In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

  • We Are Not Alone!
  • Reg Saner (bio)

Click for larger view
View full resolution

© Renée Y. Labonté

[End Page 128]

I

IN THEIR SOLAR SYSTEM, all the companion planets are cheaply made. Shockingly so. Hasty scans by my spectrometer have revealed the core of each to be made from pig iron, and with a high sulphur content. Instead of being identified by name, [End Page 129] these low-budget planets are whitewashed with huge numerals. Unsurprisingly, their orbital velocity is more or less devoid of enthusiasm.

For that matter, even their sun is a dismal affair, burning at a third of the luminosity we expect from ours. I was told their government balks at expending tax revenue on the great quantities of gold any first-rate solar sphere requires for fuel, and that same cultural frugality has funded no really brilliant stars whatever. Even their moon is a pitifully oval spheroid of field-stone, recycled glass, slag, smashed ceramics, cinders, and metallic trash.

Unaware of the irony, they boast that the bleak glow of this “extravaganza” is a great boon to night travelers, never mentioning the fact that its light is accessible only via the monthly fee they call “lunar subscription.”

Small wonder, then, that the few shoddy stars their parsimonious oligarchy at last agreed to underwrite quickly proved inadequate. No sooner had test versions been launched than they began to dim, then fizzled out, and have yet to be replaced. Obviously, the concept of an entire constellation is something they either cannot grasp, or, from their miserly thrift, refuse to entertain, much less consider funding.

II

GRAVITY THERE MANIFESTS ITSELF only when kept in mind. During waking hours it is therefore vital that thoughts of gravity be uppermost. Yet forgetfulness does occur. Heated political arguments can so distract a speaker that he begins to slowly ascend. No harm is done if before reaching the modest altitude of his body-height he recalls gravity. He then settles down slowly as he arose. But if enthusiasm, joy, or rage fast-forward him to escape velocity, his mental lapse becomes irreversibly meteoric.

Should an alert onlooker care to take the trouble, he may, with help from something trivial as a kitchen match, set fire to the rising body, thereby producing a cheap star. Or may just shrug him off, aware that sidereal bodies thus achieved aren’t very luminous to begin with, and quickly dim, either from lack of oxygen in the rise to ever-thinning air, or for lack of belly fat.

Still, really dramatic events befall when some morbidly obese and forgetful person takes flight. Luckily, the protective mechanism which causes very large people to obsess over gravity makes these gala occasions exceptional. Yet when one does happen they cry out in grief for the victim, while privately relishing the sight of a first-rate star that may twinkle for several nights running.

III

NONETHELESS, THEY’RE QUICK TO ADMIRE excellence in handwork. Of a fine silversmith specializing in filigree, they say his left hand is “all woman,” and [End Page 130] of a mason’s hammer-wielding right hand, say it is “much man,” whereas botchers have hands gone “queer,” a frequent “birth defect.” Even so, the heteronormative nature of their society is otherwise much like our own.

If just one finger of a bricklayer’s right hand should “turn homosexual,” quite decent courses may still be laid and no one the wiser. If, however, the affected finger promotes deviation in its peers, quality suffers, climaxing in joblessness.

As a damper on unemployment, state therapists devote hours to counseling even a little finger—wheedling, reasoning, suggesting experiences—and when successful in restoring a digit’s original tendencies, amputation is avoided.

Pollsters who have interviewed hundreds of hands say their data shows thumbs to be the finger most loyal to masculinity, even after a hand’s other digits have gone unanimously gay. This quirkiness would be of no importance if not for the risk of many an embarrassing contretemps betwixt a “much macho” thumb, and fingers that have decided to “come out.” For musicians the predictable result is often grievous.

Worse yet, persons who attain prodigious levels of skill...

pdf

Share