When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie, that’s a bore. Eh?
Worlds can not be built. That sort of thing takes millions of years, and no known cogniscents are willing to wait that long.
They can, however, be tailored.
The most famous group for doing this are the Archivaas. A human-descended cult of collecting, collating, storing and sorting records and information of all kinds. As a preventative measure against data loss, post Shattering, much akin to guarding the vault after a theft.
These obsessive-compulsive hoarders turn entire planetary systems into libraries.
But they are not the silliest example of planet-tailoring.
That award goes to Polyxicon IV, a planet owned by one of the wealthiest heirs of North Quarter Greater Deregulation. Once the planet’s surface had been groomed to his expectations, he was quite upset that the planet did not have a romantic moon.
The solution, since he also despised ocean noise, was to install a faux moon that orbited on demand at a satisfactory level above most buildings. It was made of a Control Operated Levitation unit with a rudimentary AI and coated in thick layers of sponge.
This turned out to be an advantageous construction choice.
The moon’s AI got bored, after a few human generations, and began deliberately bumping in to romance-inclined couples for its own entertainment.
For serial monogamists, this soon became a factor of irritation.
And the rebirth -and re-wording- of an old Terran song.
[Muse food remaining: 5 (fic war prompts, 0). Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]