Written August 27th, 2026, by MT Pearson.
THIS HISTORICAL MANUSCRIPT IS AVAILABLE TO BE READ IN THE TONGUES AND DIALECTS LOCAL TO ALL THE MEMBERS OF THE GRAND COUNCIL OF UNITED GALAXIES! COURTESY OF THE COUNTLESS HOURS OF TRANSLATION WORK PROVIDED US BY THE OOOO’TE’OO PEOPLES OF CS-7352-OO.
I.
The stars had been bright and beautiful in their countless constellation forms when the Grand Council of the Federation of United Galaxies had called its session. Hot on the topics of the day: Planet Earth.
Loud over the sounding audience, a Klargan voice boomed. “Proud and noble denizens of our most glorious Federation of United Galaxies! We gather here today in one another’s most esteemed company with a discovery of utmost importance!!!”
The voice belonged to none other than G’no’xingo, the proud leader of the Klargans from star system CS-1647-KLG, a very nice place to visit either within the convergence of the spectral spheres every 20 light-clicks, or on your average spring. Compared to earth, the spectral spheres really knew how to get a move on.
“With the development finally complete on our Intergalactic Visor Array at the edge of our home galaxy, proud and noble M’lo’xin’bidi’bring’nabien, or as you all may know it, CS-1647-KLG by lingua franca of our magnificent register, we have been able to gaze deeper, deeper, and yet deeper into the farthest, hitherto-unknown expanses of star systems previously dreamed impossible to reach.”
A resounding applause for the noble Klargan and his message touched every corner of the vast interstellar amphitheater. This had been a large and vast project between a nigh-uncountable number of peoples from vast reaches of the United Galaxies. To see it come to some sort of fruition meant the hopes and dreams behind countless hours of back-breaking toil and sacrifice be made manifest.
G’no waited for the applause to die down, raising eighteen fingers in groups of two on all six arms in efforts to quell it sooner. At a moderate success, it let its voice boom once more.
“However… many of our most recent hyper-timed searches have yielded little… it appears that much of The Anatrachian Zone was as many of us feared… desolate and lifeless.”
Silence took the amphitheater. Tension followed. The smoke-and-spirits were especially susceptible to this, barely able to contain their shuddering at the sheer feelings of tightness and anticipation beamed out from countless species, all in their respectable and glorious seats within the council.
G’no cut through the silence as though with a titanic saber: “HOWEVER! I am GREATLY ESTEEMED to report, that not 15 light snaps ago, our joint research teams have made a discovery! Within one unsuspecting corner of this thought-to-be desolate and lifeless zone, we have discovered… A NEW SPECIES OF LIFE!!”
The cheers and applause came back twice as strong as before. Smoke-and-spirits flamed to illuminate all around them. Mating calls arose from the Plithizons, as was their customary celebratory language in an odd overlap that occasionally led to a few awkward scenarios. Skeletal tentacles rose and shot neon-green bioelectricity arcing into the air.
After some time, G’no offered a final part of this triumphant message.
“We have already enacted plans for reconnaissance missions to this lonely little sphere! Our joint researchers are preparing to launch a long-distance sight-and-sound drone to our new discovery, and upon first contact and observation, it is here, within our Grand Council, that we shall be witness to the first species to be discovered in veritable eons!!!”
As a matter of fact, the drone was well on its way already. Entering light-bouncing pattern, it was picking up speed as what could only be perceived as a quickening line of thin light, rapidly approaching a velocity no longer perceptible.
And somewhere, some infinite distance away…
II.
Brukko found egress from his cave, stretching and preparing for the long day ahead.
Brikko called to him. “UGH NU HUNH HU GUHG GHU HUH!!”
“BRUG HUN BUNGURUH” he called back, turning around as his lover ran up and gave him a resounding smack to the seat of his sheepskin hide.
In sweet reply, he gently grasped the matted, tangled mess of hair atop her head and gave her a kiss, then turned and shuffled off for the stone pile by the water.
Lately, Brukko’s sheep had been wandering off a little too often for his liking. He decided it was time to enclose them a little more properly, and that meant some serious stone-heaving in the plans for today.
But on the way over, he heard a sound unfathomable to him that slowly shifted into the blowing of a mighty gust of wind.
He held his arm in front of his face and brought one leg back, bracing against the sudden and intense wind. How strange! It had been such a nice, sunny, clear day!
When it subsided, Brukko lowered his arm and found his head naturally tilting upwards, alerted by the mysterious sound that summoned this terrific gust. And there in the sky, growing somewhat larger, was a small dot, black against the clear sky. He looked at it for a time, scratching his head, then his ass, then his head, then his ass once more.
Finally, he mused to himself. “Ughunu bubnugh…”
Oh well! Back to work! He soldiered on to the creek.
From up in midair, the drone descended. It scanned the surroundings with abandon. There, right there, nearly directly below, was an organism! It appeared to be growing some strange patches of gristly fur around its midsection, while keeping limbs and extremities hairy, but by no means fully covered.
The drone moved closer. It appeared the organism was walking a path… but to where? All to do was follow at this point.
And follow it did, until the organism ceased moving. Before it was a series of chunks of raw planetary material with a wide-flowing stream of liquid moving across the ground nearby. It was before a substantial chunk of material that the organism stood now. The drone inched ever closer, careful not to disturb the creature.
Brukko had found it. The cornerstone of his soon-to-be immaculate sheep pen. He bent down and began to lift.
The drone, nearing as well as it could without giving itself away, fixed full focus on the strange creature… could this be intelligence? A developmental practice? Some sort of ritual???
Halfway to standing position, Brukko’s back had had enough. A crack, and then a cry, echoed into the creek around him. “URRRGHH,” he exclaimed, chunk of stone crashing to the ground.
The drone had caught it. A perfect audible sample of the language of these creatures… it was back to the Visor Station with this, as soon as possible! Especially since an internal alarm was sounding, informing the drone that its energy was now dwindling and that it had to return to base right away.
Brukko did not hear the whoosh nor the zip of the drone as it took off into the atmosphere. He was in too much pain.
III.
The council was dead silent as the video began playing to countless watching beings.
CRACK! “URRRGHH!”
The slam of the stone.
The sound of an alarm. That was just the drone, of course.
A *whoosh* to the sky, a zip to the stars, and the video was done.
They sat together in profound puzzlement. What could it mean? So short, so simple, so… vague...
It could mean a thousand things, it could mean none, it could mean… anything. This had turned into quite the extraordinary find, and not a single council member was anything short of thrilled to have experienced its maiden playback.
Once the show had ended, murmurs rose. Species one and all turned to each other and began to extrapolate on the countless possible meanings of what they had all witnessed that very solar cycle.
It was some time before anyone spoke above those murmurs. In some time, a familiar voice slowly rose.
“Honorable members of the Council, I do believe I speak for all when I decree that what we have witnessed here together today is truly a mystery, wrapped in an enigma, crouching into an unknowable shroud… we must take some time to meditate on this.”
G’no was truly the voice of reason. It was no surprise that it was chosen as the speaker of the council floor. A wave of contemplative calm washed over the audience.
That day, countless species left the council and shared what they had learned. Countless beings in countless systems of constellations far and wide would return to their peoples, and within their peoples’ discussions, countless theories formed.
Among the most popular was that the creature from the planet so far away in the Anatrachian Zone was performing some sort of mystic and sacred ritual. Of what kind, who could know?
The Plithizons insisted that it must have found a way to mate with the matter of its own world, and were immensely moved at the concept. Many such interactions with stones across many an Arid planet within their system were attempted. The fad gained much traction and even revealed a brand new way of life to some.
The various species of smoke-and-spirit wagered that it had something to do with beaming energy out into the world around the creature. Of this they were somewhat certain.
The KnuckleSlug Folk seemed to believe that it was a matter of biological development, that the crack was clearly a growth pattern and that the creature was like them, consistently breaking, re-growing, and developing new skeletal structure across a lengthy lifetime.
But none of them were totally certain, nor completely convinced of their theories. And soon, the visor station, satisfied with all the introspection the countless bright minds across countless species had offered, had decided to launch another mission.
And away the drone went.
IV.
Alkaios heard his father calling to him from down the mountain, from which point he could currently see all around his beautiful island of Crete. The gorgeous and graceful waves lapping against distant shorelines filled him with a sense of serenity and wonder at his bountiful, prosperous home.
His father’s voice shook him from his spatial awareness. “My son! My son! The goats have broken free once again! Help me to return them to their pen!”
And there went the serenity. This was not good. The last time the goats had gotten free, Alkaios and his father had given them chase until sundown. It was an exhaustive day, and generally bad for the spirit. Demoralizing, in a sense. And after the strain of unloading the cart his brother had brought in, no less…
But there was no way around it. They needed the goats. The goats were their livelihood. And so, Alkaios set off in a sprint and immediately gave chase to the escaped while his father desperately fought back the rest of the herd as they too attempted to join the absconded.
Dead ahead of him was a goat he knew would be easy to catch, but not so easy to return to the pen. This goat was special. She was Dorothea, the largest of the herd, quite an enormous nanny. It was no sooner that he had caught up to her than his arms were around her, despite her struggle to get away and return to the grass that was certainly greener upon yonder hillside.
Were it not for the fluster and flurry of the struggle, he might have heard the zip, the whoosh, the soft hum of the approaching drone behind him, its vision and sound receptors locked on him now.
And what a shocking turn these creatures had made! Now having much less fur than before, perhaps it was not even fur at the midsection, but cloth, cloth accented in brilliant blue, cloth cleanly cut and neatly fashioned over the creature’s fur. But why would it want to cover its fur?
The drone came closer, undetected.
Alkaios gave all he had left. Dorothea’s legs lifted from the ground, thrashing in circular motions.
And the unfortunate timing of these troubles took its painful turn, and with an audible crack, followed by a resounding “UUUGGHH” from Alkaios, Dorothea reunited with the grassy ground and quickly scampered away.
A familiar alarm sounded silently, and the drone was off.
The council watched eagerly at the next observation of the mystical creatures on the lonely planet so far away in the Anatrachian Zone.
Dorothea’s ill-fated ascent, Alkaios’ back giving way, a familiar couple of sounds, and a blast back into the depths of space.
The murmurs were louder now.
This time, T’rtxtondoldtr inflated her three vocal sacs and addressed the chamber in a low, guttural tone. “Why are these viewings always so short? We must not be getting nearly enough information here!!”
A raised contention emerged amongst her fellow council members for a lengthy moment, and G’no, being so closely involved with not only its duties as speaker of the council floor, but also as a lead researcher at the Visor Array, raised a reply.
“Honorable member of the Council T’rtxtodoldtr has raised a good question! The answer to this, of course, is that at such a distance it must travel, and at such speeds, the reconnaissance drone expends a great majority of its energy upon the journey there and return trip alone. The alarm heard in these recordings is a forewarning beacon, letting our little scout know that it is time to begin the trip back, lest it be lost on the way!”
A wave of audible understanding washed over the crowd. T’rtxto let the remaining air out of her sacs and shifted her sixfold gaze to the side, stroking her rubbery chin with a slimy mandible.
“Honorable speaker G’no’xingo, will this capacity be improved in the future?”
G’no brought a pair of fingers to its bald scalp. It hadn’t really considered that. It wondered if anyone at the Visor Array had.
“Erm, uh, yes! Soon,” it offered.
T’rtxto laid her mandible once more across her lap, and with a look of consternation actively in abatement, she gave a slow nod. Satisfaction at the answer was shared by many of her fellow council members.
And so the story of the vision was once again spread far and wide between all the peoples of the Federation.
The Stone-Titans of Ingilo had taken an alternate thought process, instead going to paint intricate details around their waistlines with the help of the Pebblar Scavengers they so often shared a peaceable existence with. It caught on quick amongst their peoples, and soon spread to other constellation systems in kind. They didn’t think too much about what it meant, either in the vision from a land so far away, or as it pertained to their current fashion ideals.
The Plithizons, however, were impressed. Stunned, even, at the incredible mating fortitude of this strange species. Not only to mate with the very material on which they existed, but the other species of their green little world as well! Fantasies aplenty spun through the imaginations of their mating minds as the entirety of the species went into population frenzy for the twelfth time that solar cycle.
It had more vigor and life than the eleventh. This time, outfits of white cloth drapery (or as close as they could have manufactured to it) and large hide canvasses were all the rage. The Guillegai Traders made a fortune stitching these outfits together for their much larger six-legged customers of endless libido.
In many galaxies, many species would begin to imitate the “Sound that Shook the Federation” and greet each other with “URRGH” or “UUGHH” in faddish, kitsch fashion.
But they were soon eager to learn more once again.
V.
Zhang climbed up and up, higher and higher to the top of his guardhouse on the Great Wall. The sheer size of it was breathtaking, and how proud was he, to be of the people whose combined sheer effort, willpower, and fortitude had manifested into such a great structure as this.
Reaching the top floor and stepping out onto the wall walk, he rested his freshly-sharpened Qiang upon his shoulder, gazing out at endless acres of thickly vegetated rolling hills that surrounded all just beyond the battlements. The view of these beautiful lands left him in awe, and with a distinct sense of pride at his dynasty.
Now then, on to the tasks of the day. He thought he heard a strong gust of wind blow through as he set about them, but dismissed it. He was to begin stashing the battlements will spare gunpowder, should the monument ever come to serve its true purpose anytime soon.
He stepped closer to a barrel as a soft whirring subtlety approached from behind.
Zhang lifted, and lifted, wondering just how much powder they had packed into the thing, and all of a sudden, there went his back. The crack echoed through the hills, and he followed up with an “OOOUGH” and the knocking sound of a swiftly dropped barrel.
And away the drone went.
Ahuizotl marveled at the structure continuing to be raised before him. His father, and his father before him, had poured themselves into its construction, heaving stone after stone, cutting and carving with the finest precision, to erect a monument for their mighty empire to stand until the end of time.
There he stood upon the mighty temple at Tenochtitlan, gazing far and away at the still waterways surrounding the city, seeing gatherers far away tend to their fields of Maize.
The harvest looked promising this year. Time to get back to his own efforts.
He turned, and picked up a sizable stone meant to be the next step in the main stairway. And crack went his back, and “AUUGH” went his mouth, and down went the stone, and whoosh went the drone.
A similar scene played out with Geoffroi, a Frankish stone mason tasked with the raising of the Notre Dame. The drone saw it all.
Manu Iti threw his back out as he and others around him attempted to lift the newest-carved Moai, just recently hauled to the beach from quite a ways. A crack and a groan and away went the drone.
And things continued like this for a while.
VI.
All the time during, the council’s attitudes went from contemplation, to bemusement, to consideration, to inexplicable laughter, to consideration once more, then to confusion, frustration, contention, and reconsideration, and finally to a sense of deep and respectful understanding.
Here was a species of tradition. Here was a species that no matter how far apart they had spread, or what grander and grander structures they found themselves upon, always kept to the same rituals, the same procedures, the very same methodology by which they found their foundation.
Here was a people that deserved respect. Here was a people who’s mysticism in lingual meaning pervaded all of their efforts around their entire world. Here was a people who would be true to themselves for all of time.
“UUGH,” the council members sounded off, united in solidarity.
And then, it was time to leave them alone for a while. Of the foundations of the council and the federation it stood for, they had the idea that a new species upon a new planet within its own newly-populated constellation system ought to grow on its own.
They will have their countless lessons to learn, they will find their place within it all, and one day, they will crack and grunt their way to being a most formidable species, one with which the members of the council would proudly and humbly offer a seat and a place within the federation, when the time comes.
So the council meditated on their cracks and grunts for some time after. And after some time, they decided to check up on this little species on their little planet in the Anatrachian Zone, just to see how their little faraway friends were doing.
VII.
It was a quiet, peaceful day on Cedar Road, out in the suburbs. A delivery van grinded to a halt, worn-down break pads squeaking in mechanical agony as Jenny glanced at her clipboard, then to the faded numbers painted onto the curb.
“Yep, 1306 Cedar,” she said, opening the truck door and heaving to. She offered a half-hearted whistle to join the birdsong filling the nearby trees.
It had been a long day, and she took what little joys she can. There were many, many long days in her job.
Ahead of her, a gust of wind rattled the trees and the birds making song flew off. She shrugged, sighed, and moved to the back doors of the truck.
The drone moved in, and the doors swung open. And there, right before her eyes, was the largest delivery of the day. It had taken up half the damn truck, for chrissakes. Jenny breathed a sigh of exasperation, thinking of how long the deliveries had already been. A little longer, she was oh-so lucky to note, as one of the wheels on the dolly busted clean off on her way up to the porch, and she barely kept *that* package from taking a spill. But this one…?
She got into position, squatting slightly, getting a grip on the bottom of the hefty delivery. And a-one, two, three…
Pop.
“AAAAOOOUUUGH,” she cried.
As the package slammed down, the post peculiar whooshing sound, followed by a quite unnatural *zip* just barely caught Jenny’s ear. She lifted her weary head to the sky, massaging her thrown out back with one hand and leaning on the van for support with the other.
In between thoughts of sending the van off a bridge with a bowl of popcorn in hand and the clean bit of worker’s comp she would be sure to fight for, she wondered to herself.
What was that, anyway?