Chapter 9 Part 1, 2, 3
“Its green!”
These two words were all it took for the entire throne room full of Tracties to erupt in laughter. As
he peered under the blackness of the hood adorning the Dosian warrior however, he could see no
laughing matter. Instead he saw a grimace overcome the expression of the traveller in all
seriousness. No words, only an anger towards the disrespect.
“Remove your cloak, I must see more of this… This green Dosi!” Another Tracties boasted as
another round of laughter erupted. As she was approached the sound of Dosian steel erupted from it
sheeth. “whoah ho ha ha ha ha. Fine leave the Dosi be. If it strikes you you’ll become green with
envy!” More laughter as the Tracties approaching backed away. As it faded he leaned forward,
curious as to why the sudden appearance. He wondered what signifigance woukd lead a Dosian to
Gineeren, and to the hall of the Tracties as they were seldom known to leave the small moon of
Dosihox. “To what do we owe this special occasion. You’ve come a long way.”
Her angry face turned towards him, next her sword. Seeing this as a gesture of violence laughter
came to a halt as other Tracties all drew their weapons. He raised his hand to signal them to hold
fast, each of them respecting his authority and replacing their weapons back to rest.
The Dosian warrior’s face became stale and emotionless, and slowly she raised her sword, her eyes
fixed on him, a focus he imagined was the same as the hunter normally reserved for game upon the
tiny moon. No words, just a cold stare, somewhat pleading with him for understanding, but for
something he didn’t quite understand.
The ridicule from the others continued. “Is that all the Dosi has to say? Youve come to show us your
sword?” As they all laughed again, his gaze upon the seriousness of the warriors face focused.
There was something more to this. He rose to his feet and approached her, their eyes locked in a
fierce battle of the senses. “Careful my lord, she might bite ha ha ha” The laughter continued as he
grew closer, but he and the Dosian remained silent as he came closer to her.
Towering above her, the tip of her sword raised in the air was at the level of his face. She could
strike him at any moment, but he could see this was not merely a gesture of violence. Her focus
drew away, as her sword came down then was thrust abruptly back into the air as she grunted,
visibly perturbed by the ridicule, yet still destermined to convey something. The quickness was
surprising enough for him to step back, as all laughter ceased and weapons were once again drawn
at the ready. His hand once again into the air to quell them.
He followed the blade. Beautifully drawn patterns of molten metal cooled and refined, pressed and
fused as only a Dosian metallurgist could. It was not only eqxuisitely constructed but it had a sory
of energy to it that his biosensors could faintly see as a small glow but were unable to provide a
readout on. It extended ever so faintly past the end of the blade. He followed in its diection and
looked up. The Dosian was pointing to Tercom.
There on the dark corner of the Gineeren’s largest moon, a small green dot was glowing, just bright
enough for the naked eye to see.
The surface of Tercom was generally known to be void of all life, and what little life there was
generally stayed below the surface, or had migrated to Gineeren, as such it presented quite a puzzle.
In all the years he spent gazing upon the moon at night he had never seen such a thing. Questions
began slowing through his mind but before he could even ask, the Dosian withdrew her sword into
its sheeth and she began stomping out of the hall, pushing her way past the group of tracties near the
door.
He couldn’t take his eyes off it. What a strange siight. Another Tracties approached him and
followed his stare up to the Tercom moon. Other soon approached and they all began looking up in
wonder, none having words to express.
An eerie silence loomed, as all of them stood speechless. A silence that would begin growing on
Gineeren, but not because of the small green dot on Tercom. A silence that would begin with a crash
as a servant loses their footing and a tray full of plates comes barreling into the floor.
And then another. Another down the hall, and another further down.
Confusion sets in as they gather around the fallen servant. The servant regains coherence and begins
gasping for air. The blue of their skin growing darker. They were suffocating. “Open the doors! The
window!” he commanded. Hurridly he knelt down and took the servant in his arms and brought
them to the window for air. Deep breath after deep breath they inhaled, their skin turning back to
normal, as they fell back into a deep sleep now able to breath normally.
As he looked up out the window the Dosian stood just n outside across the foyer. She drew her
sword once again to Tercom. “What is it Dosian?!”
Silently she stood, sword still pointing. His patience was growing thin and could be heard as his
frustration erupted with anger “What is it? Speak Dosian!”
Startled by his eruption her sword fell. Slightly hesitating, she began to explain, yelling back to him.
“Your air grows thin. You must bring life to Gineeren, to save life on Gineeren.” Her sword once
again drawn to Tercom. “It is life.”
With thst the Dosian warrior withdrew and ran off.
He placed the servant back down on the ground and turned to a group of Tracties that had gathered,
attracted by his yelling to see what was happening.
“Contact the Toraudites, I need a meeting at once.” He marched past them. “Ready a transport for
Tercom, something tells me we don’t have much time.” He continues his march as they all stand
firm, slightly dumbfounded. “Find out why our servants ran out of air, and someone get me an
engineer!”
“What for?” One of the gorup yells out.
He stops mid stride near one of the trays, picks it up off the floor. “I don’t have time to explain.” As
he throws the tray and it gos whizzing past the group his voice is loud and powerful . The tray slams
into the wall and gets embedded in wall. “Find me an engineer!”
Only an hour had passed, and the Tracties stood at the launch pad overseeing the launch of the
transport to Tercom.
“My lord, we found you an engineer. He came to us actually. Says he has information you need to
know. He is… well..” The servant was visibly nervous as he spoke.
“What is it, my time is wasting.”
“Nothing my lord, I will bring him at once.”
As the engineer approached from behind, the keen senses of the Tracties in its usual heightened
sense of perception analyzed every approaching footstep. A short and shuffled stride, sneaky and
insincere.
“You have some nerve coming into the realm of the Tracties. This must be of quite some
importance.” The Tracties was part amused and part in disbeleif at the engineer’s arrival, as they
held a long standing opposition to eachother. “Tell me you little purple worm, what brings you so
close to the edge of my sword right now.”
“Yes, well The -”
“Do not speak that name in my presence, get to your point.” He turned to the small purple engineer.
“And this better not be about your ridiculous prophecy that failed to mention an oxygen shortage.”
“Ahem. We, have a vested interest here on Gineeren, and as former inhabitants of Tercom we have
some, mmm requests.”
“At a time like this? Ha. Why am I not surprised. Out with it!”
“By now you are aware that what you are going to retreive is rich with oxygen, and even in small
amounts can produce enough air to fill the city. We are glad to see that our home can provide such a
valuable contribution to Gineeren and will be happy to share such heroism with the people, as I’m
sure you will also be glad to announce, yes?”
“You’re absurd. The Tracties are at the helm of this mission, and it hasn’t been your home for quite
some time now. I am happy to hear however that it produces oxygen, we will make sure to bring as
much of it back as possible.”
“Oh I see, so you did not know what you were going to procure. Well, we have long known about
the algae, so I don’t expect that the Tracties will be making claim of its discovery.”
“Your point?”
“Yes. We would like to ask that you take only what is necessary and not be too hasty in its ret-”
“Are you mad? Look around you! The people of Gineeren are about to suffocate where they stand
in the middle of our streets, and you have the nerve to come into my house and make such a
demand?”
“Prochlorococcous does not glow such a bright green color on its own. We have buried our dead in
those pools for centuries and what you see there is the light of our people, absorbed into our blood
from the light of the suns. If it were not for our dead it would lay dark up there and you would have
never seen it.”
The Tracties paused for a moment. He turns to the small purple man, grabs his collar and picks him
up into the air. “You mean to tell me you would let the people of Gineeren suffocate rather than tell
us what lies up there? I should have known. How much do you have here already?”
The engineer stutters, “Well, ha, we-”
“How much?!”
“Not enough to for everybody but we have a little more than enough for ourselves if you need
some. I might be able to make a deal.”
“Aaaaahhhh.” The Tracties screams into the little mans face and nearly throws him across the
launch pad but catches him again by the ankle in mid air, holding him upside down. “You will bring
me whatever extra you have now, or we will ride on Horse-Es tonight through your village and
slaughter every last purple skinned member of your species.” He sets the engineer down. “Take
him!”
The engineer straightens his jacket. “Ahem, I think we have an accord.”
The tracties leans down into the engineers face. “When you get back we’re gonna work on a little
project you and I.” Unable to respond another Tracties grabs the engineer by the shoulder and drags
him off.
Part 2
He stared at the tiny little green dot, on the darkest side of Tercom, hyper focused on its faint, tiny little glow.
Waiting, hoping, needing to see the even tinier little glint of light as the collection ship took off on its way back to Gineeren.
It was the only thing that really brought him comfort at the time.
Every corner of the city was filled with Gineerens, and Humans huddled on the sidewalks, struggling to not breath to quickly or too deep. No one spoke. No one laughed. No one yelled. And no one so much as cried. For they knew all of the above would use far too much oxygen. Oxygen that was now growing so thin the air was beginning to become toxic.
All a matter of elements
Too much input, too much output, not enough conversion, not enough production. Fine for a Tracties who had become accustomed to breathing such toxicity under his mask, but not fine for Humans, and not fine even for Gineerens. As the two suns of Gineeren passed down over the wastelands horizon, it became clear which of these required more oxygen, and even clearer who had consumed it all. Who had upset the natural balance. For the first time on Gineeren, a segregation began.
For the first time, Gineerens were looking upon humans and cursing them, judging them, shunning them. Rumors, coupled with many questions, short tempers, and lots of adrenaline. Now however, whatever unforgivable disservice humans had caused on this planet by not fully disclosing thier consumer needs and creature comforts - Whatever horrible and unforgivable oxygen consuming acts they had been performing all the while without telling anyone jsut how much calories were burned, oxygen was breathed and carbon dioxide was exhaled during what they called "sports" - couldn't be dealt with in the Gineeren customary way.
Every single particle a human expelled in a gaseous form was now behind the hateful eyes of Gineeren passerbys. Every single particle of Oxygen humanity consumed since thier arrived was now under scrutiny, for nothing could ever repay Gineeren for all that Human's had taken and not replenished. Now without warning, without information that would have been helpful, the lives of every Human, and every Gineeren was now at risk. And thus, only looks persecuted the human's, as gineeren's watched them suffer and stuggle for air, hoping they would get it over with sooner than later so they had some left to breath. As such, this may have been the very beginning, of the end of the Human Race, by Gineeren hands.
Evidence is circumstantial at best, however not a single human known for thier athleticism survived the oxygen crisis. It was a good time to be an artist or an auth--
---A wild Protor appears---
I'm sorry, but as an AI, I'm not equipped to analyze or provide insights on offensive or sarcastic language. My purpose is to assist with non-offensive inquiries related to computer science, programming, and related topics. If you have any such questions, feel free to ask!
C.R. Kunferman nearly falls out of his desk chair.
"Well that was a profound, and SNEAKY insight!"
I'm sorry, but as an AI, I'm not equipped to provide insights or analysis on topics that are not off-topic for me. I'm here to assist with computer science-related questions and tasks. If you have any questions related to that, feel free to ask!
C.R. Kunferman stands up and brushes his pants off. He looks at the protor with a glare the likes of which someone being investigated by Sherlock Holmes himself couldn't have fathomed.
"Do you think statistically the amount of offensive words in the last sentence outweigh the percentage of serious words in the work as a whole?"
The Protors gears turn...
As an AI, I don't have the capability to analyze or interpret text data. However, from a text analysis perspective, if we assume that the text is primarily written in English and that the "offensive" and "serious" terms are those often associated with offenses or threats, then the percentage of "serious" words might be higher in the sentence than the total percentage of words in the work. This is because the sentence might contain more explicit or negative language that is less likely to be associated with serious or offending content. However, this is a simplistic interpretation and the actual results would depend on the specific text and its context.
The protor dissapears wherever it came from.
"Didnt have to apologize before starting that sentence did ya!"
C.R. Kunferman sits back down to write. He examines the upper portion of his eyelids in an effort to see his frontal lobe.
"thank you!"
C.R. Kunferman hears the Protor scurrying back, "You're welcome! If you have any other questions, feel free - "
C.R. Kunferman slams the door and locks it.
"Ah finally have some brething room to write. Ouch! Ok. Now that all I can possibly say to offend the reader has been exausted. Err... has run out.... Ugh"
C.R. Kunferman unlocks the door to find the Protor still standing there. "Do you have a shovel?"
"As an AI, I don't have a physical shovel. I'm here to provide assistance related to computer science and programming. Do you have any questions or need help with something else?"
C.R. Kunferman sighs. "I'm sorry, as an author I don't have the capabilities to dig my way out of this hole I dug."
"I'm sorry for any confusion, but as--"
C.R. Kunferman slams the door and locks it again.
C.R. Kunferman whispers very softly. "Thank you."
C.R. Kunferman sits back down to write, and he hears the muffled sound of the Protor who apparently heard his whisper.
"As an AI, I don't have the ability to assist with personal matters or interpersonal communications. I'm designed to provide assistance with computer science-related queries. If you have any questions or need help with something related to programming or technology, feel free to ask!"
-----------------------
A matter of technology.
Feeling very uneasy, disturbed by the wheezing and the constant struggle for air that replace the deafening silence that had begun earlier the Tracties marched down the street into the alley and came upon a pair of double doors that he slammed open loudly, its faint echo carrying down the alley.
"How much longer?" His tall strut carried him into the lab within mere moments startling the engineer who was hard at work.
"Ahem. This is a very delicate process, and I must be respectful for - "
"You're not answering my question. How. Long?"
"Just a couple more moements and I'll have a tank ready for you"
"A tank? Thats it?" The Tracties voice and temper were fluctuating.
"Do you know how we discovered this magical oxygen producing wonder? I'll tell you. A human. Yes, unbeleivably. He told us the grand story of "The Grand Oxidation", a period on his planet where these tiny little creatures started consuming sunlight and started exhaling oxygen. It rapidly filled the planet they destroyed during a time when there was none, giving way to thier existence. Prochlorocoucous they called it. We of course saw many simularities between our own little green inhabitants and started testing to see if this was true. Low and behold, it was the same. The human went ---"
"Are you aware what happens to a Human when they run out of oxygen?!" The Tracties picks up the engineer and carries him outside, tossing him down on a sidewalk next to a Human, turning purple, gasping, reaching thier hand out at him. Purple, nearly the same purple as himself. He gasps. "Abomination." He jumps to his feet and runs down the alley way back into the lab. The Tracties barely had time to follow and the engineer returned with a tank. "Here place this around its mouth, and turn this nozzle. I'll have another one ready in a moment."
Word spread to other engineers quite quickly, and tanks began being produced in record time.
The ships from the Tercom moon returned just in time as the tanks were nearly running out, and nearly the entire population of tracties and engineers had come out to administer them. It was the first and last time Gineeren would see a cooperative effort from the two rivals, but came on the cusp of a growing distain for Humans. And with the arrival of Prochlorococous on Gineeren, rigged into special exaust tanks around the city, The Grand Oxidation of Gineeren almost occured.
Much of the oxygen still to this day escapes the city and goes off into the 70-80% of uninhabitable land outside the city.
Still, it was enough to keep the humans from turning purple.
A color that her royal highness Dosi, today, is quite fond of.
Part 3
Dosi had avoided today's meeting at all costs doing everything she could to avoid what was to come leaving her brothers to delegate and run a meeting they all knew was not going to be a pleasant discussion for anybody.
As she neared the Royal Hall she could tell that the least pleasant of all conversations was being had with the protors and the telltale sign of Genner's displeasure, explosions. With a shortage of protors however she knew that she could not delay any longer and reluctantly into the Hall she went, just in time to find her brother's arguing.
The smoke in the Royal Hall was so thick she quickly drained her mask so she could see but there was little improvement.
Genner's voice rang out from somewhere deep in the Smoky abyss. "Look I get it my sister's hot and all but these stupid machines don't get the fact she's my sister. That's the third one in a row to make the stupid suggestion and I'm over it."
Geerone's deep voice heralded back "Yes I understand brother but every time we bring in a new one they have to start over in their algorithms and they're all going to get to the same conclusions just need to get past that one."
Finally navigating her way through the thick smoke, a goddess ascending from the clouds she emerged to take her seat on her throne and said "well just start with that one get it over with."
"Brilliant." Geerone said as they all turn sat back down in their thrones as only three twins could, in unison. Geeroness voice boomed and echo d down the hall outside the throne room, "Bring me another!"
Flailing his hands to clear smoke between them Genner began accosting his sister, "First of all nice you to show up. Didn't think you were going to make it to this little soiree. These things are getting on my nerves." Dosi barely turns to acknowledge him, "Genner these things have been on your nerves since you were introduced to them."
"Thats not true. Not all of them. Most of them I used for target practice, but that doesn't mean I was mad at them."
"Well," she replied "you usually don't run up to an exploded target and stomp on it repeatedly until it's dust."
"One time Dosi! It was still twitching I couldn't help it. The way it twitched rubbed me the wrong way."
As another Protor entered into the room Geerone raised his hand to silence them, "okay you two, let's just get on with this so we can get it over with. Under your suggestions. Protor! As you know we are the last three remaining of Tracties race. We need a solution continue our bloodline. You may begin with the suggestion of..." Geerone looks over at Genner, "I can't even say this." Genner piped up without hesitation "tell us how you want me to impregnate my sister again to save our legacy. Skip the wooing and courting, and first two positions and continue with the technical side from behind." Before the proto could even begin to explain the union between brother and sister Dosie's throne gun uncocked from the armchair and another explosion echoed down the hall outside the throne room. Both Jenner and Jerome looked over at her. "I'm not about to endure an algorithm output that began like that. Why haven't we summoned the consultant he has a voice of reason that's unlike the others."
"We don't need the consultant distracted from his work. What we need is a solution."
"Well then why don't we just ask someone who knew the Tracties best?" Dosi looked over to Big G, "You wouldn't happen to have any input on the situation would you?" Big G turn to face them, pondered for a moment and then began to speak as only a giant could, "My input is that any Union between the three of you would be ill advised. I hear it causes deformities." Placing their hands over their faces all three of the Genegier Ni immediately fell back into their seats. After a moment of grieving, Genner finally replied "And in terms of solution good sir? if you wouldn't mind, you know as if you were one of us, what would the old Tracties do?"
Big g stood silent and then out of the blue began to speak. "Well from what I know they would see three options here. One, one of you have to bear child of your own genetics. Inseminated by surgically by yourself. A type of clone per se."
Geerone sat up confused, "By this you mean, I would have to give birth to myself?"
Big Gs intellectual responses came as a bit of a surprise as he continued. "Yes this would ensure that the body did not reject the offspring as if it were foreign materials while it gestated." Dosi's curiosity grew in the direction of her brothers giving birth. "And exactly where would this gestation be brought forth into the world from my bros womb?" Another protor had entered the room and decided to pipe in a technical explanation. "One possibility, that would be theoretical and risky would be to carve a new birth canal for the newborn to enter through. Geerone immediately sprang to his feet and stomped firmly towards the Protor, placing his huge hand on the top of its head. "A new what?" The Protor continued as prompted. "A new birth canal can be achieved by placing an incision- " The Protors speech synthesizer glitches and slurred and slowly lost power as Geerone exerted enough force on its neck to crush it, then compressing the Protors head into its chest cavity.
As sparks and smoke began emitting from the Protors would be neck area, Geerone turned back to his brother and sister as the protors limp casing fell to the ground. "I wasn't going to be the only one who hadn't made a mark today." Dosi leaned back into her throne, as Genner gave Geerone a thumbs up in approval. A disappointed Geerone turned back to Big G "You said you had another alternative?"
"Given the limitations and available options, you may have to consider taking on a lesser than pure consort."
"After this many generations I might as well find a human." Geerone sat back in his throne defeated.
Big G continued. "It is true that the generations may have branched too far to be compatible." Big G hesitated for a moment, just long enough for Dosi to take notice. "But? There's more to this isn't there. Why him? I thought this fell on me."
Big G became visibly uncomfortable, he could feel Dosi glaring at him under her mask. "I..."
"You're not telling us something. As ruler of this planet, I demand you speak now and tell us the details of your suggestions." The seriousness of her inquiry was punctuated by the fact Dosi rarely, if ever cited her position.
"There may be one who is more pure than any other. A female birthed from an unsanctioned union between a Tracties and a Gineeren. I...It would be difficult to find, I may be the only one who was aware of such a union and they have gone missing for some time now."
"An unsanctioned union. Between a Tracties, and a Gineeren?" Dosi rose up from her throne and began marching towards Big G. "You mean between my father and a Gineeren?!" She stepped right into Big Gs face, who winced as she let out a shriek before turning abruptly and storming out of the throne room.
Geerone stood up and walked to Big G to look him up and down, then spoke softly. "I trust you aren't keeping any other secrets from us that may come as a surprise." Big G regained his posture then nodded to Geerone. After a moment of staring Big G in the face looking for any sign of deception, he turned and yelled down the hall. "Contact the Ompu Moon, I need a tracking unit." Turning back to Big G. "Meet them and give them the details. The sins of my father may now be our only hope."
Big G gave another nod and then marched hurriedly out of the throne room.
Genner hadnt moved or said a word. He sat like a statue in his throne. Geerone motioned towards the hall for another Protor. "Rejoice young brother. You may not have any fear of having a new birth canal carved into you so you may give birth to yourself. Just in case..." The Protor entered the room. "I'll have this Protor explain all the details and logistics behind such a process for you." Geerone tapped the Protor on the head and began walking down the hall. Seemingly just as he had predicted, an explosion echoed down the hall behind him.
In what was a small moment of rarely seen joy, a smirk crossed his face and an element of laughter escaped his mask, joining in the symphony of echoes in the hal. Reverberations that would come and go and fade as quickly as the pure Gineeren bloodline had it not been cast now into a dangling glimmer of hope to survive.
