Today Earth Ceased Spinning

By J Ella

A representative of space faring ETs recruits a 60-ish retired gentleman farmer to start up an agriculture enterprise. This group of ETs love food. Food has become their art and reason to be. They forage the stars of heaven to find delectable morsels.
While entertaining his very tall ET visitor, the retired gentleman farmer (Jonus) prepares a simple snack which uses lots of garlic, sesame and chick pea paste. The ET (T'Lanette Traos) goes nuts over garlic and wants Jonus to come back to her mother ship and start a garlic growing enterprise. She is positive that they will become wealthy through the monopolization of garlic.
He agrees and brings his big old dog with him.
The mother ship is massive -- half the size of our moon. There are nearly 25 million ETs and 14 million of other races that the ETs brought on board.
Along with the living, the souls of the deceased dwell on board the massive ship. The combination of technologies used to push the moon-boat through the stars of heaven created a spirit trapping field.
Souls that could not complete 'migration' either went mad or became fully integrated members of the crew. Mad souls we called Disgruntled Discorporates. The ET's had developed technology which allowed the soul to occupy electronic and other equipment. This was called a Discorporate Boolean Interface or DBI. Only well adjusted Discorporates were allowed to occupy DBI technology.
Disgruntled Discorporates sought the destruction of the ship -- the only way they could be free to complete 'migration'.
The ETs possess bio-engineered virus which translate verbal languages. Jonus and his dog Khan are exposed to the Translator germs.
Jonus and Khan must adapt to all of the culture shock and weave their way through the various factions on board.
Garlic is hugely successful and makes all 39 Earthlings wealthy and famous.
Jonus suffers a terrible accident and is reborn as a Discorporate entity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J Ella
• Release date: Dec 2, 2010
• ISBN: 9781458179227

J Ella

Born in the late 50's. I breezed through the Cold War and era of Mutually Assured Destruction with the oblivious mind of a child. When I emerged from the bubble I realized that both Einstein and Hendrix had passed away... Now that I am in my 50's I find that I must re-inhabit that oblivious space of my childhood. Only now I must carry on without the Friendly Giant to guide me.

Book preview

Chapter 1

When the lie becomes principle, violence becomes policy.

C'mere big bud. Take a look at our old home – Earth.

Khan snorted with derision as he placed his very large rottweiler paw against the view screen. Who you trying to fool, he asked. "I'm not a goofy puppy! That small grey ball is no larger than my paw!

I sighed. Khan was such a literal critter. Despite the translator germs that infected him; he was a puppy when it came to conceptualizing. Comprehending the objects he saw on the view screen was difficult. He needed smell and sound to help to fill in the gaps.

We are a very long way from Earth my friend. That is why it appears to be so small. As we got closer to Earth, the planet would appear larger.

I manipulated the viewer's controls switching to a forward looking camera perspective. The Deevoorite mother ship was a tiny sphere tucked between Mars and Jupiter. The ship was nestled inside the asteroid belt like bird in its nest. I manipulated a large button which modified the zoom. The alien ship grew in size till it became the size of a Pilate's exercise ball on the viewer.

According to my new boss, T'Lanette Traos, the mother ship was half the size of Earth's moon. The Deevoorites could not bring their ship closer to us for fear of messing up Earth's tides and tectonic plates. The gravitational effects of a second orbiting moon would be catastrophic.

T'Lanette said that first contacts were always tricky. Xenophobia was the major difficulty followed closely by failed expectation. Just because the extraterrestrials had space traveling technology did not mean the contactee's would automatically get the technology -- let alone comprehend it. When the Deevoorite's failed to be Santa -Tech the less advanced races would get pissed and do stupid things. She said xenophobia was much easier to spot.

C'mon bud lets go back to the cargo hold, I want to find a computer and speakers. We should be listening to some inspirational music for our momentous ride.

Don't mind if I hang around the cargo hold? Plenty new strange smells, Khan spoke.

I laughed, Just don't lick anything strange – it might make you sick!

He was enthralled by the exotic smells of the cargo hold. I could not help but wonder what gastronomic delights were once stored in it. The Deevoorites were essentially interstellar foragers. They required lots of food in their interstellar travels. T'Lanette was one of the ship's quartermasters or pursers. Her job was to survive first contact and to bring back a cargo hold of wonderful things to eat.

I must say that I was surprised to be hired so readily. After all, I cannot do 500 push-ups nor can I sit in a tank of freezing water then quickly reassemble my assault rifle. Neither am I a genius in any particular field. And finally, I am not financially capable of buying my way into any venture. In short I am nothing more than a retired gentleman farmer. I produce garlic for extra money to cover the shortfalls of my pension. As well, I work a large veggie garden to keep me eating good organic produce.

At this point in my narration I should back up and explain how the dog and I came to be hired by a Deevoorite representative of the space forraging Traos clan...

~~~

Chapter 2

When the truth is too wretched a nice myth will do...

The most wonderful thing happened to us on June 29th 2017. They came! And I survived my 60th birthday reunion with everyone I have ever known.

They just popped into the solar system between Mars and Jupiter in an extraordinarily large space boat. Then They zapped our planetary communications systems and broadcast Their arrival. Communication events happened so rapidly that no governing corporate hegemony could deny Them.

Of course we had no idea what They were saying. Since They looked human and smiled a lot - we did not panic.

The shock of the momentous occasion by-passed me whilst I lurched through a post-binge stupor. I was relieved that something monumental was occurring in my life. Until They came I felt that my generation were cultural underachievers.

My grandfather witnessed the birth of radio, the First Great Depression, the rise of the automobile, vaccinations, two world wars, the rise and fall of communism/monarchism, aircraft, TV, man on the moon and computers. My generation added immense heat to the environment, mapped the human genome, created bubble economies, the Second Great Depression and perpetuated the never ending ‘Intoxication Wars and Oil Wars’.

To my great relief They were not an advanced survey fleet for a hyper-spatial freeway building group. To the chagrin of our Security Establisment on planet Earth, Security was simply not in control of the situation. What could be done anyway? They could jump extraordinarily big ships into our solar system and take over our sophisticated communications satellites at a whim.

If They were thin gray beings with black ovoid eyes and four digit hands, intent upon our enslavement -- we would be at Defcon 5. If They were slavering insectoids looking to host their next generation in us, we would transmogrify into a race of suicidal ninjas. Since They were benevolent looking big humanoids, with nice white teeth, we didn't panic.

However since we couldn't understand Their language there was a significant element of the unknown. The principle question on our collective Earthly minds; why did They come? Perhaps the only time in our history where all peoples around the globe focused on one issue.

Language changed overnight as well. ‘They, Their & Them’ (in italics) became a reality instead of a euphemism uttered by paranoid schizophrenics, neo-zio-lib-cons and National Securocrats.

The economy of the world did not collapse much – not like it did with the credit bubble burst of 07-12. Prime rates held steady while the stock market lurched to a stall. Short sellers and hedge funds did well throughout it all. However, the drug biz and medical services sector took a bit of a hit. People stopped popping pills on the expectation that They would bring wonderful medicinal advances.

Only a few of us thought they were metaphysical beings like Angels, Djinni or Naga. The major religions of the world did not suddenly have an influx or exodus of worshipers. Rapturous cults of Alien Believers poured from the woodwork to flood the streets and blogosphere.

The real crisis was created by the rash of holiday bookings. Suddenly every working person wanted the summer off. This was logistically impossible to arrange. In response, business owners decided to cancel everyone’s summer vacation time. Productivity fell as a result. 'The people' took umbrage because the boss would not let them have the time to celebrate - the most amazing thing ever…

Had we been invaded by slime infested, knife toothed, armour plated Mutants we would be told, Nothing to see here, go back to work. In order to sooth the ruffled feathers of we-the-people, there was talk of another Official summer holiday! If we survived our first interstellar trade encounter, future generations will enjoy ‘We Are Not Alone Day’.

However the top dogs of our planet were no longer top. Something much higher on the food chain threatened them. The cotyledons of co-operation began to sprout. This new found co-operation was based on a simple truth - we ain't Alpha no more. Generally speaking, when the top of the food chain underwent a displacement of position, a global war (or at least horrendous revolution) would happen somewhere. Millions of us, and a few Alphas, would perish.

Our global leaders could not block the communications stream that They projected at Earth. This created a couple of dilemmas for our governments. Problem One: how to control the outcome of the alien encounter so that we-the-people did not prosper from it. Or, if there were any expenses incurred with the Contact, we-the-people paid for it entirely from our taxes. Problem Two: how to place as many ‘minions’ between Them and the ruling class should the encounter go badly.

My grandfather would call the second solution 'the cannon fodder plan'. My granddad managed to survive WWI after being blown up, shot and gassed. Since he was an officer he did not get to go home due to injury - as did the conscripted. He was recycled back to the front.

I was not worried by Them in the least. I had survived 60 years in this increasingly corrupt Western culture. Besides - I was too old to be part of the cannon fodder plan.

And at this point in my life I could not give a hoot about another cool electronic gizmo. If the aliens were going to pitch some kind of hand held E-wonder; I would pass. Peering at micro LED displays through a translucent shroud of glaucoma did not help.

‘Old fashioned’ is a label I accepted with reservation - although I don’t know of any other 60 year-olds who ran a MMORPG space empire that spanned nearly 13 years.

‘Out of touch’ may also refer to my refusal to follow mainstream media. I discovered that the ‘official position’ put forth by mainstream media conglomerates had very little to do with what was really going on. I felt downright insulted to pay a premium for information that was nothing more than an accompaniment to a Corporate Hegemony’s advertising campaign.

They must have observed our TV, Radio and Internet noise for the couple weeks that They were silent. We used microwaves as a carrier transmission to satellites and back to ground relays. Very few systems were using ground to satellite laser transmissions. Eavesdropping would be easy for folks who could jump a vessel, 1/2 the size of our moon, into a nice parking spot between Mars & Jupiter.

~~~

Chapter 3

It is harder to escape from old ideas than it is to practice new ones. - J. M. Keynes

Their next transmission (the one that the entire planet understood) came as a simply drawn cartoon. It was instantly dubbed Alien Anime. Although there were many who referred to it as a Docu-toon. There was no mistaking the communication. We could expect a visit! They were sending envoys to us in smaller ships. They depicted themselves as a culture of space faring traders* that meant us no harm. (* denotes imperfect translation).

The space faring traders* were kind enough to do a little comparative physiology in Their cartoon message. They were much larger than Homo Sapient. They were illustrated with nice blue skin – ours was depicted as pink. All They wanted to do was trade* for some supplies for Their ongoing journey. The message was easily understood by all Earthlings but we still did not know how to address Them.

I wondered if They could tell the difference between a TV series or Movie or a news report. I hoped They did not think that the revised series Moon-base Alpha was real. Given that They did not speak to us in any Earthly language, how much knowledge of our Global Culture was translated from the radio-wave and microwave noise we spewed?

Their smaller ship proved to be larger than 43 of our aircraft carriers welded together. The carrier blew a path through the asteroid belt as easily as I brush off spring gnats in the garlic garden. National Securocrats sent probes to spy on the progress of Their command carrier as it approached lunar orbit.

The Alien Anime or Docu-toon illustrated the carrier’s planned route to orbit the moon. From there They were going to send envoy/traders in smaller ships. However They were vague about destinations and what They sought. Commodity speculators on Earth came out in force and bought futures in everything - from pork bellies to Carbon Credits.

Within a month of Their arrival (and subsequent intent-to-trade communiqué) the cost to buy anything on Earth rose by 135%. I finally won the (decade long) argument with my Dad. He believed inflation was the result of the salary and wage spiral. I argued that pay cheques had very little to do with inflation given that derivatives trading was 20x the combined GNP of all nations. Gold rose even more so in speculation that They would trade something useful for it.

Our scientific community was abuzz with speculation. With the last CERN experiment failing to find the Higgs boson, the notion of graviton-as-particle died. The collapse of the super string universe was quick to follow. This was an intellectual disaster for the creative community. Writers had been using super string hypothesis as the conceptual basis for spaceship technology and anomalous space-time phenomena. These string universe phenomena could transport one to distant galaxies within a couple of nail biting moments.

Maybe They had a quantum space drive that could be here and somewhere-else simultaneously.

Our scientists, writers and clergy desperately wanted some heavy duty consultation time with Them. In truth I wanted answers-to-big-questions far more than I needed funky new E-gadgets.

Their Docu-toon was very sparse with details. We did glean that They were pursuing a race of interstellar lizard beings. The lizard beings looked graceful with slender hands, long muscular legs and comfortable tails that they could sit upon. I wondered if the lizard people had chairs. Then I wondered if they had big ships too. Then I could not help wondering if they had any chairs on their big ships…

At this point I would like to remind you that our English language adopted the standard that [they, them & their] (in italics) meant the lizard people whereas {They, Them & Their} (in italics) meant the big blue humanoids.

Our Security Alpha’s were wondering what repercussions we could face (from the lizard people) for trading with Them. My mind does not think like a cornered rat so that particular worst-case scenario never crossed my mind. When I saw it discussed loudly by some blogo-leets my reaction was simple. We trade with the lizard guys too!

God's teeth -- we even have some insider information! They don’t need chairs and we do have lots of useless Mortgage Backed Securitys laying about collecting dust…

I began to ponder in earnest. What could They & they conceivably need from us? How many other interstellar races dwelt beyond our sphere of awareness? Do they need gold too? Or was Klaatu’s interstellar currency, the diamond, what They wanted or offered in trade*? We have a ton of those useless and overpriced things to trade* off as well.

And if They & they want our precious crude oil to power Them gigantic space boats we will rise up and… Ha-Ha what exactly could we do about it?

OK, so what if They offered the elixir of everlasting life (for all of us), the Truth of It All and space drive technology - would we trade them our crude?

The clash of civilizations raged on in 2018. We and they (the bombed-unto-Stone-Age) still bled rivers through bitumen fields and poppy valleys. But then They probably realized how ferocious we become over the black goo.

And If They wanted the black goo that oozed from the cuts in pretty red poppies would we trade* it to Them? What if They were interstellar drug merchants looking for a brand new product to market? What if our illicit compounds were highly sought after medicines elsewhere? I hoped so. That would solve another of our never-ending modern wars.

Or, gasp, what if they were big blue inter-stellar cops looking to bust us for our plethora of addictions? I chuckled to myself at the thought of Them spraying ‘agent indigo’ on the copious vineyards and hops fields scattered about the globe. Perhaps They would trade for a shit load of ABS, MBS, CDO, SIV and whatnot then the lizard them would pop in to bust us - an intergalactic sting?

My first contact speculations were more Monty-Python-esque farce than sinister H.P. Lovecraft imaginings.

I presumed They had encounters with other lesser species during Their wanders. Their team of Xeno-psychologists must have determined that a cartoon was the best way to diffuse us. It worked. Who could take a race of cartoon communicating trade* friendly aliens as a threat?

Within those few weeks each nations' Securocrats fulminated over all the possible scenarios (and the Impossible) before Their Trade* Envoys arrived. The sale of science fiction and horror novels, dealing with alien contact, soared. Outside-the-square-of-convention ideas were sought by administrators planet wide.

I had too much work to do plucking garlic scapes to speculate over best and worst case scenarios. I had read hundreds of novels and watched hundreds of movies and TV attempts at the genre. I figured that They were pretty much in control. There was nothing to do but be nice and relatively open minded about the situation.

A few hectares of garlic and other veggie plants required maintenance. Pumps and irrigation lines were constantly getting clogged by pond water sediments. Weeding was another perpetual task. Fence repairs and other property maintenance were ongoing in the battle against Mother Nature. Despite the abundance of woods, fields, rivers, lakes, oceans and shoreline wilderness; Nature’s beasts preferred to eat the stuff we grew inside our fence.

After a day of garlic scape plucking, I devoted my time to my on-line space game. The Axis of Ebil (AoE) alliance had been griefing star systems under my protection. Normally I would let the Boony Boys battle it out for themselves. But my rare supply of the mineral Zorphenite was coming from the asteroid belts in the Boonies. It was vital in the development of seventh generation warships. Axis were flexing their muscles and under contract from my rivals to hammer on my Zorph production -- my Achilles heel.

As the galaxy’s richest person; it was easy to acquire numerous mercenary flotillas to flatten the AoE. Eventually my rag-tag armada did. It cost me a staggering pile of Interstellar Currency (IC), war ships, weapons, implants, ammunition et al. A good space tyrant like me turned everything into a profit. I leased the recently vacated Axis space to some very tough salvage miners.

By the time They arrived at the beginning of August; I profited over the cost of crushing the Axis of Ebil and I was harvesting garlic. Ironically it would take 8 years of garlic sales to equal the value of my on-line game character – if I sold my game account for real money.

If They had a machine that could pop garlic scapes I would be interested in obtaining distribution or patent rights. And while I’m making my ‘wish list’, how about a solar powered slug repellent gizmo?

~~~

Chapter 4

Violence may only be concealed with a lie and the lie can only be maintained with violence. -Ovid

This morning I strolled through the vegetable garden. Those fricking greasy black slugs dissolved much of my broccoli overnight. They ate many beans and peas and all the peppers. The black slugs are foreign to my little island. Brought over here courtesy of our mad dash to trade* with China. The black slugs don’t have predators or disease to control them over here. Chinese black slugs are more aggressive than our icky domestic piebald green slugs.

Farmers and gardeners lose many plants to slugs. Perhaps I would get lucky and They would find the black cruds a delicacy. Oh yeah - black slugs selling at 1600 dollars an ounce! It would become more profitable to grow plants to entice slugs!

I assumed that They would land Their trade envoys in the major political city centers around the planet. So did all the big players in the global trading* game. They probably realized that it was cheaper to buy direct than to go through too many levels of middlemen. As star faring traders* they must have realized that the larger the fleet of black armored limos and security personnel, the more expensive the deal becomes.

While I was commiserating over my vegetable losses I wondered just how much stuff a space boat (1/2 the size of our moon) could carry? That would be a lot of slugs, mortgage backed securitys, gold, diamonds, crude and opium.

As Their carrier maneuvered into orbit around the moon, They sent another Docu-toon to us. This cartoon communication showed us that 42 smaller ships would depart from the carrier to various parts of the globe. They did not ask for permission to land and Their exact destinations were vague. They were going every where but the capitol centers. The communication was explicit. We were not to shoot at Their envoys or incarcerate the envoys and we were certainly not to perform medical explorations upon the envoys. We were not to worry about space germs.

Quite frankly I did not like Their concept of ‘first contact’ much - although Their concept of bypassing the food-chain appealed to me.

I have read many hundreds of science fiction novels and watched almost every sci-fi movie or TV series made. I knew it would be the little people (whom They contacted) that would be rounded up and incarcerated. The action justified under the guise of ‘national security’…

The last thing I wanted to be was a ‘contactee’.

My partner Kate was absent throughout the arrival of Them. She was attending her very ill sister 3300km east of our salty wee island. The lignite fired pollution from the Ohio valley power generating plants was killing many seniors back east. Utility companies fired up the crappy old plants on in the summer when every North American was running air conditioning.

Climate change was not a conspiracy of grant seeking scientists. It was a state of the planet. Earth's climate was in a constant state of flux. Anthropomorphic causes, like greenhouse gases, had become heresy after the second great depression.

By 2015 the most persuasive of the worst case anti-fossil fuel scientists were black listed and prevented from working. They were deemed a ‘threat to national security’. The rest of the researchers quickly adopted the theory, It’s the sun, yeah it’s the sun, causing the changes.... If they did not hold the ‘official position’ they did not get funds for any research.

Problem solved – no more global warming caused by our gaseous effluents.

And with nearly 10 billion of us on the mud ball in 2017 - who cared that scads of seniors were dieing of air pollution?

~~~

Chapter 5

For lack of a hammer the nail was not driven...

An anonymous psychologist-neurosurgeon once postulated that the unknown parts of our brain contain stupidity. It’s Bio-wired into each of us - with no discrimination towards race, gender or IQ. I was frightened that They might twink or buff that hither-to-unknown part of our brain; bring us to our true potential.

One must conclude that our genetic design included stupidity as a random generator – an X-factor to prevent stasis and to spark evolution.

Seriously though, take a look at the pioneers of flight through the evolution of aircraft design. Many first attempts at flight were done in foolish contraptions that cost the inventors their lives. The people around them at the time must have thought that airplane pioneers were insane or at least stupid.

The Currie’s played with radioactive materials and set the empirical foundations for a lot of modern physics. They died prematurely as a result or radiation induced illness. Not too smart in the least. Yet their work helped in our technological evolution and ultimately our cultural evolution.

When I reflect upon my own life, I realize that stupidity caused me much grief. Yet grief is a catalyst for change. I can say with certainty that my own stupid decisions were instrumental to my survival. Mistakes are an opportunity to learn and knowledge is yet another catalyst of evolution.

They had evolved space faring technology and They were humanoids nearly 2.5 times our size. According to the universal and irrefutable Laws of Stupidity; They would have performed some amazing acts of idiocy to evolve as far as They did. Since They were nearly 2.5 times larger than we were – it stands to reason that Their brains were 2.5 times larger. This of course means that They have an enormous Stupidity Potential.

This brings me to the truly terrifying perspective of our encounter - the combined potential of our species mutual folly…

An act of foolishness towards Them would have dire consequences. Their Docu-toon illustrated, in wonderful cerulean tones, exactly what They would do. They would burn off our atmosphere. That action would leave us gasping like fish out of water – not to mention broiled or boiled. A poker player might call it a bluff. However in calling the bluff humanity could become a nice myth.

If I were to meet a big blue person I would certainly not shoot them, incarcerate them or perform medical experiments upon them. I prayed that no one else would be so foolish. Surprisingly, I wanted to make it to my 70th birthday.

I missed my partner Kate. We don’t do the phone thing much and she is a sparse email and text correspondent – she is not a big fan of electronic communication fads. She was more concerned about her sister than she was worried about the alien trading* invasion.

During the most recent of our phone calls, Kate and I discussed the idea of the consequences They would bring upon us. Kate could not believe that a race of space-farers would be so Draconian. She figured They had encounters with other non space cultures along Their journey. She assumed They learned how to handle the culture shock in a more civilized way.

I was hoping that as any humanoid species evolved; the Stupidity regions of the brain shrank in proportion. Kate told me that my Stupidity Hypothesis was unflattering and insulting. She did not think it would sell many books. I replied that it was not my concept - I was merely regurgitating the infamous mid-80's chat room discussion.

Then I told her about the invasion of the black slugs and of our broccoli losses. I told her of my fantasy where They find the slimy cruds delectable. And overnight we have a money making bio-machine…

She laughed with gusto over that one. It is always better to hear her voice without the dread of her sister’s ordeal. Despite her optimism she was also living with the larger tension -- the threat of planetary oblivion.

However the threat of planetary oblivion was nothing new. From the 1950’s to present, most seniors lived with the dread of nuclear annihilation or mutually assured destruction by chemical or biological means.

The threat of global annihilation did not originate from aliens. Our global Alpha’s and their National Securocrats were the cause of it. Shortly after this phase of lunacy - the neurosurgeon-psychologist chatted his theory into being. Shortly after the Laws of Stupidity were formed the Berlin wall came down and the Cold War ended.

As my on-line space tycoon persona, I could relate to Earth's displaced ruling class and their Securocrats. It was a long and arduous climb to become the ruler of 3 regions and 44 constellations. I had to work deal after deal to get there. I am targeted for assassination every moment of my on-line life. Accordingly I must surround myself with military protection at all times.

I am comfortable knowing that at any moment, in my on-line tycoon life, I could die violently. I guess some of that laissez-faire has migrated to my real life. The game has taught me that: 1) people will only do as much as is in their best interests. 2) Get their part of the deal out of them first. 3) Always deliver your part of the deal once you get theirs. 4) Don't trust business or government claiming to look after your best interests.

In the very old days the bible was hand copied by priests and in very limited supply. Only the priests had them. When the printing press was invented, possessing a bible became heresy or blasphemy unless you were a priest. Nearly 2000 years later and people were still kept in the dark by their leaders who claimed to know what is in everyone's best interests.

I have come to a paradox in the Stupidity hypothesis. Without Stupidity evolution does not occur -- yet too much Stupidity causes the same…

~~~

Chapter 6

My name is Satellite Sam. I view the Earth from an orbiting can.

With a wildly palpitating heart I eased through the blockade fleet stationed around the Ymir jump gate. My newest invention, the Mark 7 recon vessel, performed flawlessly -- allowing me to ghost past the blockaders. After a safe distance grew between my ship and the enemy ships; I jumped to a safe spot close to the sytem's gas giants. Then I activated a jump beacon. Within minutes a few Behemoths from the Praxis Battle Group would jump in on my beacon. Until they arrived I was a sitting duck - totally immobile and defenseless. The beacon required so much of my ship’s energy capacitor that I could do nothing for the duration of the cycle.

The hub of my empire lay deep within heavily fortified space. Most of the time I was secured in a space station far from any action. I was so tired of sitting and giving orders and wheeling and dealing. I wanted to see missile trails and warships implode! And I yearned to watch the glowing fragments of my enemies hurling through the void...

If I succeeded with my nefarious plan, I would profit by several galactic fortunes. By now, in my on-line game career, it was no longer strange to view the costs and rewards of my endeavors in terms of a galactic fortune.

Ymir was a pinch point system in the Malthos constellation. There were only two jump gates in the system. One gate jumped you into Ymir from Pietho and the other jumped you out of Ymir to Tyhke system. If you wanted to control Malthos constellation Ymir was the system to blockade.

My rivals had to pay for their earlier attempts at capturing my Zorphenite supply. I was going to disrupt theirs. The knowledge obtained through advanced game theory is a useful – unfortunately you have to have a PhD in mathematics to fathom the concepts. Basically you have to do the tit-for-tat thing or you lose. You die from a thousand small cuts. You have to make some slices of your own to keep yourself on top.

My long time on-line pal and empire co-ruler (Admiral Deth) was in real life a professor in advanced mathematics from the University of California. He told me of the principles of advanced game theory. To our mutual surprise I understood but it was Deth's intimate understanding of game theory which we applied to our on-line empire.

The Lords of Light were my rivals responsible for hiring the Axis of Ebil. Their source system for Zorphenite was so fortified that I could not afford