Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

The environment of Nahen IV is such that Obet were constantly beset by predators, particularly the closely-related darorwo. This has led to the development of a number of natural defenses against predation, many of which the Obet have conscious control over.

Firstly and most infamously, Obet are capable of generating slime of varying viscosity which can allow them to wriggle free of potential danger. The biological process is similar to the hagfish on Sol III; the Obet releases polymers that react with nearby liquids or atmospheric moisture to generate any quantity of ooze desired. Unlike hagfish, the Obet have the ability to control several aspects of their generated slime, including its viscosity, color, adhesion, and more. With some practice, most Obet can–and many do–create slime “hair” of a high viscosity and adhesion that will stick to their heads, as a fashion statement.

One of the factors Obet can control is how toxic the resulting ooze is–at least to the other native organisms of Nahen IV. The toxins have a variety of effects on other sapients, with no effect whatsover on the Zypger, a mild rash for Fulvans, a gentle tingling for Humans, and intense stimulation for the Vatna. The highest toxin levels can be fatal to darorwo and even some other Obets, particularly those from other clans, and are therefore rarely employed on Nahen IV, seeing more use among Obet living off-world.

While most adult Obet have full control of their secretions, when profoundly shocked, intoxicated, emotional, or otherwise in an altered state of consciousness, Obet will sometimes slime on instinct. Most regard this with intense embarrassment, much as a Human would regard offensive body order or involuntary urination, but inadvertent sliming is also a key aspect of transgressive Obet humor, and one of the most popular subjects for stock Obet characters in fiction.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

Obets hail from the world of Nahen IV, a warm, moist environment with a thick atmosphere and many shallow seas with few oceans. They have sometimes been compared to Earth amphibians, but this comparison is relatively inaccurate, as Obets do not have a larval form and do not undergo metamorphosis. While they do appear slimy, generally speaking this is a sheen or texture, and Obets can retain moisture as well as any other sapients. They are, however, excellent swimmers with an innate spatial sense which makes navigating the cloudy waters of their homeworld easier.

One of the key differences between the other Star Confederation sapients and the Obet is that the Obet do not have genders of any sort, a trait they share with relatively few others. Indeed, Obets are by far the most numerous genderless sapients in the Star Confederation, and often assume a protective or nurturing attitude toward any others of the same ilk. It is sometimes said that the Obet are mono-gendered or even all-female, but this is not true either; they are non-binary in the truest sense of the word, and all Obet are capable of both producing unfertilized eggs and fertilizing them as they wish, though self-fertilization is not possible.

Traditional Obet culture demands that hatchlings be left to find for themselves for the first 1-2 months of life, ensuring that only the fittest survive in the crucible of the birthing pits. Any “defective” hatchlings with obvious departures from the Obet breed standard that survived were then sacrificed in a variety of rituals. Only a minority of Obet follow these practices in the modern day, relying instead on modern techniques to ensure that a mating does not produce 1000 surviving offspring. Still, many Obet traditionalists regard emerging from a crucible as a major point of pride, and the intense privation of their earliest days goes a long way to explaining why many Obets and much of their culture favors safety, security, and comfort.

Obet family trees tend to be very convoluted, and they place a great deal of importance on family ties, with the eldest and most respected Obet of any family group or clan being acclaimed as Parriarch. This fierce loyalty has unfortunately led a number of Obet crime families to gain notable stature in the Star Confederation’s underworld, as an organization comprised of traditional Obet family members would never consider turning on one another. Rifuo Neffe, Irax M’Deed…Confederation media is full of lurid tales of Obet gangsters, and it has led to an unfortunate stereotype of Obets being inveterate, habitual criminals.

Another notorious stereotype in the galactic community is that Obets’ control over their reproduction, being fully and consciously able to decide if they wish to lay or fertilize eggs and able to withhold either indefinitely, results in them being hyper-sexualized. While it is true that some Obet work in that field, their reputation is greatly exaggerated in this area too. The only kernel of truth to the rumors and legends is that it is, in fact, nigh-impossible for an Obet to produce offspring with a non-Obet sapient due to their vastly different genetic makeup and life cycle. While some cutting-edge and highly controversial options are available, it is generally out of reach for all but the wealthiest multi-sapient couples.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

As part of the SETI initiative, Southern Michigan University purchased farmland near the outskirts of Hopewell, MI in 1978 and built a radiotelescope known as the Little Ear. In design it was essentially a 75% scale model of the Big Ear operated by Ohio State in Delaware, OH, and was specifically designed to help eliminate problems with the larger array that had been noted after the 1977 “Wow!” signal, namely the lack of specific right ascension values. The intention was that, in concert with other nearby radio telescopes, the Little Ear could rapidly track and lock onto an identified signal.

In reality, the project was viewed as an expensive boondoggle by sources outside of the SMU Astronomy Department, and the university administration sought to shut the project down and sell the land to developers. This pressure grew stronger as the university’s enrollment increased throughout the 1980s and 1990s, and when a new university president was inaugurated shortly after the departure of the longtime astronomy chair, it was clear that the Little Ear’s days were numbered. In July 1995, the telescope was removed as a line item from the university budget, and the Astronomy Department was told that the land would be offered for sale immediately. They were allowed to continue operations with a reduced staff of volunteers until NASA funding ran out, as the latter had been slashed by Congress in early 1995 as well.

The last day of Little Ear operations was scheduled for June 30, 1996, with the final overnight crew of volunteers working the night of June 29-30. At 11:16 pm EDT, the Little Ear received what has been described as a narrow band un-modulated continuous wave signal, with an intensity 30-31 times galactic background noise and a frequency of 1420.4642 MHz. Most of the equipment had already been turned off in preparation for the facility’s closing, so key details were not captured, and much of the information available was hastily written down by the team. Its popular name comes from an internet relay chat (IRC) that one of the volunteers had been running with a colleague during the incident, which was abruptly interrupted with a “WTF.”

Volunteers placed an emergency call to the SMU Astronomy Department chair, pleading for more time to analyze the signal and for additional funds to reactivate equipment. The chair, in turn, called the president of SMU, who angrily dismissed the request. Volunteers from the Astronomy Department faculty arrived on-scene to assist by 12:45 am, but in spite of their efforts no additional information about the signal was forthcoming and the telescope could not attempt to re-acquire it until the following day.

With no funds remaining, demolition of the Little Ear began at noon on June 30 as originally scheduled. Volunteers sent what data they could to other radiotelescopes, but none were able to confirm or replicate the signal. One of the volunteers, who later became chair of the Physics Department at the University of Northern Mississippi, was particularly bitter, claiming that the university administration “threw away first contact.” The incident attracted little notice outside of astronomy circles, however, and the Little Ear was fully demolished by July 9, when the land was sold to a developer to use in expanding a golf course.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

This beach is shared with the wildlife
The posted placards proclaim
No going in certain areas
To crush to kill or maim

But this doesn’t mean that the backhoe
That smooths out the beaches each day
To make them all pretty for tourists
Is affected in any way

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

In an unexpected announcement, delivered without warning or fanfare this evening at a press conference, Mississippi Republican Party chairman “Trip” Howell announced that governor Tate Reeves had been replaced in office by an actual potato, effective immediately.

“I have every confidence that the new potato administration will be a successful one, and both I and the state Republican Party wish Mr. Reeves a happy and harmonious retirement,” Howell said at the event.

Former Governor Reeves, who did not attend the ceremony, could not be reached for comment. Reeves’ former office referred all questions to his successor, noting only that the former governor was in an ‘undisclosed location’ that was ‘on a farm upstate.'”

At the press conference, questions were raised about the potato’s fitness for office. “The potato is eminently capable of carrying out the duties required: sitting quietly in the governor’s chair, not doing or saying anything stupid, and letting aides sign legislation on its behalf,” Howell said, “duties that Mr. Reeves was consistently unable to discharge.” He added that, unlike Reeves, the potato would also be able to reinvent itself to connect with younger generations, as a plate of french fries or tots.

When it was pointed out to Howell that replacing a sitting governor without an election was illegal and grossly unconstitutional, he boldly predicted victory for the new potato ticked in the upcoming primary and general elections. “Our supporters are issues-driven, not personality-driven,” he said. “As long as the proper letter is next to the name, they will vote for a bowl of bolognese.”

“Besides,” Howell added, “we have a supermajority. Try and stop us.”

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

Near the edge of what I’m calling the sea, even though it is fresh, Tuzin’s people built a small dock that has since deteriorated. I’ve been using it as a source of fresh lumber as I continue to make repairs; I have what seems to have been the smithy operational, and am working on others as well. The results have allowed me to make better tools, and I can fell trees, provided they’re not too large, for extra resources.

But while I was working, I was accosted by a new horror, this time rising from the deep. Its flesh was so pale and waterlogged it was impossible to tell what it had been before death and whatever had reanimated it–could it have been one of Tuzin’s people, or was it a native inhabitant of this bizarre place? Either way, if anything the waterlogged terror was just as strong as its landwalking brethren, and its blow smashed at me like a sledgehammer. I was able to lure it out of the water and beat it to death with my weapon, but I was seriously injured in the process.

Tuzin left some basic medical equipment, and I have been making do. But it has curtailed my ability to repair the roof holes that creatures have been utilizing to enter the structures. I did however find a cache of food in an unlikely spot: floating gardens on the lake, established by Tuzin’s people for unknown reasons. I’m not complaining, though, since they are ready for harvest and highly edible, if simple. Starvation has taken a step back, even as my injuries bedevil me.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

I have spent most of my time attempting to repair what is left of Tuzin’s settlement. A few more of the shambling remains of the former inhabitants were lurking in the remote corners of the outpost, but thanks to a workbench I found in one of the buildings, I have been able to make a simple but effective weapon with a stone head and a wooden shaft. Unlike the branch I was using before, it will stave one of the creatures’ heads in with just a few blows.

My first priority has been to get the settlement cleared of hostiles and to locate food and water. The settlement is near a freshwater body of some kind, so that has not been an issue, but as yet I have been surviving on moldy rations rescued from abandoned or destroyed buildings. If I can get access to a ready supply of food, I just might survive long enough to find what has become of Tuzin.

The buildings in the settlement are quite simple, wood and adobe. I’ve been making repairs by cannibalizing a few of the more damaged buildings, but progress is slow. I dare not venture too far from the base, as I’ve seen sinister shapes lurking further out, especially at night. Whatever they are, they seem to be repelled by light, so I have kept fires and torches lit while I hunker in my base.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

I found the supplies Tuzin left for me at the drop point, but no other signs of activity. We had agreed that I would meet to check on the progress of his settlement after one standard year, but I had expected more communications, or at least some infrastructure. But no. The supplies were seemingly random items, too, with very little in the way of edible food and no weapons whatsoever. Worse, there was no return infrastructure in place, so I am utterly trapped here, along with Tuzin and whomever else joined the settlement. I half-wondered if the few items I did see had been the products of a disordered mind, as they included several dried and pressed flowers.

With no other option, I made a club out of a piece of sturdy wood and began mapping the area. There was plenty of game, and I was able to hunt a little by clubbing a few creatures that had not yet evolved to fear me, but with no way to cook the meat I resolved to go hungry until I could find some sign of Tuzin.

That was not long in coming. I climbed a hill to the northwest of the drop point and saw structures in the distance, amid a tangle of tall and thorny trees. They were clearly artificial, and well within the means of even people stranded with no supplies to construct, so I hurried in that direction, thinking myself saved.

Far from it.

Before long, I noticed that the buildings were in disrepair, caked with dust, and beginning to disintegrate. The settlement appeared like it could have supported a dozen or more at its height. I soon found that it supported exactly zero when what I surmised to be a friendly face in a window burst out as I called to it. The remains of one of Tuzin’s settlers, perhaps. Perhaps even Tuzin. But now it was a mockery of the human form: bloated, discolored, reeking of mold and decay, and shambling forward with impossible speed. I was just barely able to fend it off with my club, landing a few solid blows until staving its head in.

Whatever happened here, there were no survivors. I selected one of the sturdiest buildings, and–mindful of the dark shadows of other unfortunates that I saw moving about in the other structures–I barricaded myself inside, resolving to gather what supplies I could in relative safety before striking out.

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

“As you can see, the dwarven artisans of Deepwell were made of tuff stuff,” the guide said, chuckling at his own pun. “The rock here is called tuff, and despite its name it is quite soft–which is good for tunneling but bad for stability. This is why you see these support columns everyplace, brought in from the outside and made of harder stone.”

“What did the dwarves use Deepwell for?” a tourist asked from near the back. “Did they live down here?”

“Not most of the time,” the guide replied. “I know the legend is that the dwarves are born underground, but in reality they lived on the surface most of the time, since it’s the only place you can grow crops and they needed oxygen to breathe. No, the Takthian dwarves only retreated into the caves in times of war, but they kept them carefully stocked for just such a time.”

Another tourist, this one closer to the front: “Do any dwarves still live in Deepwell?”

“No,” the guide said. “All the dwarves were sent to Takth, and all the elves living in Takth were expelled here to Leizna, after the great Takth-Leizna war. We sent them home.”

“They lived here for 2000 years and carved these tunnels out over a hundred lifetimes; how is Takth their home?”

“No further questions,” the guide said. “Now, who wants to see the dwarven gravestones?”

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!

It wasn’t long into Mary Summerall’s semester at Deerton High School when she began to suspect that her students were cheating. The history teacher, a firm believer in lecturing and rote memorization, noticed that some of her students were suddenly making 95-100% on their history tests, when the usual average was around 50-60%.

“That’s when I started looking closely at their essay answers,” says Summerall. “The kids knew things that they shouldn’t have known, and their answers were written in an archaic style and meter. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but I had to admit that the kids were drawing upon forbidden ancient knowledge.”

Not until a few weeks later, when Summerall caught one of her seniors in the act, did she realize how they were doing it. The boy had brought an Ouija board into school, and was receiving test answers from the spirit world–from the restless shades of those who actually lived through the historical events on the test.

“After that, I started finding Ouija boards all over the place,” Summerall says. “In desks, in backpacks, and some of the kids even had miniature ones that they taped into their textbooks. I don’t know how I’m supposed to teach in an environment like this!”

Eventually, Deerton High was able to solve the problem by having the class take their tests in another classroom, supervised by the School Resource Ghostbuster, Officer Winkeganz. But with only one SRG per school, and with them preoccupied with random locker exorcisms and manning the school’s possession detectors, Summerall and her principal know the solution is not scalable. “We’re just waiting for the other shoe to fall, and for kids to start communing with Sir Isaac Newton for help with their calculus homework,” said Deerton’s principal, Dr. Louine Tulnitz. “It’s going to be a huge problem.”

Critics say that Deerton is just one of many schools struggling with widespread availability of spirit guides and the Ouija boards to communicate with them. While old-fashioned seances used to take hours, with no guarantee of success, newer Ouija boards designed to take advantage of advanced Apparition Intelligence are far faster and far easier to use. And while defenders of spectral assistance–sometimes derisively labeled “specbros”–insist that it is a liberating and morally neutral technology, many disagree.

“I just want the soul of my ancestor to rest in peace,” said Li Jiangjiang, a 132nd-generation lineal descendant of Confucius, upon learning that her forebear had been contacted by a Syracuse junior high student for assistance on a paper for an ethics class. “It’s really disrespectful.”

“It’s just a moral panic,” countered Apparition Intelligence enthusiast and self-proclaimed specbro Luke Mons. “People said the same thing about literacy when it was invented, complained that it was ruining people’s ability to memorize things.” Mons, who is in the process of writing a novel with the assistance of Edgar Allen Poe and Ernest Hemingway, also noted that there was no reason for the specters to be truthful when contacted by Ouija: “They can lie, cheat, mislead, and play practical jokes while dead just as much as they could alive,” he says.

Nevertheless, Deerton and a number of other schools have banned Ouija boards in classrooms due to fears of cheating. Mons, reacting to this, said that competing products like China’s Zhānbǔ board and the Russian Uidzha would simply lap Western products and become impossible to ban, restrict, or control. “The genie is out of the bottle, and it’s granting wishes to everyone who wants answers for their history test,” says Mons. “No amount of ghostbusting is going to change that.”

• Like what you see? Purchase a print or ebook version!