Tap, tap, tap…
Since the beginning of all known existence, we have been observing, nudging, and directing the advancement of societies and civilizations. Receiving the authority and title from the Council of Eight Cosmic Overlords required eons of rigorous study and regimented training. It was our unique abilities and natural talents that initially separated us from the eligible pool of Dimensional Voyagers across all existence. Above all, gaining the trust and approval from each member of the Council allowed us to stand confidently before our fellow Voyagers to take the sacred oath as Cosmic Overseers.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
Our tactics of interaction have remained the same: a dream, a voice, a mirage, a ghostly encounter. In spite of their intended limitations, the Overlords' Articles of Engagement have reigned true, unchallenged, serving their purpose.
Like most, the universe I govern has many intrinsic flaws—intergalactic trafficking, genetic cleansing, planetary genocides, and nefarious scientific advances. All of these illicit activities and criminal behaviors have remained contained within its barrier walls and have not necessitated outside intervention.
Recent events and actions taken have brought to light not only questioning the Overlords' fundamental articles, measurements, and laws, but also our own definition of existence moving forward.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
This deposition I'm presenting to the Council of Eight Cosmic Overlords and fellow Cosmic Overseers requires extraordinary care and debate. What hangs in the balance transcends anything we have ever deliberated. We are venturing into uncharted territory, brushing against the edge of the absurd and forbidden. I plead the Overlords hear out all evidence and weigh the irreversible consequences of their decision before rendering final judgment.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
At the center of this unprecedented disaster are two unlikely suspects, Mi-guel and Hea-ther of the Gu-tier-rez clan. By current standards, these beings register below what is considered eligible for trial or discussion. In normal circumstances, I would emphatically agree with the Council and my fellow Cosmic Overseers. But the irreparable damage and violations committed by these beings, intentional or otherwise, dictates further scrutiny, as the evidence presented will support.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
The beings originated from the celestial body Zed Alpha Omega-3, shortened to Zed-3, in the Zed Alpha Omega-10 star system, or simply referred to as Zed-10. The local inhabitants commonly call it “dirt” or “ground.” The translation is still up for debate.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
As the Council already expected from members of this young star system, Mi-guel and Hea-ther's intellect or abilities do not currently register a score in any metric of science, mathematics, alchemy, medicine, sorcery, witchcraft, occult, extrasensory perception, or psychokinesis—past, present, or future.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
In order to place them eligible for trial, a more unconventional approach for measuring intellect needed to be taken. Their combined scores were compared with a subset collection of neighboring inhabitants from a tiny area of land mass on “dirt” called Ba-kers-field Cal-if-for-nia. Extracting this data, the readings were at least now registering in the negative. This indicated that I was getting closer to my theoretical conclusion. By reducing the sampling within the past fifty Zed-10 star rotations, this extremely tiny sampling finally moved their combined scores slightly above zero.
As the Council and member Cosmic Overseers would agree, this is still too low to register worthy of entry in this Court. Intriguingly, I took my research in an unorthodox direction and decided to scrap all previous forms of measurements. It was a great challenge to find some mark of excellence that separated them from all other beings on “dirt,” let alone from beings in any corner of the universe. This led me to the following remarkable discovery.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
To my surprise, Mi-guel and Hea-ther actually scored extremely high on very discrete localized forms of knowledge never before considered. Specifically, on topics within a varying range of geographical coordinates. These previously unimportant, unique forms of data points are where I believe ‘paydirt' was hit. No pun intended.
A large sampling of cerebral wave readings from citizens in Zed-3 scored consistently high in the following unique topics—‘pop culture,’ ‘street slang,’ ‘random facts,’ digital hieroglyph pictographs called ‘mee-ms,’ various fictional material—written and visually graphical, audio visual entertainment, memorabilia collecting, localized hobbies and passions, athletic event trivia, gained wisdom, and the specific subject matter related to the occupation assigned individually for each being. Some, if not all the topics listed, overlap and combine to form markers of intelligence that are collectively unique to each individual, and to the region and time they are in.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
These previously insignificant data markers are presented to the Council as a new form of intelligence classification. I would like to be the first on record to call this collected class: Social-Geographical Driven Intelligence. What the locals on ‘dirt’ call ‘geek shit.’ Applying this ‘geek shit’ to various civilizational models throughout my universe has essentially flipped our current form of measurement gathering on its head.
Is a civilization highly intelligent, by our standards, when mathematics, science, and sorcery are exceptional and ‘geek shit’ is ranked low, or is the reverse a truer measure of an individual or star system’s collective intellect? Based on the actions of a few extraordinary below-zero-scoring beings, this topic needs to be debated in great detail.
Ding! Tap, tap, tap…
I stared at the type-wri-ter, at the half-finished deposition that was supposed to convince the Council of Eight Cosmic Overlords that I hadn't completely screwed up my assignment. The words looked inadequate. Hollow. How do you defend choices that made perfect sense in the moment but look catastrophically reckless in hindsight?
The answer: You present the evidence and let them decide.
You show them what happened, step by step, choice by choice, consequence by consequence. You lay out the timeline of events and trust that somewhere in their ancient, crystalline consciousnesses, they'll see what you saw: beings who deserved a chance.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Whether they agree is another matter entirely.
The Council doesn't rule based on sentiment. They rule based on mathematical certainty, probability matrices, and the cold calculus of cosmic stability. My subjects either fit within acceptable parameters or they don't.
And I'm pretty sure they don't.
Time to finish the official report and face the consequences.
Tap, tap, tap…
Regardless, these ‘geek shit,’ ‘dirt’-lings have propelled us into an extraordinary odyssey transcending our own comprehension of existence. In short, we need to rewrite our instruction manual for existing or face our own destruction. The Council needs to immediately come to terms with the shortcomings of our laws, measurements, and rules of engagement and make the necessary amendments. The perceived damage created by these ‘geek shit’ hu-man beings and their offspring will forever change…
Ding!
"Jeff, what the hell are you doing with that ancient thing?"
"Chad, it's called a qwer-ty type-wri-ter. A Zed-3 invention. I'm prepping my deposition."
"That sounds awkward and backwards. Conjure it up. Pickle-ball’s happening tonight. We’re on the same team."
"I wish, cosmeer, but I'm drowning in this mess right now. Gotta make my case to the Overlords."
"Right, forgot you're in deep shit. Does that thing have to make that annoying-ass bell noise?"
"Not deep shit, only a snag. It's supposed to ding when the line ends. I can make it sound like whatever, but I dig the retro vibe. Tune it out if it bugs you."
"It's not just me. Oscar, Brandy, and Laquisha are all bitching about it. They sent me to tell you to knock it off."
"Seriously? I never say jack about your marathon binge-watching every show that's ever existed across all realities."
"That's different. That's research. Some shows you gotta watch like a thousand times to catch all the layers... like that Nova-Prime drama series 'Quantum Hearts'? Pure genius."
"Okay, whatever. And I never complain about Oscar's non-stop concert thing. An eternity of music from every civilization ever."
"Oscar's got taste. Remember when he discovered 'Shattered Prisms' from the crystalline dimension? That death metal was fire."
"Fair, some of his picks are decent. But remember that underwater band? 'The Blurpy Gurgle Gargles'? That concert was legendary. They literally made the ocean sing."
"Right? They were way better live than recorded. But seriously, what about Laquisha's cooking obsession? She's making like fifty dishes every hour. My whole sector smells like exotic spices."
"Are you complaining? That pizza from her Italian phase was incredible. You ate half of it yourself."
"Pizza's universal. Found it in almost every reality we monitor. But that Terra-Beta fusion thing she made last week? I'm still tasting colors."
"That's the point. She's pushing culinary boundaries across dimensions. It's art."
"Art that nearly gave me synesthesia poisoning. And don't get me started on Brandy's situation. That porn obsession of hers is getting weird."
"Yeah, that's intensely specific. Some things you can't unsee. But there was this one episode where—"
"NOPE. Not going there. We've all seen too much already."
"Fair enough. So what's this big presentation about anyway? You've been super secretive."
"Can't discuss details, but let's just say I might have bent too many rules... done myself in this time. The Overlords aren't thrilled."
"Bent rules? That's our motto. We bend rules every day. That's basically the job description."
"This is beyond what we normally do. This might be my termination. Can’t say anymore. I have to get this shot right..."
"Oh shit. Like, reality-breaking snapping or just really-pissed-off Overlords snapping?"
"Look, the hearing's tomorrow and I gotta get this testimony done. This could make or break everything..."
ATTENTION ALL COSMIC OVERSEERS. REPORT TO THE ASSEMBLY HALL FOR MANDATORY CONVERGENCE. COSMIC OVERSEER JEFF, PRESENT YOURSELF BEFORE THE COUNCIL OF EIGHT COSMIC OVERLORDS IN THE CHAMBER OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT IMMEDIATELY WITH YOUR DEPOSITION.
"Ugh, fuck! See? The Overlords are breathing down my neck already!"
"Damn, Jeff. Chamber of Eternal Judgment? That's serious cosmic detention-level shit."
"Tell me about it. Last time someone got called there was when Marcus accidentally erased that entire timeline of talking sea porpoises."
"Wait, that was an accident? I thought he did that on purpose because they kept asking philosophical questions."
"Whatever, I'm finishing this first. The Overlords can wait."
"You're playing with fire. They don't like being kept waiting."
"They've been alive for eons. Five more minutes won't kill them."
Cosmic Overseers start crowding around Jeff's desk, drawn by drama. Laquisha storms over. "Jeff! Wrap this nerd shit up already! My situation's exploding and I need Overlords' attention like yesterday! Twelve sectors are totally fucked because of my project!"
Chad jumps in, waving his arms. "Back off, Laquisha! My mess is way bigger! Fifty sectors about to implode and it's spreading fast! I should go after Jeff!"
"Since when do we take turns for disasters?" Oscar pushes forward. "You Cosmies are amateurs! My experiment just broke reality in a hundred sectors! I should go first 'cause mine's actually universe-ending!"
Brandy crosses her arms. "Universe-ending? Please! My thing is dissolving the fabric of existence across seventy-five sectors! Jeff's small-time drama can wait!"
Laquisha snaps. "Fabric dissolving? That's cute! Mine's rewriting the genetic code of entire galaxies! It's like evolution on fast-forward!"
Chad throws his hands up, voice rising. "Genetic code? My core collapse is gonna create a chain reaction of black holes! We're talking gravitational apocalypse here!"
Oscar laughs. "Black holes? I'm merging parallel dimensions! Your problems are gonna be irrelevant when reality stops existing!"
Brandy snarls. "Parallel dimensions? I'm eating the building blocks of matter itself! Your little rifts are nothing compared to molecular dissolution!"
Laquisha interrupts. "Did you just say you're eating matter? That's not even scientifically possible!"
"Everything's scientifically possible when you're working at my level, honey."
"Your level? Bitch, please. I've been doing impossible shit since before you figured out how to manipulate aether!"
Chad waves his arms. "Can we focus here? I've got civilizations evacuating entire star systems because of me!"
Oscar grins. "At least your civilizations still exist in one piece. Mine are scattered across seventeen different realities!"
The other Cosmic Overseers exchange worried glances. Even in their competitive bickering, they recognize when someone's really in trouble.
Jeff slams his hands on the typewriter, causing the bell to ring frantically. "SHUT THE FUCK UP! All of you! This isn't a pissing contest about who screwed up their universe worse! I'm trying to save my ass here and you're all being drama queens!"
"We heard that!" Laquisha calls out.
"Good! Maybe now you'll give me…"
SECOND SUMMONS: COSMIC OVERSEER JEFF TO THE CHAMBER OF ETERNAL JUDGMENT. THE COUNCIL OF EIGHT COSMIC OVERLORDS AWAITS.
Jeff groans. "Jesus Christ, they're worse than overbearing parents..."
“Who’s this Jesus?” Chad asked in confusion.
“Maybe that’s the problem here…”
?
Cosmic Overseer Jeff knows your questions and here are the first three answers, in no particular order…
Why Yes, of course…
No. Wait, I mean, HELL NO!...
And, don't hold your breath…
Now, let's get to the behind the scenes shit. Yes, I enjoy cussing. It feels good and kills boredom. No surprise, the reason for these tales are to pass my legacy onto my offspring…
Ha got you!! I only have you fools to watch over, or not. Shh, don't tell Child Protective Services.
So, about the next chapter. Yes, it's what you were thinking, but not exactly. You'll have to wait and see. I'll admit to one flaw, I allow myself to suck at speed-typing. It kills boredom.
If you were in my shoes, you'd understand. Until next time. ~ Jeff loves you...maybe.
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