The Egg (by Andy Weir)

[Bagginz]

That shit aint short. That shit make the script to The Last Of The Mohicans look like the contents of a Fortune Cookie.

[Godbody]

Well nobody is forcing you to read it. I think it's a very eye-opening read and you take away whatever you want from it...

[KingBankstou]

saw / read this already on highdeas. thats wassup though got alotta time on ya hands -_-

[Godbody]

When you realize what's important and you want to help, you'll make time for it @Pronto_Banks

[KingBankstou]

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of the
planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all the way through.
They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals?
The messages to the stars."

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them.
The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made
the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to
believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I 'm telling you. These creatures are the only
sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the Orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence
that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several
of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea
the life span of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the
Weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the
Weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way
through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of
meat!"

"So... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The
meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Finally, Yes. They are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to
get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"So what does the meat have in mind."

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the
universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat?"

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio.
'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"

"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know
how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping
their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through
their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all
sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear,
or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget
the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact
with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's
it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with
here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers,
but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel theough C
space, which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility
of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you sid it yourself, who want to meet meat? And the ones who
have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure they
won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads
and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat's dream."

"And we can mark this sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others?
Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class
nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotation ago, wants
to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe
would be if one were all alone.

---------- Post added at 12:05 AM ---------- Previous post was at 12:04 AM ----------

you are still ducking me.

i can post stories too


neither one helped anybody in the thread

but they are both helping you DUCK me !

[Phroxen]

Originally Posted by Pronto_Banks

"They're made out of meat."

Just had to read that line and recognized the story. I read that shit in like.. High School and fucking died laughing.

[KingBankstou]

yea shit is funny

[Bagginz]

Lmao @ they communicate by flapping their meat