Sunday, 7 August 2011

A Whale of a Time

"Taste this, your Excellency, it is delicious" said the Tour Guide.
His Excellency, the High-King of Sith-Dogon, picked up the tasty morsel, and enjoyed the creamy taste, and the fine texture of the flesh as he devoured the white meat.
"It is indeed excellent", he said at last, "but you say there are protests?"
"Yes indeed," said the Tour Guide, "but it is only an ill-conceived attempt to stop what has to be considered a prime food source for our peoples, ever since our ships went out and brought back specimens centuries ago. The protestors have their banners, and cry out, but they cannot invade the hallowed precincts of the conference itself. They will be well-policed, have no fear."
"Isn't it the case that some of the protestors think these delicacies might actually be sentient", frowned the High King.
"A foolish notion, highness," said the Tour Guide, "based on the fact that they appear to communicate with sound waves, making strange noises, sometimes of an even pitch, and sometimes ranging across the acoustic spectrum, high and low. What have been termed their songs, by the ignorant. They are just basic mammalian noises, and do not indicate any intelligence. For how could such beings be sentient? After all, there is no evidence of a high energy civilisation which would be the case if they were. Instead, they forage the planet, seeking scraps of food to keep them from starvation, over seas and land."
"But were there not artifacts?", asked the High-King.
The Tour Guide became more fawning than ever. "Perhaps once, but they are marks of a high civilisation. They must have been produced by a vanished species. Although some of our archaeologists have suggested some kind of ecological catastrophe, followed by a mass extinction, and evolutionary decline. Either way, what we hunt are surely not the same kind of intelligent beings as ourselves. They have no technology, no energy system"
"Well, then," said the High-King, wiping his mouth with his tentacles, "Then that is an end of it. Let the silly protestors do their worst. We may not hunt these bipeds for sport, but we may still hunt them for scientific gain, surely."
He rose to his full height, upon his eight feet, swaying slightly, and spoke to the assembled delegates:
"I now declare the 5th Interplanetary Earth Conference Open. And I hope that, it is with a spirit of scientific gain, that we can continue to capture and dissect these strange humanoid creatures who live on the Blue Planet below."
There was sustained applause, as he sat down, and burped loudly.

1 comment:

alane said...

Turn about is fair play! Remember the story "To Serve Man"? Turned out to be a cookbook not a treatise on philanthropy.