A Klingon, a Vogon, and a Time Lord Walk Into a Bar...
Apr 12, 2015 10:22:40 GMT -6
Mystic Wanderer, Doug, and 8 more like this
Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2015 10:22:40 GMT -6
To Whom it May Concern:
This is the introduction to a story. As such, any "non-story" posts in this thread will be removed - either deleted or moved to a more appropriate venue, in order to insure the flow of the story as it unfolds. The "more appropriate venue" will be considered to be the Working Thread for this story - a companion to this story where difficulties in the story line can be worked out, ideas may be floated before entering story canon, and praise heaped upon the writers.
New writers entering this thread are urged to post there first, to introduce the rest of the writers to your character before setting them upon the stage.
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In the swirling mass that is an average spiral galaxy, there are many currents. There is an ebb and flow, there are eddies and whirlpools, and the occasional logjam and the inevitable falls. There are few - if any - spiral galaxies more average than the Milky Way galaxy, home to a species known as "humans", among a plethora of other species both known and unknown.
Out at the edge of the space known to humans, there floats a space station. It amounts to less than a speck in the galaxy's eye - much less! - and orbits a supremely ordinary planet in a spectacularly ordinary star system in a barely known quadrant of human space populated paradoxically by very few humans and a vast quantity of not-humans. The space station, floating here in the shiny blackness of nothingness, snuggling in to an entirely unknown vastness beyond itself, is in reality the cutting edge of the advance of, if not exactly "civilization", then perhaps yet another of those ebbs and flows of movement that civilizations are known for. Perhaps even two - or more! - of those movements in competition and heading in opposite directions. that is, after all, what currents sometimes do.
It is an extraordinarily ordinary place - and may, at times, even sit in some need of repair.
Only Time will tell... and Time may not be in a talking mood at any given instant. It's all relative, I suppose.
This is the introduction to a story. As such, any "non-story" posts in this thread will be removed - either deleted or moved to a more appropriate venue, in order to insure the flow of the story as it unfolds. The "more appropriate venue" will be considered to be the Working Thread for this story - a companion to this story where difficulties in the story line can be worked out, ideas may be floated before entering story canon, and praise heaped upon the writers.
New writers entering this thread are urged to post there first, to introduce the rest of the writers to your character before setting them upon the stage.
===============================================
In the swirling mass that is an average spiral galaxy, there are many currents. There is an ebb and flow, there are eddies and whirlpools, and the occasional logjam and the inevitable falls. There are few - if any - spiral galaxies more average than the Milky Way galaxy, home to a species known as "humans", among a plethora of other species both known and unknown.
Out at the edge of the space known to humans, there floats a space station. It amounts to less than a speck in the galaxy's eye - much less! - and orbits a supremely ordinary planet in a spectacularly ordinary star system in a barely known quadrant of human space populated paradoxically by very few humans and a vast quantity of not-humans. The space station, floating here in the shiny blackness of nothingness, snuggling in to an entirely unknown vastness beyond itself, is in reality the cutting edge of the advance of, if not exactly "civilization", then perhaps yet another of those ebbs and flows of movement that civilizations are known for. Perhaps even two - or more! - of those movements in competition and heading in opposite directions. that is, after all, what currents sometimes do.
It is an extraordinarily ordinary place - and may, at times, even sit in some need of repair.
Only Time will tell... and Time may not be in a talking mood at any given instant. It's all relative, I suppose.