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It was a black Sabbath indeed, 9 October 2185*, when the first of the Supernauts was created! Too cunning by half, the meddlesome band of renegade Imperial scientists, obscurely known as the Distant Spoons?, thought to tackle the Crew Deficit Problem by cloning "the finest spacejack in seven systems" and creating a new breed of humans that could take care of the scut work of the spaceways.

The "finest spacejack" they obtained was the amazing Trey Parker, the Portsmouth Polymath -- though he was not yet known by that well-earned appellation! Trey was, alas for the experiment, gayer than a day in May, and it was not until the Spoons had tried and retried the cloning process a thousand times, each time thinking that there was something "wrong" with their process (in that the results weren't actually all that interested in the reproductive efforts necessary to "create a new breed of humans"), that one of them thought to interview the initial donor -- who, having been rolled for the cheek cell sample in the first place, had no idea of what they were talking about, and killed several of the pursuing scientists before they were able to determine where they'd erred.

After that, it was a matter of some quick genetic, biochemical, and memetic tweaks to resolve the issue. Such diddling with the raw material were performed with alacrity at the Spoons' Moon base, since rumors of the experiments had reached the ear of Victoria herself, who, profoundly prudish, was not amused! (That the Spoons had a moon base despite the dangers therein? shows that they were either very good at hiding, or far goofier than is commonly thought even now.)

Alas, the results of their further manipulation, while producing someone whose interest in personally perpetuating the species was profoundly present, also resulted in someone whose interests were solely oriented toward that end, making the new line of product a less-than-optimal spacejack. The Spoons had little choice but to further tinker with the genetic material, leading to various ill-advised efforts to more significantly alter the Trey-alikes.

(The sole good thing to have come out of this matter was, of course, the continuation of the Trey Parker genome from the initial batch. Through dangers and adventures too numerous and breathtaking to relate here, the zestful sole survivor, Trey #947, lived to be crackerjack geneticist, obstetrician, memetic encoder?, and stage magician. His final trick, in 2263*, was production of clone Trey #947a -- whose grand-clone, ironically, became an Anchor for the Immortal Empress herself. But I digress ...)

The problem with letting yourself indulge in gene-tweaking and artificial attempts to improve the species is that you bypass several million (or, if the Tokay Hypothesis? is correct, at least several thousand) years of evolutionary testing. That the Distant Spoons created a race of super-beings, uniquely well-adapted to space travel (and other pursuits?), is unquestionable. That the resulting post-human creatures considered human beings to be the "old model," deserving of replacement (if not occasional consumption alongside a dry Shiraz and a bit of wasabi), was, perhaps, inevitable! Indeed, there are those who claim that it was, also ironically, a solitary Supernaut (sponsored by a horribly miscalculating Dark Imperator) who assassinated Immortal Victoria, leading to the Rollback ...

-- from To the Strong -- the Stars! by "A.C." Casey, Chronicler of Marvels

SEE ALSO: Macropterous Malacoids of the Moon?, Marianas Trench City?, Memetic Encoding?, Trey Parker, Victoria Regina


This is an S entry in the Lexicon of the Lost 500 Years


A note to whoever picks this entry: it was inspired by the 1000 Homo DJ's cover of the Black Sabbath song "Supernaut," whose lyrics(approve sites) are as follows:

I want to reach out and touch the sky
I want to touch the sun
But I don't need to fly
I'm gonna climb up every mountain of the moon
And find a distant man a-waving his spoon
I've crossed the ocean, turned every bend
I found the crossing near a golden rainbow's end
I've been through magic and through life's reality
I've lived a thousand years and it never bothered me
Got no religion, don't need no friends
Got all I want and I don't need to pretend
Don't try to reach me, 'cause I'd tear up your mind
I've seen the future and I've left it behind

I think the two lines I put in bold really say it all. --Dan Krashin?

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Page last modified on August 02, 2006, at 12:31 AM by DaveHill

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