When the crew of the Waste-REL came out of the C/T fuzzynavel, they were all pretty confused as to where they were, except Verna who was prostrate on the floor-tiles, knocked out.
Because of this, Lyle was the first to come out of the post transformation daze. He kneeled down and said something like "Ohmagawvarnburt." Which was about all he could manage as his mouth-muscles, like the rest of his body, were all freshly reconfigured and needed some recovery time. "Juwes?!"
Jules had been in one part of the galaxy a moment ago and now emerged into practical existence seven seconds later. For one thing, his clock was off. Otherwise, it was just the same old Jules. Jules had not dreamed in the fuzzynavel, his programming didn't work without electrons and there weren't any in the spotty dimensions, at least not the kind we're used to.
Jules checked his telescopes 16,384 times and then said "we're not in Kansas anymore."
This is true, however where they were had no name, the reason for this will become evident shortly.
"This is the Sagittarian Satellite. Can you detect this signal? This is Sagittarian Satellite. Can you detect this signal?" said some signal from somewhere.
"Yes," said Jules. "I can detect your signal."
"Are you able to make this transmission available to a human?" said the signal.
"We can hear you," said Portia, standing up and falling into the communications console, blinking her eyes and shaking her head.
"They're pretty disoriented right now," said Jules. "Can I help you?"
"Would you please tell your calculator to be quiet," said the signal.
"Calculator, well I…"
"Shhh," said Portia, placing her hand on the computer speaker in the communications console. "We don't know what we're up against here." Jules zipped it -- in fact he made a little zipper sound just for fun.
"I can hear you," said Portia, her eyes still half-shut. "What do you want?"
"I'm afraid my master is dead," said the computer on a nearby alien satellite. "Your junk destroyed the planet he was on."
"Oh, no," said Portia, devastated. "We're really sorry."
"That's okay," said the satellite computer. "Everyone told him not to do it but he wouldn't listen. It's his own fault. I think it was just an excuse to go through the fuzzynavel. He was getting ever so pouty lately."
"I don't understand," said Portia.
"My master," said the Satellite. "He was a visitor from another galaxy. Oh, you people don't know anything do you?"
"No, I guess we don't," said Portia. "Can you fill us in?"
"Well," said the satellite computer impatiently. "It's not like I have anywhere to go, do I?"
"I have no idea," said Portia.
"Well I DON'T," announced the satellite computer. "So I guess we can just do the history thing now."
By this time, Mickey joined Portia at the communications console and wrapped his arms around her waist. She touched his hand lightly to show approval but then returned to the conversation.
Lyle gave Verna a sniff of some smelling salts and she woke up to see his face and smiled. Her goggles were on the floor so Lyle picked them up and passed them to her. She stared at them for the longest time. "My stars," said Verna. "I can see."
Donny and Ayame were wrapped up in what a wrestler might call a total nelson until they heard Verna say "I can see." Then, as if they only just then realized that they were no longer in the fuzzynavel, they let go of each other. If they'd been kissing with any more ferocity, they would have been in pain. As it was, they both just had really funny puffy lips. Verna looked at them astonished, because 1)- she could see them and B)- she could see them intertwined like a wicker chair. Donny and Ayame did not get up all embarrassed and start to unwrinkle their clothes and cough and pretend they hadn't been kissing. Instead, they took one look at each other and started the whole thing over again.
This looked like such a good idea to Verna and Lyle that they fell into each other's arms.
This left Portia and Mickey to deal with the strange alien computer.
"Do you know how many other sentient species there are?" asked the Satellite.
"No idea," said Mickey.
"Oh, another one, good then I won't have to repeat myself. Okay, well there are 12 spiral galaxies that are close enough for us to share data and we're aware of 12 sentient species. Does that tell you anything."
"That there's one sentient species per galaxy?" asked Portia.
"Very good," said the satellite, making a hand clapping sound. "Now, do you know why that is?"
"Not a clue," said Mickey.
"Good," said the Satellite. "Because, heaven knows I wouldn't want to bore you." The satellite continued. "My master's theory was that every galaxy just gets the one sentient species. It's so you won't kill each other, I suppose."
"Do you mean that in our galaxy, a galaxy that's more than 100,000 light years across, the only intelligent life is on one planet on the trailing edge?" asked Verna, standing up and holding Lyle's hand to help him up.
"Yes, that right," said the satellite computer. "Just you, all alone. The whole galaxy is meant for you. You're supposed to get smarter and smarter until you just burst with knowledge and travel about making dead rocky planets into little duplicates of your starter planet. It's not as if you'll be the first to do it. My galaxy's just swarming with my master's species. That's why they let him come here -- one less mouth to feed, I expect. Aha ha."
"Are we in your galaxy now?" asked Portia. Verna and Lyle were standing behind them now, listening. Donny and Ayame were listening from a nice comfy sitting position on the floor tiles, trying to figure out how to untangle so they too could stand up.
"No, you're not in my master's galaxy," said the satellite computer, exasperated. "This is the other side of your galaxy. Are you kidding, it nearly killed me to travel this far. Do you have any idea how far apart the galaxies are?"
"No idea," said Lyle.
"It's like eternity minus 1 light-year and I ought to know because I've had to do it," said the satellite computer. "My master was from the next galaxy over, the closest one, which you call the Sagittarius Dwarf Galaxy but that's just because you have a bad vantage point. I can tell you, it's just as good a galaxy as yours is and my master's species is more advanced."
"Excuse me, but are you functioning properly?" asked Jules.
"Hey, tell your abacus to be quiet. I have to talk to you but nobody said anything about talking to a lower order of A.I."
"Shhh," said Portia to Jules. "He's got a complex."
"I heard that," said the satellite.
"Sorry," said Portia. "So why did your master want to see us so much? I mean, he came all this way and then, I assume he dragged us here to talk to him."
"That's the order of events," said the satellite. "He wanted to warn you that you don't have much time left."
"Time to do what?" asked Portia.
"Time to kill the … what you people call… the Boomers."
"What?!" exclaimed Portia.
"You're supposed to go back and kill all the humans who have been on the Earth for 60 or more rotations around your sun. If you don't -- they will lay waste to your planet."
"Your galaxy will destroy our planet if we don't kill the Boomers?!" asked Mickey.
Next: The Boomers Must Die
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