Martin Rees asks: Is this our final century?

Sun, Sex and the Elvii - A Reconn Mission Briefing

He hated to admit it, but he really liked the chromosphere. There was something amazing about roasting in the top layer of a star, like a beach vacation with his family a long time ago. He remembered basking and playing for hours in the sun, sand and surf. And while there weren't any beaches in the star, it still felt very relaxing.

But he wasn't there for RnR. He checked his neural nanites to monitor the progress of his reconnaissance mission. The Elvii had built a space station in an otherwise unremarkable star system and somebody up the chain of command wanted to know why.

According to his records, the Elvii were a religious sect. It all started with the Aelfiin first contact. After a 250 year journey to colonize a world at Star 1472-2346-432-2-A-3466525, the Aeelfiin found humans had already been there for 129 years. After lots of hand wringing (and arm twisting), the politicians agreed that the Aelfiin "refugees" should be given "sanctuary."

Well, low and behold, humans did it again. It seems there isn't a space species that some human will not sleep with. Even the green sucker-faced monsters have groupies. So, some human colonists had sex with Aelfiin and made a little half-breed race called Aeltizos. After a time, the Aeltizos got tired of being treated like losers so they struck out on their own. They colonized a few moons in the system's gas giant and started a culture of their own, including lots of religions. And some of those religions have a tendency to get out of hand.

The most fascinating fact about the Elvii religion was the constant dancing, singing and getting jiggy.

So now Sergeant Thomas Garson of the 125th Mechanized Assault Recon Division (Pickled Punks) was hiding under the solar corona of Star 1472-2346-432-2-B-3466587 to watch a space station filled with wacky Elvii. If these religious nuts were planning to do something bad, it was his job to do something much worse to them first.

Not the most exciting job in the universe, but there were some perks. Besides, all n00b FNGs get crap assignments.

Fortunately, military life is all about routine. It kept him busy and active. His favorite was weapons practice. There was something incredibly gratifying about blowing holy hell out of a star! The best part is that you can't ever win. Not without some help anyway.

The Elvii wrote it off as "increased solar activity" and went right back to jiggling their hips, singing and chasing each other for sex.

When shooting into the star was over, he still had to monitor mission progress (automated at every 15 seconds), scan all data for keyed threats, perform system-wide sensor sweeps, chart and diagram everything larger than a golf ball, run diagnostic scans, monitor all quantum foam activity, perform routine maintenance and always with the damn reports! He even mapped the Hawking radiation to calculate the exact spacial dimensions of the nearby blackhole.

Year 1 was troublesome. All the Elvii on the space station were in combat training. An odd unarmed martial arts style they called Kingfu. This style seemed to combine a deep understanding of balance, leverage and dancing. There were never any weapons but some studied techniques for smashing stringed instruments over each other's heads. In either case, the Elvii are accomplished and capable unarmed fighters.

..... Estimated time to eliminate all Elvii on station: 1.2 seconds.

During Year 2 things started to get interesting. The Elvii stopped all formal unarmed training to start racing in wooden hovers! They built huge race courses all throughout the space station. Hordes of Elvii raced in hovers and inflicted untold damage. Afterwards, the Elvii would fist fight in bars and other recreational areas. Nevertheless, they still made time for singing, dancing and chasing one another.

It was like the Elvii went absolutely nuts! Running around wearing dark-colored animal hide jackets and beating each other up. Or rioting with hovers! He recorded the best races and brawls into his neural personal space. These flixs where going to get gazillions of Grid hits!

The only reason they weren't on the Grid already was because he was hard-wired for radio silence. Those damn engineers had literally removed his transmitters. He was completely mute. As far as MechSergeant Garson was concerned all engineers were the spawn of hell. It wasn't that he hated them. Far from it. Their skills and knowledge gave him a body for each mission. It was just that they seemed to hate him. Very, very much.

Time passed and he did as he was trained to do. He hid in the roiling flames of a sun and watched the strangest events unfolding on board the Elvii space station.

In Year 3, the Elvii changed out of the animal hides and put on colorful synthetic cloths. Floral motifs were very popular and it wasn't uncommon for the Elvii to decorate each other with flowers. There was a 26.5% increase in random outbursts of singing and dancing. Except now there was 3 times more sex.

Garson was convinced it had something to do with the females' outfits. He remembered sex well enough to know those ladies looked amazing. He filled the rest of his personal neural storage allowance with those flixs. These were going to get 100 gazillion hits and earn him a waterfall of cash.

By Year 4 they switched out of the flower shirts and put on long flowing robes. The only real effect of the change in clothes was that the robes caused a 8 second delay in getting naked. Otherwise, the usual festivities continued unabated.

At the end of the 4th year the Elvii gathered to host one last enormous brawl followed by a phenomenal orgy. The following morning everyone boarded starbuses and scattered to major, nearby star systems.

He waited an additional six months to make sure the station was completely abandoned. But all was quiet. His mission completed, he left the inferno and returned home.

Mission accomplished. The next mission better be more entertaining than this or he was going to start killing engineers...

A New Recruit

He floated in a a sea of darkness, no sight, no sound. Images of chaos and screams floated out of the darkness to torment him with nightmare memories. The screeching klaxons, acrid smoke pouring from the control panels, the moans and screams of his bros as the insertion vehicle died around them. The pilots called them "canned meat" because of the re-entry pods each trooper was locked into, but those pods weren't enough to save them. The nightmare images swirled around in a carousel of pain and remembered tragedy.

His mind replayed the mounting vertigo, the feel in the pit of his stomach as the high altitude vehicle plummeted thousands of meters towards a fiery collision with some very definite terra firma. He remembered the vomit in his helmet followed by the irrational shame of puking in his gear. He saw the panic stricken troopers in their pods across from him struggling against the inevitable. And the moment when forces overcame the vehicle's shell which ripped the insertion vehicle apart.

Obviously he was dead. No one could survive that horror. So, this silent, lightless void must be Hell. Judged and sent to perdition for his sins, he imagined a tear forming in his eye, but he had no eyes. He had no body anymore, he was just a disembodied mind. They say an amputee still feels his missing limb and so too could he feel his missing flesh. Trapped in a silent and never ending void, he cried out in incorporeal agony.

A flutter caught his attention and drew him out of his despair. It seemed like the tiniest vibration which he sent his awareness after in the hopes of breaking the eternal monotony. His attention focused on this vibration and encompassed it. And then the colors, sounds and feelings of life crashed in on him again.

He was lying on his back looking up at the light emitting Daedalus cells overhead. He was completely paralyzed but that did not bother him yet, especially when compared to the darkness he had just escaped. The room looked like every other hospital room he had ever been in, complete with force grown flowers which looked like iridescent purple daisies. The walls had the pale green color that seems the favorite of uncaring medical bureaucrats. There were people everywhere performing important looking tasks or they could just as easily have been wasting time. Looming over him, checking his vital statistics, was an enormous black skinned man with a bushy gray streaked beard and wearing a lab coat.

"Welcome back Private Garson," said the lab coat standing over him.

"Where am I?" asked Private Thomas Garson.

"Hospital ship Kevorkian in orbit around Nylon VI. You have suffered a significant trauma which resulted in the loss of 90% of your body. The rescue team that recovered you managed to put you into a stasis pod before your brain died. Don't worry, you're stable and you're gonna make it. Just get some rest now, the General wants to speak with you."

Afraid to sleep, Garson kept his eyes open. He realized he could easily look around the entire room with no difficulty but he could not see himself at all. No matter how hard he tried he could not see his body. After trying several times to move himself, he gave up. After an hour of waiting, the shortest officer he had ever seen marched in. His iron gray hair still showed signs of his last failed attempt at home hair coloring, but his uniform was pressed to perfection. His ramrod straight back screamed of self-importance but his shifting eyes betrayed his neuroses. His stripes revealed him to be the General the lab coat had mentioned earlier.

"Trooper Garson, I'm Major General Levy, Commander of the 125th Mechanized Assault Recon Division. We specialize in multi-environment combat," barked General Levy. "I'm here to offer you an opportunity to join our ranks. We are the best of the best, Trooper. Only those with the right psychological profile and physical condition are allowed to join my command. What do you say, boy?"

"Sir, I think you might be mistaken," neuralized Garson. "The doctors say I've lost 90% of my body, how can I possibly stay in the military?"

"Don't be stupid, son." replied General Levy. "I can't believe you've never heard of the 125th! The 125th Mechanized is a special discarnate unit. We issue you a body based on the mission requirements. You'll receive training in zero-g combat, extreme environmental combat, underwater combat and in all new advanced weapons systems. You'll become a member of the most elite unit in military history. A group of true warriors who use their brains to get the job done. But don't think for a minute you boys won't command the most hellacious fire power, because the 125th can bring down more pain per square meter than any unit in the army."

"Son, I'm handing you a golden opportunity on a silver platter. What the hell else are you going to do? Do you want to go home and be another wasted cripple? Do you want to burden your family with your care, or do you want to keep fighting to protect everything you believe in? Did I mention you get a significant bump in pay? "

"Thank you for the opportunity, sir. I think I should speak to my doctors before I make a decision though. I'm just not sure what my medical situation is at the moment."

"Look kid, your psych profile says you're perfect for this unit. Opportunities to be a hero don't come along every day. This isn't about doctors. It's about standing up and refusing to let something as bullshit as losing your body stop you from being a soldier. Your mind still works, we can provide you with a body."

Garson looked deep into General Levy's eyes and saw nothing but truth therein. Obviously he wasn't kidding.

"How does it work, sir?"

"Simple," said Levy. "First you say Yes. Then we transfer you out of this hospital ship and onto our combat carrier. What's left of you will be fitted into our special life support capsules. That will sustain you and keep you alive indefinitely. Then we'll start your training. You'll learn to pilot various combat mechs and other assault craft. By the time you're finished you'll be able to drive everything from the standard Predator class attack ships to assault tanks and even submarines.

"We'll upgrade your neural nanites with the latest small unit tactical combat software and we'll even implant you with a direct entangled comms line. When you deploy you'll be plugged directly into a mechanized body or vehicle. Usually, the 125th is sent for recon but we are occasionally called upon to eliminate small threats. You may work alone or in a team of three. You will operate completely independent of the command structure when deployed, which really means you'll only ever answer to me directly.

"What do you say, son? What's it going to be: 125th and glory or crippled at home?"

"I'm in."

"Welcome to the Pickled Punks, kid. You've made the right decision."

Math Language

"Philosophy is written in this grand book— I mean the universe— which stands continually open to our gaze, but it cannot be understood unless one first learns to comprehend the language in which it is written. It is written in the language of mathematics, and its characters are triangles, circles, and other geometric figures, without which it is humanly impossible to understand a single word of it; without these, one is wandering about in a dark labyrinth."
~Galileo Galilei


"Born of man's primitive urge to seek order in his world, mathematics is an ever-evolving language for the study of structure and pattern. Grounded in and renewed by physical reality, mathematics rises through sheer intellectual curiosity to levels of abstraction and generality where unexpected, beautiful, and often extremely useful connections and patterns emerge. Mathematics is the natural home of both abstract thought and the laws of nature. It is at once pure logic and creative art."
~ Seymour Papert

"God is a Mathematician"

~ Sir James Jeans

The Battle of Nouva Roma

"These rustics are obviously suffering from delusions," snarled Political Officer Alexi Grushenko. Admiral Xiaopeng Chin ignored him as he examined the data relayed to his neural nanites by the bridge Combat Grid. Pinpoints of red designated the motley collection of enemy vessels hovering like a malevolent cloud over planet Nouva Roma. His flagship, NCV Independence, had just punched through spacetime to arrive 250,000 kilometers from orbit.

A new neural feed from Sensor Officer, Lieutenant John Smith-Rodriguez: "Admiral, hostile craft are powering up engines and realigning trajectories towards Independence. Estimate 6 minutes to intercept."

Pale pink lines extrapolated from enemy alignment vectors resolved into a standard Two Crossed Fists attack pattern. Chin smiled. Rustics, indeed.

"Battle group, disengage tethers and await combat orders. Shield control, charge up the projectors. Sensors, full multispherical sweeps."

As the thoughts left Chin's mind, the Assault Carrier sprang into action. Eight Dreadnaught class battle platforms detached and fired their engines to distance themselves from Independence. Each platform bristled with missile launchers, rail guns, twenty-five Capture class marine transports and one magnificent singularity cannon. A swarm of 10,000 Predator class attack drones catapulted out of their racks and into the coldness of space. Each Predator equipped with one sensor/comm satellite and nine missiles capable of traveling at maximum speeds of 0.25c. All attack space craft detached from Independence to form into the Unfolding Fan defense exactly 25 kilometers away.

"Safe distance reached," sang out Sensor Officer Smith-Rodriguez. He had the annoying habit (probably from his ancestors) of speaking aloud.

"Engage shields," neuralized Admiral Chin.

Power shunted and the shield projectors rumbled to life. As they folded energy into the 4th dimension, the projectors emitted a millimeter thick time warping bubble at a distance of 10 kilometers. The bubble could not actually stop anything moving towards them, but it would slow it down long enough for Independence's point defense rail cannons to blow it to atoms.

"Ensign, open a channel to commander of hostile fleet."

"Aye, sir. Channel open."

"Attention hostile fleet this is Naval Carrier Vessel Independence. Disengage attack vectors, power down all engines and weapons and prepare to be boarded. This is your only warning."

Static harmonics crackled as translation software massaged the reply: "Independence, this is the Voice of God. We have claimed the planet below in the name of God. Interference with our Crusade is a sin. Flee before our Holy Might."

"Joy," though Chin with a healthy note of sarcasm. "Crusading fundamentalists." He sent a search request through his neurals to gather all available data on the Voice of God religious sect.

"Sir, sensors reporting class, registry and armaments of hostile fleet," cried Smith-Rodriguez. "Total of 2,182 space craft."

Chin reviewed the list that scrolled through his neural HUD. Only the Dominant class ship posed a real threat. In less than one second he designated kill zones and assigned his combat resources accordingly. The Dominant earned its own kill zone with Dreadnaughts Wright and Sikorsky ordered to "indulge themselves."

Four seconds later, the singularity cannons on Wright and Sikorsky aligned their focal antennaes to intersect at a point in space just ahead of the Dominant. Energy cells folded power into the quantum foam at the foci to form a micro-miniature black hole in space. When the Dominant passed through it, a point-sized singularity ripped through the armor plating, first piercing the life support cabin then the engine compartment. Explosive decompression did the rest. Within seconds the enemy ship was an expanding cloud of wreckage with no survivors. After eight seconds, the singularity dissolved back into the q-foam.

The Predator drones leapt forth like birds of prey at the enemy. Hostile vessels launched missiles and fired mass cannons at the oncoming Predators. Responding swarms of smart missiles smashed into their targets and lit up the void with plasma detonations as carbo-titanium nosecones impacted at a quarter the speed of light in a cataclysmic assertion of Newtonian physics. There was no need for the explosive warheads of old; the massive release of energy was enough to destroy anything and everything in range.

"Break through sector thirty-six!" screamed Smith-Rodriguez onto the silent bridge. "Two inbounds have contacted the stasis bubble."

With a thought, Admiral Chin oriented six point defense rail guns to open fire on each inbound missile. The first missile died as a one kilo ball bearing sheared through the onboard computer rendering the weapon into another chunk of space junk. The second missile proved more persistent and required no less than six direct hits before succumbing to the damage. "Six hits! Must be some kind of record," thought out Politico Grushenko.

Sixty percent of the enemy fleet was destroyed or too damaged to fight on. Independence however had only lost eight percent Predator drones and no platforms. Marine transports departed from the platforms to seize the damaged ships and to retrieve emergency lifeboats. Enemy vessels turned to flee; if they could get far enough they would jump to safety.

"Destroy them all before they escape!" demanded Grushenko. "They must not be allowed to spread their poison."

Bols to you Grushenko, though Admiral Chin privately. Political Officers kept up with all the political wrangling within the Confederation Assembly. They were supposed to advise the senior flag officer on the political ramifications of any action, not to issue orders. Arguing with him now would lead to more trouble than the lives of the fundamentalists were worth. But it still pissed him off.

Ten minutes from when Independence first punched into Nouva Roma's solar system, it was all over. Predators chased and destroyed all the remaining fundamentalist space craft. More than 300 prisoners were captured by the marines and dropped into stasis chambers for transit to trial then penal colonies. Losses were within acceptable margins and no pilots suffered mental collapse from piloting 100 Predators each under combat conditions.

"Independence Battle Group, stand down."

The battle was over. Yet another victory credited to Admiral Xiaopeng Chin in his long and acclaimed career. Somewhere in the vastness of space, he silently prayed there was a real challenge for his brilliance; a worthy enemy that would test his skills.

Maybe one day, he thought privately.

The Age of Energy: A Historical Summary

Humans have come through many great advances in our history. We have divided our technological history through a series of Ages. We started in the Ice Age then Stone, Copper, Bronze, Iron, Classical, Dark, Middle, Industrial, Information, Biotechnical and finally into the Energy Age. It was a time of great change for humankind. Finally, we were able to solve the greatest problem of human history: energy.

Back in ancient times, energy was mostly created by burning hydrocarbons to release pent up chemical energy. Industrial equipment, based on mechanical systems, converted a fraction of the hydrocarbon's potential energy into useable energy in the form of either motion or electricity[1]. Because these systems were woefully inefficient, only the smallest fraction of available energy was harnessed. As strange as it may sound, these same processes powered the earth for centuries.

Most historians agree that the Age of Energy official began in the year 2058 with the creation of the first Daedalus Screen by Dr. Fwad Malik of ARAMCO. Dr Malik based his invention on the previously discredited Theory of Potential Dynamics by Professor Ian E. Morris[2]. The Daedalus Screen was originally developed to be a super efficiency solar panel. However, when preliminary tests showed that the total output of the Screens exceeded the total visible light input, it was clear that a major discovery had occurred; the new cells were converting all radiated energy.

As everyone is aware, Dr Malik had invented the superconverter,[3] a device capable of converting 99% of all radiation into electricity. Within months, new versions of the cell were developed that could produce any kind of energy. But Dr Malik feared that the fundamentalist King of Saudi Arabia would destroy the new invention, so he published the processes involved in the creation of his Daedalus screens to the world through the Grid. Within two weeks, Dr. Fwad Malik died under mysterious circumstances.

By 2061, the first Daedalus cell was born when scientists from Lawrence Livermore National Laboratories encased a gram of uranium in a cylinder of the Daedalus material. By tooling the cells to convert all released radiation, these new batteries provided power for the 10,000 year lifetime of the radioactive isotope. The first Daedalus cell batteries were small and were mostly used in small electronics devices. Daedalus cells output constant energy levels regardless of use. All power generated in excess of demand is converted into neutrinos and released to decay in order to comply with the Laws of Conservation of Energy. Electronic devices had to be redesigned to include power regulators to control the flow of electrical power.

In 2062, the first private conveyance called "automobile" was produced using Daedalus technology. By 2066 most homes had disconnected from public power utilities[4] in favor of large scale Daedalus cells. The previous energy producing nation-states[5] either faced economic collapse or were forced to adapt to the Age of Energy. Therefore, while Saudi Arabia became the largest regional exporter of fresh water, Venezuela collapsed and fractured into multiple self-governing ethnic indigenous territories. It was a time of great upheaval and change.

The old political struggles and armed battles of old Earth changed overnight. For the first time in human history cheap, clean energy was available for all. Once energy stopped being an expensive commodity, massive leaps in agriculture, manufacturing, travel and space exploitation were realized by our ancestors. Finally, humankind could stop fighting each other for energy resources and they could turn their eyes to the challenges of the new millennium. Our current civilization would be impossible without The Age of Energy.

Footnotes:
[1] Electricity is an early power distribution system based on electron flows thru copper conduits. Apparently Copper Age technology was still in use in the Information Age!

[2] Morris, Ian E. "The Theory of Potential Dynamics"; Beijing University Press; 14 March 2024. Morris died penniless and insane living under a bridge shouting out his theories at anyone walking by.

[3] A superconverter is a phenomenon occurring in certain materials with internal matrices maintained at absolute zero, characterized by almost no energy form-wave conversion loss.

[4] Historical Note: Because power generation required enormous facilities, everyone purchased power from corporations that manufactured and sold power. Strange but true.

[5] Archaic governing body based on regional territorial control.

Datran IV Colonization Finance Committee Minutes

File Ref# 2119080734567892


2119 Aug 7 : 14:12


### TRANSCRIPT ###


VoiceID: Saunders, Matthew H.
EmployID: SA-926-70-1108
Title: Chairman of Finance Committee, Director of R-Squared Multiverse, Inc., Professor


SAUNDERS: Is it on? Is this damn thing working? Hey, Vince, is the light on?


VoiceID: Gonzalez, Vincent M.A.H.
EmployID: G2-832-01-6092
Title: Data Technician


GONZALEZ: Yes sir. Lights on and we are recording.


SAUNDERS: Make sure, please. I don't trust these damn things.


--Silence 2 seconds


GONZALEZ: I verify you are recording, sir. All backups functioning normally. You may proceed sir.


SAUNDERS: Alright, I call this meeting for the Finance Committee to order. We are here today to listen to a proposal to colonize a new world. We all remember Doctor Fortune who has come to us before. Remember also that by Court Order we must not allow the disasterous results of his last colonization effort to affect our decision here today. Also, I am required by R-Squared Multiverse to state that Doctor Fortune is not really a doctor of anything; he had his name legally changed fourteen years ago. Doctor Fortune, you have the floor.


VoiceID: Fortune, Doctor
EmployID: n/a
Title: Interplanetary Playboy, Best Selling Author, Pimp


FORTUNE: Thank you Professor Saunders. Ladies and gentlemen of the committee, honored personages, visiting dignitaries, off-world visitors and you green sucker-faced monsters. Before you this afternoon I shall present an investment opportunity that will repay itself in more than 68 years! A planet so perfect, an opportunity so fantastic...


Ladies, gentlemen and intersexuals, I present to you - the Datran star system...


--Audio: Play "The Accordions of Zool" FileID: 2119080734567892-1
--Holo: Play "Datran - Star of Fortune" FileID: 2119080734567892-2


FORTUNE: See the worlds spin gently around their star, almost exactly like our Sun. It is exactly the same in luminosity, temperature and color but it is 6.1% larger. The star system Datran is home to eight planets. Four outer gas giants provide ample opportunity for He3 mining. Current spectroscopy certifies that He3 concentration is at 62% in Datran VI! Mining can commence immediately without need for expensive concentrators! That alone makes Datran a guaranteed profit center.



Now, allow me to show you Datran V. Analysis from scout probes, which I personally financed, indicates that there are a wealth of minerals for mining not only on the surface, but throughout the neighboring asteroid belt. I have a committment from StarCore Mining that states if you finance this colonization effort, they will undertake the total cost of the mining operation in exchange for a 25% stake in the profits.


VoiceID: Gelsomino, Agostino
EmployID: G1-214-02-7210
Title: Legal Counsel


GELSOMINO: Have you included this contract in your proposal documents?


FORTUNE: Yes sir! Please refer to "StarCore Agreement"


--Doc: "StarCore Agreement" FileID: 2119080734567892-3


GELSOMINO: Have you signed this agreement?


FORTUNE: Your approval of the contract is required.


GELSOMINO: Continue.


FORTUNE: Ladies, gentlemen and other, I now call your attention to the crown jewel that makes this entire undertaking possible. I present to you, Datran IV.


--Audio: Play "Pimpin' 'Hos on Satellite 9" FileID: 2119080734567892-4


FORTUNE: Datran IV! A world identical to our earth. Same atmosphere, within 1% the same size and exactly the right distance from their star. There is an existing biosphere with amply life. We have multiple probes in orbit that have been relaying back data for sixteen months. The most dangerous animal on the planet looks like a cross between a leopard and an iguana but weighing 2.5 tons. Fortunately, they have no armor against blasters. Priority Item 9,357 calls for needed equipment to extinct these beasts.


--Doc: "Colony Priority Expenses" FileID: 2119080734567892-5


SAUNDERS: Why does this rank so high on your financial priorities? Usually planned extinctions don't come in until much lower on the list.


VoiceID: Ming, Susan
EmployID: MI-193-44-9345
Title: Sensitivity Officer, Doctor of Xenobiology


MING: If I might, Mr. Chairman? I agree with Mr. Fortune. These things are terrifying. They should be eradicated but it should be done humanely. Mr. Fortune, can I have your assurances that these beasts will be put down humanely?


FORTUNE: Yes Doctor Ming. We'll shoot them from 'copters with high-powered blaster rifles.


MING: Well, I'm perfectly alright with that.


SAUNDERS: Please continue Doctor Fortune.


FORTUNE: Thank you Mr. Chairman. Datran IV is a lush garden paradise. No ape-like mammals have evolved. There are no signs of intelligence on land nor sea. Animal life has not evolved past that leopard-iguana. Furthermore, our environmental sensors have detected no unknown viruses or germs. Which, permit me to add, further advances my theory that the common cold exists on all habitable planets.


Datran IV is lush with life. To date we have discovered sixty new species of edible plants and vegetables. On the largest continent there is an enormous glacial plain slowly formed by receeding glaciers 2,000 years ago. The potential as farmland is unbelieveable. We estimate mature production will exceed 100 billion tons per year! A veritable Garden of Eden for all to enjoy.


Now, please allow me to address the elephant in the room. Terrible mistakes were made on Pimpin' III...


GELSOMINO: Stop right there! We are legally required not to think about that!


FORTUNE: Nevertheless! Mr Chairman, hear me out!


SAUNDERS: I'll allow it. Carry on.


FORTUNE: Colonizing a new world is an enormous task. No one person is fully responsible. That being said, who could have known that our weather control satellites would cause the entire planet to vanish under a massive hurricane? My lawsuit against the satellite manufacturer is still pending. In memory of all who died on that ill-fated planet, I ask for a second chance.


SAUNDERS: Talk to us about Specialist Personnel. You've made some non-standard requests.


FORTUNE: Because of the extensive nature of this expedition, we will require multiple specialists for the stage 1 seed colony. The Security Specialist should be trained in all standard issue military weaponry and will be responsible for building the colonial militia and executing the planned extinction.


The Engineering Specialist will ensure the orderly functioning of all equipment on the planet for the stage 1 seed colony. This includes repair of farm equipment, light transportation systems, sewage systems, power generation and all other colonial infrastructure.


We will need a Pilot for our planet-hopper vehicle to shuttle personnel to and from orbit as needed for satellite repairs. During off time, this individual will also be tasked with scouting the immediate solar system for future stages of the colonial and industrial efforts. He can also chart hazards and deploy navigation satellites as usual. If he lives long enough, he can eventually shuttle personnel from the mining facilities for R&R on Datran IV.


SAUNDERS: Who do you have in mind for Colonial Governor?


FORTUNE: I am happy to announce I have secured the services of none other than, the interstellar holo actor - Zoobie!


MING: Zoobie? What's a zoobie?


SAUNDERS: Are you joking? Everyone knows Zoobie! Remember, from "Kid Space Ranger!"


MING: Sorry sir. I guess that's before my time.


SAUNDERS: Blaspheme! Fortune, can I actually meet Zoobie?


FORTUNE: I'm sure that if you see fit to fund this colony, something can be arranged.


SAUNDERS: Well, in that case: I hereby approve funding for the colonization of the Datran star system. Is Zoobie here?


FORTUNE: No sir, but I'll call him and see if he can join us for drinks now.


SAUNDERS: I can't believe it! I'm going drinking with Zoobie!


### END TRANSCRIPT ###