Amalgam Universe

The unthinking introduction of an omlette to a birdlike alien species.

“What are orbs?” said the assigned Human Watcher. So far, it hadn’t been as dangerous or nasty as she’d been lead to believe. Ri’ki’ki was starting to believe that all the stories were just… stories.

“Eggs,” said the human. Her name was Sta-see. Or something close enough. She was organising her little kitchen according to her own rules.

“You having egg in stasis? They is never hatch.”

“They is never meaning hatch. Is food. Not baby.“

“You eating egg?” Ri’ki’ki yawped.

“Knowing much differing. Baby egg not food. These egg is food. Much differing. Smart ape no eat babies.” Sta-see drew an X over her chest, indicating a vulnerable point. “This egg sterile. No baby. Guaranteed.“

“Who is make?” Ri’ki’ki asked suspiciously.

The human bought out her infopad and pulled out a picture. “This make eggs. Terran bird, stupid bird. Humans keep for make food. Yes?”

It looked almost like one of Ri’ki’ki’s ancient ancestors. Troubling, indeed, how parallel evolution could make things like this happen. The companion footage clearly showed an animal. Not even a cusp-cogniscent being.

Sta-see pulled a pan out of her little oven and transferred the contents to her plate. Then added some irradiated cheese to the top. The product looked and smelled delicious.

Ri’ki’ki knew better than to try untested human food. These deathworlders could happily ingest flesh-eating enzymes and call it a flavour. “What is food?”

Sta-see bit one of her rubbery lips. “Um…” she said. “Please be understand, self is wait much long time. Wait in anticipation, food of home.”

Uh oh. She was apologising already. Which meant that this could be perceived as bad. “Sta-see… why is two place empty in egg pod?”

“Is calling ‘omelette’. Making of egg. And other things. But first, egg.”

And that was how all the rumours started.

[Muse food remaining: 17. Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

Prompt: A Lilo and Stitch-esque scene with numidid and surfing humans.

T’yoree was frequently trotted out as an example as to why scientists should not be allowed to breed. She had, even to the humans, the self-preservation instincts of a concussed whelk.

As a keet, she would ride the larger dogs and invented the concept of Frisbee Dodge-em.

Some said that the natural Deathworlder attitude towards risk had rubbed off on her.

And she was the first Numidid to surf. Of

“You do That! for fun?”

“What the heck is that?”

Charlie peered past Kress’ shoulder. “Oh. That’s my wingsuit. I use it for base jumping.”

Kress screwed up her saurian features. “Base… Jumping.”

“Yeah,” Charlie grinned. She started to bounce in her enthusiasm. “It’s like skydiving, only instead of jumping out of a plane, you jump off of something really tall, build up speed with the suit, and then rip silk.” She hastily amended, “Uh. That means

Human sweat is so acidic, it can corrode metals. By micrometers and over years, but still

Something there is, an ancient poet wrote, that does not like a wall. The poem was about the forces of entropy versus cogniscent-made structures, but Rael knew for a fact that that ‘something’ also pertained to humans.

They were practically a force of entropy on their own.

Case in point: Shayde.

Not only was she obviously isolated from current societal norms, but she had a large

“Didn’t anybody tell you that when you are in a hole of your own making, Don’t keep digging.”

Hwell called it a ‘fox hole’, but its dimensions were closer to that of an elephant. And it was now very deep, because the native pests had a long reach that went along with their fear of falling.

It was past dawn. They were gone, now.

“We’re in a hole,” said Hwell. “Um. Too wide to climb out. Loose soil,

The domino effect, as applied to takeovers, and what happens when the last one falls.

This was it. The pinnacle of success. Fortune Incorporated had made its last takeover. With this signing, with this handshake, with this cluster of flashes dazzling his eye… Fortune Inc owned every business in the world… and since he owned Fortune Inc, he owned the world.

For the entire press conference, the glamorous soiree, it was all he could do to maintain a restrained and

“This year’s human sacrifice features something very special- actual humans!”

“What were they sacrificing before?” murmured Edilade “Soy humans?”

“Best not to ask,” whispered Janet. “You have any of those smoke bombs I told you to dispose of?”

“Of course not.”

“Well, gimme some of those smoke bombs you don’t have.” Janet had already escaped the natives’ shackles. They all had. Being a scavenger