Tevun-Krus #33 - Generation Ship

MARS MOUNTAIN AND THE LAST NATIVE PLUTONIAN - by @MadMikeMarsbergen

A NOTE FROM THE NARRATOR (ME)

DO you speak Plutonian? No you don't. But I do. So I'll do you a solid, because I like the cut of your jib. You don't need to worry about deciphering some bizarre-looking cuneiform script carved into clay tablets by some guy with too much time on his hands and a real knack for creating shapes that all look the same—I mean, did the idea of easy-to-read letters never cross his mind? Instead we get a bunch of near-identical wedge shapes. Nor will you need to flip back and forth through the thin pages of a ten-pound English–Plutonian lexicon, potentially earning yourself numerous paper cuts to your precious fingertips; wouldn't want to miss out on peeling oranges and other citrus fruits, now would we? And I'll even do you one better: I'll remove the brackets and italics which indicate something is being translated, because ain't nobody got time for that crap. Now, of course, English is the standard language of the Sol System, so, to be fair, there won't be much translating going on in the first place... Phoned-in introduction? You betcha. Now where was I? Oh yeah. Enjoy.

1: WELCOME TO PLUTO

i

AH, Pluto. The coldest and most desolate planet—yes, it's still a planet by my standards—in the Sol System. Technically, Planet X drifts in and out of said Sol System on a 3,600-year orbit, so it doesn't count.

Anyway, the Plutonian chill is easily fixed with some nifty psychomagik; the desolation part is still being worked on, however. Great advancements have been made lately with what is called the "Keuvelaar Gate," and the goal is to finally bring one to Pluto and ensure easy travel to and from the isolated messenger planet, but that won't be finalized for another ten or fifteen years. So until that future (present) day comes to be, ships will continue making infrequent voyages to the lonely, two-faced planet—generally ships blasting the finest in reggae music, commandeered by some stained-shirt-wearing captain going through warranon withdrawals. The tense of this story is rather uncertain, as you can tell, but I promise I'll try to get a leash on it soon enough. With one day on Pluto lasting approximately 6.39 Earth days, and a single Plutonian year lasting 247.7 Earth years, one thing is certain: Birthdays don't come easy if you're Plutonian, but when they do come, boy, do they ever last.

Wait a second. Why am I telling you all this stupid info-dumping crap? (Other than to dump info on you before we even begin, just to scare away those of you who are allergic to that sort of thing, of course.) Is it important? Eh, not really. But it sure makes what comes next seem that much better by comparison!

Today—the 13th of July, 1998—was Nodnarb Plutupo's birthday. Woah, I lied before: That second paragraph was kind of important. Technically, Nodnarb was less than zero years old; technically he hadn't even been born yet (don't ask me how). But, since the Sol System's Psychomagi use Earth as the golden standard by which to determine one's age and even the calendar itself, Nodnarb was now fourteen.

Nodnarb was Plutonian—the last native Plutonian, in fact (woah, title-dropping), unless of course he had children and they were born on Pluto, too. But they would be of a mixed species. His little sister didn't count, since she'd been born in an icy vat of methane on semi-nearby Neptune. One of those New Age trends that are all the rage these days. In this time of great scientific discovery, it seems crackpot ideas are more common than ever.