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Never spaghetti; Boston strong
9 mos ago
The last post below me is a lie
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10 mos ago
THE SACRIFICE IS COMPLETE. THE BOILERMEN HAVE FRESH SOULS. THEY CAN DO SHIFT CHANGES.
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11 mos ago
Was that supposed to be an anime reference
11 mos ago
I live in America, but the m, e, r , i, c are silent
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Bio
Harry Potter is not a world view, read another book or I will piss on the moon with my super laser piss.
Most Recent Posts
No! It's a ploy by Big Water in order to create the artificial conditions by which they can simply order the consumer to buy more water and drive up their profits! It's true because Comrade Rush Limbaugh of the American Liberation Army of Armchairs said so!
i maek post
Ferran stepped out into the unknown. As the dropship's engines roared behind him he knew that his connection to the safety of humanity was setting off back into orbit, to reconnect with the freighter that had brought them here, and he specifically. He had no specific destination in mind, really no place he could imagine to be on this planet. It was hardly the first alien world he had stepped foot onto as a surveyor, he had plenty of experience in that regard. And more than before he had the pack and equipment to prove his survival on him. All his possessions were that which could fit on his back, or in the back of a all terrain transport vehicle some several model years removed from the current and newest possible vehicle on the market; but it had come cheap and cheap was exactly what he needed as the drop ship lifted up over his head and slowly lifted up above the alien landscape to the space ship high above orbit.
In a wide empty plane between towering sandstone mesas, on dry gravel alien earth Ferran Ferraro looked up to watch the faint glimmer of the drop ship as it disappeared above Ember's slowly disappearing atmosphere. As the last link to the rest of humanity he expected to see for a long time he reflected back to why he was here.
_______________________
“There isn't any way to eat alien life-forms.” protested Henri, a tall – no, rather: towering – broad shouldered man with a broad boulder like face and deep gravely voice that warped around his peculiar French accent, “It just wouldn't be healthy let alone delictable. These are organisms that evolved far removed from the biospheres of Earth. Neither us nor them are biologically pre-disposed to consuming each other. Besides: think of the exotic and alien microcosms in their blood and muscle alone, there may very well be parasites and foreign diseases within their blood that could prove more than lethal to a human.”
“Yet, we eat rabbit, despite the possibility of contracting tularemia in the gutting and cleaning of wild rabbit.” Pike announced, waving a strange and patchwork device in his large scarred fists. A smaller man than Henri, he was also sinewy and springy with a wild movement about him. He smiled broad and laughed confidently to himself as Ferran sat by and observed the argument taking place.
“Simply put my friend, the unique microcosms that microbes – alien and terrestrial – inhabit are so biologically different from one another that it is often rare for even uncooked wild game to transfer fatal bacteria from wild host to the hunter. On Earth, the biological differences between man and animal is so great only the most aggressive bacteria or universal of viruses may make the jump. And much of the bacteria life that gives us shit, influenza for instance, is derived directly from animals that we have had long historic contact with spanning longer than three hours. Short periodic contact simply would not give a bacterium time to evolve and embed itself within a new host. So yes: man can consume alien life.”
“But this is within an environment like Earth, where we have evolved and developed our civilization and the ecocommunities between man and beast – wild and tamed – are so intrinsic and fundamental to the existence of society. As such, we better understand this than anything else. To suggest mankind can consume extraterrestrial flesh is not just a dangerous theory, but an apocalyptic hypothesis. Surely you must understand?”
Aboard the space cruiser Le Ile the small crew of some maybe five surveyors coasted through hyperspace en'route from an expedition investigating exoplanets considered suitable for not just human habitation, but available for mining; and most importantly free of any form of life that might be disturbed by a human presence. The outcomes of the mission though was however a significant bust as far as economic potential goes as the survey crew had stumbled upon a planet not only fit for humanity by absolutely teeming with life. And Pike, or Pike North had not just simply suggested that mankind could kill and eat alien flesh, but had done so himself. It was hardly the first time and was simply one of several incidents that continually sparked the same routine debate whenever it happened with the frenchman and commander Henri Duplais and Pike North bickering for hours on the implications of become an invasive hunter to another world. For commander Henri the consequences spanned not just the ecological implications of re-writing another world's biological web and the life-forms' behaviors but the possibility of introducing new contagions to mankind by ingesting them.
“The fundamental building block of life is carbon.” Henri argued, “There is the fundamental molecular platform from whence foreign infection can derive.”
“And the fundamental building block of life is carbon, which is why we can eat it!” North pronounced proudly, his mid western accent roaring out heavy, “But this does not narrow the gap so much that we can contract the new ebola from eating a few blue alien monkeys; no matter how tall”
“You can't be serious, if you insist you're going to someday get yourself killed from a serious infection and no one will be able to help.”
“You'll at least be able to study it when it does.” Pike apathetically dismissed.
Henri rolled his eyes, “That's not to say you're well into violation of UN law.”
“So shoot me!” Pike laughed, “You haven't turned me in yet so I don't imagine you ever will.” There was a brimming confidence in his voice, and it shone as bright as a star in his face. True: no one would likely ever report him for it, the crew had been together for too long and kept itself locked into such a small space that they had learned to tolerate and accept each others idiosyncrasies whether they liked it or not. Between this and battling hazardous wild-life and environments the bond between each of the crew was tight, almost tribal. To the point really that anywhere outside of Earth, Henri's rank as commander was irrelevant, on board Le Ile they were all commander.
“So...” Ferran began, he was the voice of Mediterranean romance and Spanish mysticism. The sort of poetic gospel of the tongue that would have been sung in a Spanish flamenco had it been written in Catalan. While this was true, he didn't look much the part; his hair was long and wirey and the fro twirled about at all matter of directions and with his scraggy wiry beard his tan face was plainly outlined with black hair. But he was also physically fit, as much as anyone else on board with a prominent runner's build. “Do you think they'll go through on the contract if we come back saying we found a planet unfit to mine?”
Henri looked down at him with a distraught muted expression. Their operation was starting to run into the red after a string of bad luck. More and more contractors were refusing to pay out in full for planets with a healthy biome and private surveyors such as themselves were beginning to be locked away more and more for editing their reports and leading adventurists to unsuitable planets. Not only shooting up profits but entangling more and more of the established mining companies in chaotic lawsuits with the UN as their own inspectors arrived after the fact.
Henri was a man who played by the book, always had. Even if he let people like Pike into the company he always delivered the report as he saw the planet. He made no edits. He never sterilized the planet on paper. And as such, he was losing out big. Either the worlds were too barren, too dangerous, or actually had life, a simple microbe the size of a human hair was enough to trigger concern in some department heads of the UN's Office of Extraterrestrial Life, the OEL. The situation on Earth wasn't getting much better either and Henry often confided that he believed some of the company executives may someday assassinate the “Good Commander” for bombing their stock values during one of the greatest energy crunches on Earth since the 21st century.
The topic brought a discomforting silence to the table and the three men sat in subdued silence. “Well, it's been a nice talk.” Pike said, slamming his hand against the table and standing up. Ferran looked after him as he headed to the airlock door, it automatically hissed open as he came within arm's reach of it.
As Pike headed down the corridor hall, Henry was next to leave in a meditative silence. Ferran couldn't blame him, he knew how bad it was. This wasn't a secret between the sparse crew anyways. And with him now alone, all he could do was meditate.
_______________________
Ferran Ferraro leaned over a shallow pool of water in the Ember wasteland's shaded against the alien sun by a pillar of sandstone rising high over head. Behind Ferran was the bulky transport he was driving. It was electrically charged, with a pair of solar cells hanging from the roof like a pair of wings to keep the batteries charged when there was sun, otherwise it was hydrogen ran; and that was provided Ferran could manage to produce pure hydrogen outside of a formal lab.
The Catalonian felt the edges of his face. He had shaven just before he fled Earth so his sharply angled features were plainly visible in the reflection of the shallow pool. His long curly hair was cut back, and was the same texture as black sheep's wool. His eyes shone sharp though, even in the dim light he could make out the soft blue of his iris' in the still and crystal clear puddle.
He turned his head this-way and that as he looked down at the water. Eventually he reached back to the pouch hanging at his side and produced Pike's strange little device. It was home-made, he remembered when Pike was making it, it was actually just after he had signed onto Henry's tiny outfit as a exogeologist, their old had died when his space-suit ruptured on a hostile world and he was quickly overwhelmed by vaporous sulfuric acid.
But he remembered being lectured by Pike and taught what he was doing on those long voyages. Then he was just planning his xenotarian diet experiments, he was more cautious than Henry gave him credit for. As he told Ferran the device – a handheld computer – was configured to scan and display the contents of any alien flora, fauna, or even water he would come across. He could tell what the molecular composition of a piece of meat was, if it contained any possible toxin or contaminant, anything really. By sifting through the data of even the most mundane reading he could come to the conclusion that, “It can be grilled!”
Ferran quickly realized it was merely a specialized scanner. One that worked at an altered frequency but didn't nearly have the penetrating power of industrial survey scanners. But it worked, and it worked wonders. Feeling curious – he was set on water for the time being – he dipped the scanner's long pointed probes into the water and turned it on. The flat holographic screen lit up immediately and soft subtle purring noises sang from the prongs. A progress bar on screen appeared then disappeared as soon as it had come online. It was finished in less than a second. But then: it was only water.
The result it gave Ferran was the typical readout for water. Two-parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. But being untapped and foreign it came with a twist. The small puddle had a sigh gypsum and salt content. In fact it was dangerously high for him to drink, it would take considerable filtering for him to even consider. He surmised it may have just been because it had been sitting there for so long, that rains had broken down and disturbed and suspended minute particles of sand and they remained suspended in the water, and that it in fact had concentrated; perhaps the puddle was a larger pool just months before but had evaporated away to the dry hot air.
He at least decided to put his hypothesis to the test and restarted and thrust the modified scanner into the sand at his heels. He let the device work its magic and it rang a soft note before it turned up what he about suspected: high levels of silicate, high levels of gypsum. He registered the result in his head, and stood up and strolled towards his vehicle.
It was larger enough that it might have perhaps given six people a comfortable ride across rough terrain. It's large thick tires held the frame aloft on rugged, but smooth suspension that kept the entire vehicle from rocking so much as a centimeter in rough terrain. But now all of the back seats housed some mass of equipment or personal effect. He had a rifle, ammunition, a small battery pack, computer equipment, two insulated tents and accompanying sleeping bags with pillows. He had extra clothes and enough medical supplies for the better part of six months if he consistently got hurt. He had preserved and dried rations both canned and air sealed in small baggies. There was table salt, pepper, drinking water for days, and of course: a personal computer tablet with enough reading material for a small library and room yet to spare. There was also the Spanish guitar that leaned against the passenger side seat; he only just barely knew how to play, just competent enough to pluck through some familiar songs.
Having satisfied himself with the pit stop he got back into the off-roader and drove slowly off through the winding canyons of an unexplored ancient seabed.
_______________________
Le Ile came within Earth, and a wash of joy came across Ferran as he lay eyes again on home. Even with the complexities implied in a return from an unprofitable voyage there was a primal desire to see home that numbed all other concern as they came in.
Apart from he, Henry, and Pike there was Murasaki, a small shouldered half Japanese girl and Heinrick, a quiet reserved German. All five of Le Ile's crew were present in the cabin as they coasted in close to Earth. The serenity of seeing home again after any amount of time was like a drug in of itself. There was an anxiety no different than driving up the long driveway after a long trip away as Le Ile made its approach to Orbital Docking Station number 2, New York-Houston-Toronto station. Coming within three miles of the dock Le Ile's autopilot took control and immediately began a flurry of activity in connecting with the docking station's own navigation computer and made a carefully charted course to rendezvous with an open terminal.
For all intents and purposes, the process went perfectly. Le Ile gently dove into the great inner docking shaft and passed over, under and by shimmering multitudes of space craft destined for within and outside of the Sol system. Empty docking shafts stretched out from the distant walls in a series of widely spaced stations and levels. The entire station spun, creating gravity and as Le Ile made it close to the destined terminal its movements began to match that of the station's orbit. In close to an hour they were docked, locked, and the bridge connected.
It was only the first step to home, but it felt as though they were already there as they stepped out into the great hive of Orbital Docking Station 2. All around in the lobby of the third-level inbound terminal station was a buzz. Announcements went out over the station intercoms in several languages to announce the arrivals or pending departures of craft, the schedule of transport to and from Earth. And the news.
The news.
The moment Le Ile's crew heard the differences in the news – its tone, its content, who it was proclaimed by – they heard something was different. And when they stepped onto the mezzanine for the great central lobby and saw the great, new, terrible flags hanging from the outer station wall they realized something was very, very wrong.
Their hearts collectively raced in each of their chests, and they broke from a casual stroll to their destination to a heart racing flight through the sequences of layered stations. Along the way they stopped to gape at the proclamations and propaganda for the Federation of Worlds. To read the electronic broadsides and fliers at every door briefly listing their intentions. Economic growth, social stability, political order, a strong will in government.
To the already terrified Henri, the message didn't need to be any clearer. Those people he was afraid of were in government and he was about to issue a bad report. But a bad report during a time of his own financial weakness. But that also, those worlds he sought to protect would be in danger. They had all read this story before.
“Wait!” Murasaki cried out, “We need to figure out what to do.”
Ferran thought for a second, and quickly agreed with her, “Yes, we have to do something. Can we get a private booth?”
Henri looked at them with a long heavy expression on his face. He came around quickly to them. “Y-yes. Ok.” he agreed, “First place we see, come on.”
“Fuck, I need a drink.” Pike moaned.
In a wide empty plane between towering sandstone mesas, on dry gravel alien earth Ferran Ferraro looked up to watch the faint glimmer of the drop ship as it disappeared above Ember's slowly disappearing atmosphere. As the last link to the rest of humanity he expected to see for a long time he reflected back to why he was here.
_______________________
“There isn't any way to eat alien life-forms.” protested Henri, a tall – no, rather: towering – broad shouldered man with a broad boulder like face and deep gravely voice that warped around his peculiar French accent, “It just wouldn't be healthy let alone delictable. These are organisms that evolved far removed from the biospheres of Earth. Neither us nor them are biologically pre-disposed to consuming each other. Besides: think of the exotic and alien microcosms in their blood and muscle alone, there may very well be parasites and foreign diseases within their blood that could prove more than lethal to a human.”
“Yet, we eat rabbit, despite the possibility of contracting tularemia in the gutting and cleaning of wild rabbit.” Pike announced, waving a strange and patchwork device in his large scarred fists. A smaller man than Henri, he was also sinewy and springy with a wild movement about him. He smiled broad and laughed confidently to himself as Ferran sat by and observed the argument taking place.
“Simply put my friend, the unique microcosms that microbes – alien and terrestrial – inhabit are so biologically different from one another that it is often rare for even uncooked wild game to transfer fatal bacteria from wild host to the hunter. On Earth, the biological differences between man and animal is so great only the most aggressive bacteria or universal of viruses may make the jump. And much of the bacteria life that gives us shit, influenza for instance, is derived directly from animals that we have had long historic contact with spanning longer than three hours. Short periodic contact simply would not give a bacterium time to evolve and embed itself within a new host. So yes: man can consume alien life.”
“But this is within an environment like Earth, where we have evolved and developed our civilization and the ecocommunities between man and beast – wild and tamed – are so intrinsic and fundamental to the existence of society. As such, we better understand this than anything else. To suggest mankind can consume extraterrestrial flesh is not just a dangerous theory, but an apocalyptic hypothesis. Surely you must understand?”
Aboard the space cruiser Le Ile the small crew of some maybe five surveyors coasted through hyperspace en'route from an expedition investigating exoplanets considered suitable for not just human habitation, but available for mining; and most importantly free of any form of life that might be disturbed by a human presence. The outcomes of the mission though was however a significant bust as far as economic potential goes as the survey crew had stumbled upon a planet not only fit for humanity by absolutely teeming with life. And Pike, or Pike North had not just simply suggested that mankind could kill and eat alien flesh, but had done so himself. It was hardly the first time and was simply one of several incidents that continually sparked the same routine debate whenever it happened with the frenchman and commander Henri Duplais and Pike North bickering for hours on the implications of become an invasive hunter to another world. For commander Henri the consequences spanned not just the ecological implications of re-writing another world's biological web and the life-forms' behaviors but the possibility of introducing new contagions to mankind by ingesting them.
“The fundamental building block of life is carbon.” Henri argued, “There is the fundamental molecular platform from whence foreign infection can derive.”
“And the fundamental building block of life is carbon, which is why we can eat it!” North pronounced proudly, his mid western accent roaring out heavy, “But this does not narrow the gap so much that we can contract the new ebola from eating a few blue alien monkeys; no matter how tall”
“You can't be serious, if you insist you're going to someday get yourself killed from a serious infection and no one will be able to help.”
“You'll at least be able to study it when it does.” Pike apathetically dismissed.
Henri rolled his eyes, “That's not to say you're well into violation of UN law.”
“So shoot me!” Pike laughed, “You haven't turned me in yet so I don't imagine you ever will.” There was a brimming confidence in his voice, and it shone as bright as a star in his face. True: no one would likely ever report him for it, the crew had been together for too long and kept itself locked into such a small space that they had learned to tolerate and accept each others idiosyncrasies whether they liked it or not. Between this and battling hazardous wild-life and environments the bond between each of the crew was tight, almost tribal. To the point really that anywhere outside of Earth, Henri's rank as commander was irrelevant, on board Le Ile they were all commander.
“So...” Ferran began, he was the voice of Mediterranean romance and Spanish mysticism. The sort of poetic gospel of the tongue that would have been sung in a Spanish flamenco had it been written in Catalan. While this was true, he didn't look much the part; his hair was long and wirey and the fro twirled about at all matter of directions and with his scraggy wiry beard his tan face was plainly outlined with black hair. But he was also physically fit, as much as anyone else on board with a prominent runner's build. “Do you think they'll go through on the contract if we come back saying we found a planet unfit to mine?”
Henri looked down at him with a distraught muted expression. Their operation was starting to run into the red after a string of bad luck. More and more contractors were refusing to pay out in full for planets with a healthy biome and private surveyors such as themselves were beginning to be locked away more and more for editing their reports and leading adventurists to unsuitable planets. Not only shooting up profits but entangling more and more of the established mining companies in chaotic lawsuits with the UN as their own inspectors arrived after the fact.
Henri was a man who played by the book, always had. Even if he let people like Pike into the company he always delivered the report as he saw the planet. He made no edits. He never sterilized the planet on paper. And as such, he was losing out big. Either the worlds were too barren, too dangerous, or actually had life, a simple microbe the size of a human hair was enough to trigger concern in some department heads of the UN's Office of Extraterrestrial Life, the OEL. The situation on Earth wasn't getting much better either and Henry often confided that he believed some of the company executives may someday assassinate the “Good Commander” for bombing their stock values during one of the greatest energy crunches on Earth since the 21st century.
The topic brought a discomforting silence to the table and the three men sat in subdued silence. “Well, it's been a nice talk.” Pike said, slamming his hand against the table and standing up. Ferran looked after him as he headed to the airlock door, it automatically hissed open as he came within arm's reach of it.
As Pike headed down the corridor hall, Henry was next to leave in a meditative silence. Ferran couldn't blame him, he knew how bad it was. This wasn't a secret between the sparse crew anyways. And with him now alone, all he could do was meditate.
_______________________
Ferran Ferraro leaned over a shallow pool of water in the Ember wasteland's shaded against the alien sun by a pillar of sandstone rising high over head. Behind Ferran was the bulky transport he was driving. It was electrically charged, with a pair of solar cells hanging from the roof like a pair of wings to keep the batteries charged when there was sun, otherwise it was hydrogen ran; and that was provided Ferran could manage to produce pure hydrogen outside of a formal lab.
The Catalonian felt the edges of his face. He had shaven just before he fled Earth so his sharply angled features were plainly visible in the reflection of the shallow pool. His long curly hair was cut back, and was the same texture as black sheep's wool. His eyes shone sharp though, even in the dim light he could make out the soft blue of his iris' in the still and crystal clear puddle.
He turned his head this-way and that as he looked down at the water. Eventually he reached back to the pouch hanging at his side and produced Pike's strange little device. It was home-made, he remembered when Pike was making it, it was actually just after he had signed onto Henry's tiny outfit as a exogeologist, their old had died when his space-suit ruptured on a hostile world and he was quickly overwhelmed by vaporous sulfuric acid.
But he remembered being lectured by Pike and taught what he was doing on those long voyages. Then he was just planning his xenotarian diet experiments, he was more cautious than Henry gave him credit for. As he told Ferran the device – a handheld computer – was configured to scan and display the contents of any alien flora, fauna, or even water he would come across. He could tell what the molecular composition of a piece of meat was, if it contained any possible toxin or contaminant, anything really. By sifting through the data of even the most mundane reading he could come to the conclusion that, “It can be grilled!”
Ferran quickly realized it was merely a specialized scanner. One that worked at an altered frequency but didn't nearly have the penetrating power of industrial survey scanners. But it worked, and it worked wonders. Feeling curious – he was set on water for the time being – he dipped the scanner's long pointed probes into the water and turned it on. The flat holographic screen lit up immediately and soft subtle purring noises sang from the prongs. A progress bar on screen appeared then disappeared as soon as it had come online. It was finished in less than a second. But then: it was only water.
The result it gave Ferran was the typical readout for water. Two-parts hydrogen, one part oxygen. But being untapped and foreign it came with a twist. The small puddle had a sigh gypsum and salt content. In fact it was dangerously high for him to drink, it would take considerable filtering for him to even consider. He surmised it may have just been because it had been sitting there for so long, that rains had broken down and disturbed and suspended minute particles of sand and they remained suspended in the water, and that it in fact had concentrated; perhaps the puddle was a larger pool just months before but had evaporated away to the dry hot air.
He at least decided to put his hypothesis to the test and restarted and thrust the modified scanner into the sand at his heels. He let the device work its magic and it rang a soft note before it turned up what he about suspected: high levels of silicate, high levels of gypsum. He registered the result in his head, and stood up and strolled towards his vehicle.
It was larger enough that it might have perhaps given six people a comfortable ride across rough terrain. It's large thick tires held the frame aloft on rugged, but smooth suspension that kept the entire vehicle from rocking so much as a centimeter in rough terrain. But now all of the back seats housed some mass of equipment or personal effect. He had a rifle, ammunition, a small battery pack, computer equipment, two insulated tents and accompanying sleeping bags with pillows. He had extra clothes and enough medical supplies for the better part of six months if he consistently got hurt. He had preserved and dried rations both canned and air sealed in small baggies. There was table salt, pepper, drinking water for days, and of course: a personal computer tablet with enough reading material for a small library and room yet to spare. There was also the Spanish guitar that leaned against the passenger side seat; he only just barely knew how to play, just competent enough to pluck through some familiar songs.
Having satisfied himself with the pit stop he got back into the off-roader and drove slowly off through the winding canyons of an unexplored ancient seabed.
_______________________
Le Ile came within Earth, and a wash of joy came across Ferran as he lay eyes again on home. Even with the complexities implied in a return from an unprofitable voyage there was a primal desire to see home that numbed all other concern as they came in.
Apart from he, Henry, and Pike there was Murasaki, a small shouldered half Japanese girl and Heinrick, a quiet reserved German. All five of Le Ile's crew were present in the cabin as they coasted in close to Earth. The serenity of seeing home again after any amount of time was like a drug in of itself. There was an anxiety no different than driving up the long driveway after a long trip away as Le Ile made its approach to Orbital Docking Station number 2, New York-Houston-Toronto station. Coming within three miles of the dock Le Ile's autopilot took control and immediately began a flurry of activity in connecting with the docking station's own navigation computer and made a carefully charted course to rendezvous with an open terminal.
For all intents and purposes, the process went perfectly. Le Ile gently dove into the great inner docking shaft and passed over, under and by shimmering multitudes of space craft destined for within and outside of the Sol system. Empty docking shafts stretched out from the distant walls in a series of widely spaced stations and levels. The entire station spun, creating gravity and as Le Ile made it close to the destined terminal its movements began to match that of the station's orbit. In close to an hour they were docked, locked, and the bridge connected.
It was only the first step to home, but it felt as though they were already there as they stepped out into the great hive of Orbital Docking Station 2. All around in the lobby of the third-level inbound terminal station was a buzz. Announcements went out over the station intercoms in several languages to announce the arrivals or pending departures of craft, the schedule of transport to and from Earth. And the news.
The news.
The moment Le Ile's crew heard the differences in the news – its tone, its content, who it was proclaimed by – they heard something was different. And when they stepped onto the mezzanine for the great central lobby and saw the great, new, terrible flags hanging from the outer station wall they realized something was very, very wrong.
Their hearts collectively raced in each of their chests, and they broke from a casual stroll to their destination to a heart racing flight through the sequences of layered stations. Along the way they stopped to gape at the proclamations and propaganda for the Federation of Worlds. To read the electronic broadsides and fliers at every door briefly listing their intentions. Economic growth, social stability, political order, a strong will in government.
To the already terrified Henri, the message didn't need to be any clearer. Those people he was afraid of were in government and he was about to issue a bad report. But a bad report during a time of his own financial weakness. But that also, those worlds he sought to protect would be in danger. They had all read this story before.
“Wait!” Murasaki cried out, “We need to figure out what to do.”
Ferran thought for a second, and quickly agreed with her, “Yes, we have to do something. Can we get a private booth?”
Henri looked at them with a long heavy expression on his face. He came around quickly to them. “Y-yes. Ok.” he agreed, “First place we see, come on.”
“Fuck, I need a drink.” Pike moaned.
@ClocktowerEchos, just waiting on you.
At this point I'd say just go and write up a post without him.
Individual name:
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
I'mma just repasta this here for posterity, still need to figure out where I'll be starting.
Individual name:
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
<Fuck I dunno I'll wait and see who else makes an app>
Individual name:
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
<Fuck I dunno I'll wait and see who else makes an app>
Well it was Robert Ford
That dirty little coward
I wonder now how he feels
For he ate of Jesse's bread
And he slept in Jesse's bed
And he laid poor Jesse in his grave
Well Jesse had a wife
To mourn for his life
Three children now
They were brave
Well that dirty little coward
That shot Mr. Howard
He laid poor Jesse in his grave
Individual name:
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
<Fuck I dunno I'll wait and see who else makes an app>
Ferran Ferraro
Age:
36
Biography:
Born in Barcelona, Ferraro grew up in a middle-income family. He attended university at the age of twenty-after a stint of traveling Earth's home solar system ostensibly to study alien geography. A prolific reader, Ferraro consumed books without hesitation and delved into a considerable many topics outside of his studies to become in the end an exoplanet surveyor. Between his official and unofficial studies, Ferraro practiced boxing and enjoyed morning runs.
While during his travel and travel years he met many men and women he never settled down to marry, and graduated as and continued to live as a bachelor when he walked out diploma in hand and set his sights for the stars. He signed on to a small exploration company to scour the galaxy for the fuel necessary to run and operate the Annihilation engines which had become so ubiquitous and standard issue in human space flight, he knew it was a lucrative trade and he hoped to strike it rich partnering up with like-minded individuals to stake claims across the stars.
Ferraro was in the stars when the coup took place and he and his group returned to Earth. On their arrival many of Ferraro's companions were arrested for political suspicions and he was just barely able to escape the military police drag net in the moments after the coup. Still, terrified to remain on Earth and in fear for his own life Ferraro again took to the stars alone to find safety – and work – on the exoplanet SEVI-T3.
Starting location:
<Fuck I dunno I'll wait and see who else makes an app>
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