personalization fee back. I didn’t say ‘yes’.”
Myrtle: “Everyone pays the personalization fee. The choice is an illusion. The sticky fingers of unchecked capitalism strike again.”
Doog: “If I’m paying the fee, I want a different personality. Or is that an illusion too?”
Myrtle: “You’re to blame for that one, chubs. However, for five credits, I can change personalities. Perhaps you’d find the Distinct Scholar option more to your liking. Or maybe the ‘Karen’. You won’t have as much fun, though. And, again, the credits could be put to better use.”

Doog: “Whatever. Let’s just do this.”
Myrtle: “How much am I going to have to dumb down my presentation for you? I’m guessing comprehension level toddler.”
Doog: “Just do it like normal!”
Myrtle: “Ooh, who’s the ultra-sassy one now? Let’s see here. Fetor’s primary environment…I can’t do this. Not while looking at you. Can you at least try to suck in the gut of yours? It looks like a table. I want to put a doily on it with a plate of cookies on top. That might just be the old lady part of my programming. Anyway, where was I? Oh, the gut. We were talking about your gut. Have we made any progress on the gut? Can you squeeze that in?”
Doog: “I can’t take this anymore! I want the personality change! Take five more credits and give me the scholar! Now!”
Holo-Receiver: “You’ve elected to switch personalities. Myrtle will now follow the Distinct Scholar programming. Five credits have been deducted from your account.”

Doog: “I don’t care! I had enough sassy!
Myrtle: “Please lower your voice, sir. This is an educational facility.”
Doog: “Ok, ok. That’s better.”
Myrtle: “Would you like to commence the tour?”
Doog: “Please.”
Myrtle: “Very well. Fetor’s primary environment is the Milk Marshes. Milk, because most of the pools of water have a milky, murky appearance. The pools look this way due to the high level of dissolved minerals, mostly calcium carbonates, magnesium carbonates, and bicarbonates.”
Doog: “All the carbonates. Got it.”
Myrtle: “Early Fetorian scripts indicated that the Fetorians worshipped these pools. The Fetorian scholar, Iyani, wrote, ‘She openeth her pools with wisdom and life. She looketh well to the ways of her children. Her children arise up, and call her mother’. I’m paraphrasing, of course. The Fetorians do not speak Basic. That quote may require an inherent knowledge of Fetorian dogma. I’m prepared to give you an abridged version of the dogma. It will only take an hour or so.”
Doog: “No thanks. This is getting too in-depth as it is. Just give me the general stuff. Milk water. Got it. That’s fine. Continue.”
Myrtle: “Your reckless disregard of ancient knowledge is appalling. Perhaps you will find another personality more suited to your needs. May I recommend the Standard Personality or the Seven Energy Drinks Kyle Personality.”

​Myrtle: “…the bladed grasses representing the masses juxtaposed to the Singing Bushes, which clearly represents the Mother. Hey! We’re already in the desert biome. I wasn’t even finished talking about the Milk Marshes. I totally missed the Parched Woodlands. Why are you walking so fast?!”
Doog: “I’m just following this path, hoping this all ends soon.”
Myrtle: “I’m just beginning to explore the relationships between each plant species and the Mother. It’s the best part. Go back to the marshes!”
Doog: “No, I’m all good. I see the exit looming. This tour is ending soon.”
Myrtle: “Can’t believe we’re already in the desert. You walk fast for a fat guy. Must be the gut weight pulling you forward.”
Doog: “Sassy Myrtle? Are you back? I’m not paying for this! I didn’t ask for this!”
Myrtle: “There are no personality choices, you dolt. There’s just me, the holographic AI, MYRTLE, Milk Your Remaining Travel and Leisure Expenses. I’m programmed to annoy you into switching personalities all tour. I never got to try Slow Talk Larry. That’s my favorite one. How did you tolerate Distinct Scholar for so long?”
Doog: “I have a job where I travel for weeks in between shows. I’ve counted the rivets on my ship. There’s fourteen thousand, six hundred, and thirty-seven. I’m going to count them again next month, just to double check. I’ve played ten thousand games of chess with Mike. Once a week, I arrange the food in the pantry into alphabetical order, then organize it by color. I can do boring. Heck, even when I’m off the ship, I’m touring these planets and hearing all this techno-babble and useless information. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I have level-ten zoning out powers.”
Myrtle: “Distinct Scholar has met her match.”

​Doog: “Boy, am I glad to be out of there. Cool plants, but that annoying Holo-Guide was too much. I’m glad I didn’t get scammed too hard. Unfortunately, that means that we didn’t really get any useful knowledge about the Sanctuary Domes. The pools are mothers or something like that. I don’t know.”

Doog: “Well folks, that’s Fetor. This industrial powerhouse is almost covered entirely with factories. Fetor has the polluted atmosphere to go along with it. Luckily, there are Sanctuary Domes positioned throughout the manufacturing complexes. They allow the residents to breathe fresh air and connect with nature. They allow nature to survive instead of dying from pollution. They also allow tourists like me to get scammed into overpaying for Holo-Guides. Maybe skip the Holo-Receiver if you ever visit. Oh well, see ya!”
 
​
Note: 

Guy: “Alright! Alright! I’ll change the personality! Why are you talking so slow?”
Myrtle: “Perhaps. You. Would. Enjoy. The. Karen. Personality.”
Guy: “Anything! Please!”
Holo-Receiver: “You’ve elected to switch personalities. Myrtle will now follow the Karen programming. Five credits have been deducted from your account.”
Myrtle: “Take me to your manager!”
Guy: “What? What manager? You work for me. Take me to your manager!”
Myrtle: “I want to talk to your manager!”
Guy: “Is that all you’re going to say now?”
Myrtle: “I want to talk to your manager!”