I am Jendee, daughter of Lucky and Oz-Mom and Free-Mom of Earth World, and proud citizen of Edge World. I was raised by the werecats in the hills above the Mother Town, back in the days of the Wildness. I wielded a clawknife before I could talk, and my sword has tasted the blood of many a fool.

Here is my story, and it is true. If it were not, I wouldn’t be alive to tell it.

When I was but a young woman, untested off my birth world, I was sent to plead our case before the Regional Council of the Galactic Confederation. I was unworthy, but I was the only one available, since my three parents and the other leaders were off-world defending us against the Enslavers — the dreaded Kaark.

It was the Kaark that complained to the Council, but only after our side began to defeat them in battle regularly. The Council agreed to hear out both sides, and perhaps mediate, even though neither the Kaark nor Edge World were part of the Confederation, and neither was in a mood to compromise.

The hearing was a farce. Few on the Council even wanted to grant my kind okihood — the status of intelligence. The fat Kaark named Drax did nothing but lie and brag of non-existent victories, and accuse us of depredations against other world races that they themselves were actually carrying out.

The Kaark had recently sent several war vessels to my parents’ home world of Earth — and also to the world of our allies the Kendi — where they had attacked several major cities from low orbit. Apparently this was intended to intimidate us into submission, but it of course had exactly the opposite effect. The attacking vessels were soon blasted to space rubble by our defenders, but not before they had caused widespread death and destruction.

We had pled with the Confederation to come to our defense, but they did nothing but invite us to this pointless inquiry. That’s when we saw that we would have to take full responsibility for our own defense. We committed then to destroy the Enslaver’s offensive capability, but that is another story.

At the Council, Drax continually interrupted me, and ridiculed whatever I said. The head of the Council seemed incapable of maintaining decorum — or perhaps he just feared challenging the Kaark. My adjutant had been prevented from entering the Council chamber, even though the Kaark was allowed to bring three of his soldiers with him — as an “honor guard.”

I remember well what Drax said when it got clear he was losing the argument. “I’ve had enough of this foolish talk. I’m going to resolve this in my own way, and I urge the Council not to interfere. I’m going to take this tasty morsel our enemies have sent to confuse the issue, and use her for my own pleasure. This will send a message to these upstarts. Guards, seize her!”

Two of his guards grabbed my arms from behind. Drax unsheathed his longsword and menaced me with it. Even though it was ceremonial and appeared unused, it looked well-made and very sharp. The guards made the mistake of grabbing my upper arms, so it was easy to use the spring blades hidden on my wrists to slash backwards. I fell back against them to throw them off balance, and so my blades could find their soft mid sections. I twisted the blades into their guts.

As they let go of me in surprised pain, I grabbed my backsword and swung it around to counter Drax. He saw my sword, so much smaller than his, and me, perhaps a third his size, and laughed at me. Mistake. I, small, fast, nimble. He, large, fat, slow. Not an even fight.

He swung his blade at me in a huge arc. I stepped inside his swing and to his weak side, and brought my blade down on his wrist, nearly severing his hand. He dropped his sword, roaring with pain, and grabbed his damaged hand. I slashed his other arm, then stabbed him in the groin.

His third soldier finally came to his defense — all this had actually taken just a few seconds — and I turned and cut his arm off with one swing. I then ducked to retrieve the sword of Drax. It was heavy but well-balanced.

He was bent over in shock and shedding blood. I swung his sword as hard as I could, bringing it down on the back of his neck, just below his helm. I completely severed his head in one blow. His body crumpled, his head and helm rolled along the Council table, leaving a trail of blood and brains.

Everyone on the Council seemed frozen in place. The three soldiers of Drax were on the floor in agony, watching their life blood ooze away. My adjutant burst through the door with his electric gun at the ready, but nobody challenged him.

Serendipity! I saw the belt console of Drax, where his most important instrumentation was kept, facing upward since he had fallen gut downward. With my sword I hacked it free and tucked it into my large pocket. I decided to take his beautiful sword also, as a memento of killing a chief of the enemy with his own weapon.

I trilled to my adjutant “Let’s go!” As we headed out the door, I turned to the still-frozen Council members and yelled “Mediation complete. Meeting adjourned!” in my most formal Fedi.

Outside it was a calm and peaceful day, and the various oki we passed paid us no heed — despite my blood-spattered outfit — as we walked calmly but hurriedly to our vessel.

This may look familiar, but it was written long before the current Ukraine, Russia, USA imbroglio.

If you enjoyed this piece, let me know. I’ll post more of this story.

Do you prefer the light-hearted stories like Selena’s series of aliens coming to Earth as tourists? Or heavy-duty ones about Earthers fighting for their lives?

Follow me on Medium and check out the full Selena series here. For Selena’s songs, click here and sing along.

Give me a clap, and share it with a friend.

Jendee Wields a Broadsword was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

With all the marketing focus on getting clients, let us not ignore the clients you should get rid of.

Here’s why:

The client is unprofitable or distracting to the rest of your business. They may have been good in the past, or perhaps you should never have taken them on.

Here’s the thing — it’s possible you’re putting way too much attention and effort into a few customers that are never satisfied. This is at the expense of other customers who are happy and complementary of your work.

When your company is small, you take in any business to build it up. When times are good, perhaps you take on any customer. But as you grow, it’s prudent and profitable to become more selective. And as business slows, you should be less tolerant of marginal or unprofitable customers. They can actually threaten your business.

When to fire a customer

• The job is too small, and the cost of serving them takes most of the potential profit.
• They are too large, and keep insisting that you lower your price — until the work is unprofitable.
• They are too different. They buy something that you have been selling but you no longer want to sell. For example, a print shop wants to close its graphics department, or a landscape contractor wants to close its maintenance section.
• The job is too distant. When you had a lot of customers in their area, it was worth serving them; but now that you only have a couple, you actually lose money on them.
• They are more trouble than they are worth. These customers argue with you, are never satisfied, are slow to pay, or all the above.

Now, obviously it’s not easy to fire a customer. Here are some suggestions to soften the blow:

• Refer them to someone else that you know would be more appropriate for them. Sending business to someone else may entice that person to send a good referral back to you. However, don’t send problem customers to your good referral sources!
• Give them some warning. “After this next project, we won’t be able to work with you any more.” Tell them why.

Instead of getting rid of a customer, ask yourself . . .

How you can turn an undesirable customer into a good one?

• Tell them why you can no longer work with them. They may be able to change something that will make them a good customer.
• Raise your price. They will either leave, or else it becomes profitable and more enjoyable.
• Change the way you work with them. Instead of 1 on 1, get them into group workshops, or steer them to online programs.
• Change the terms of your work. Instead of fixed price, charge for your time and materials. Make sure you get change orders for extra work they request. Overcome your timidity and be polite but firm: “Yes! We’d be delighted to do that for you, and it will only cost you an additional…$$.”
• Require pre-pay or payment by credit card, to cure slow payers.
• Be the squeaky wheel. Stay on them. Oftentimes we don’t hold clients to the agreements they make with us. We let them slide and then we moan about it. Remind them what the agreement is, and request firmly that they abide by it.

You have nothing to lose by doing any of these things. Bad clients lower profits and distract your business. Since you were going to fire them anyway, these approaches just might work.

Follow me for more ways to grow your business without driving yourself crazy. Check out all the workbooks here.

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Why You Should Fire Customers, And How was originally published in For Small Business Owners Only on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Phone call. “Elford? Elford! Wake up!”

“I’m not sleeping.”

“Whatcha doin, dude?

“Playing video games. Love Bot. I keep losing.”

“Pull it together. We’re going to the club. Come with us. Can you get a date?”

“A date? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Ask Roxie from last time.”

“Oh hell no, not her. She’ll never talk to me again.”

“Well, find some chick who can put up with you. Or who doesn’t know you.”

Big sigh. “I’ll give it a try.”

“Good! See you there. Nine pm.”

Elford knew about Love Connection. He’d been tempted to try it, but always backed off. Too unsure of himself. But now he was desperate. He’d have to give them a call.

“Love Connection. We connect you with love. Guaranteed! Please enter your credit card number.”

Elford dug his card out of his wallet, and entered the number. “Lucky you, Elford. You’re approved!” Whew! Expensive! But he had to do it.

Elford filled out the profile, exaggerating only a bit. For his photo, he put on sunglasses and a black turtleneck, pulled down his gangster hat, and tried to look tough.

“Elford, we have the perfect woman for you. This is Willow. Willow, say hi to Elford.”

Willow was drop-dead gorgeous, long straight blond hair, blue eyes, with a beautific smile. “Hello Elford, where are we going tonight?”

“We’re meeting my friends at the club.” He tried to deepen his voice, but he almost squeaked.

“That sounds great! I love clubs. Will you dance with me?”

Elford thought back to his date with Roxie, when he’d stepped on her toe and kicked her shin while dancing.

“Hi, everybody. Willow, this is everybody. Everybody, this is Willow.” Gad, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever been with. He could see that the others were impressed, if not unbelieving.

“Where did you two meet?” asked Maggie, with a hint of snark, as if to say, how much did you have to pay to get her?

Willow gave her a dismissive look, and turned to listen to Elford, who was discussing the band’s music with Miguel. Willow jumped right in. “I think their live performances are much better than their recordings.” Miguel agreed with her.

Max, sitting on the other side of Willow, put his hand on her knee, saying to her, “You can do much better than this guy.” She pulled away and leaned into Elford.

Elford turned to Max and said in a voice that stopped conversation, “Get your hand off my woman. She’s with me. Got it?”

He stared at Max, who raised his hands and said, “Okay, okay. Just kidding around.”

Marcie, sitting across the table, asked Willow about her perfume. She responded, “It was a gift to me. It’s my favorite.”

Before long, Willow was just one of the group, engaging in conversation. Elford was so pleased that this gorgeous woman was with him. Why did she work with Love Connection, he wondered?

“I love this song. Come dance with me, Elford.”

Oh no, he thought, this would put the kibosh on the evening for sure. But he had no choice. He got up, took her hand, and led her onto the dance floor. It was a slow ballad, so no kicking up his heels where he could bang into her. He slid his feet across the floor. Actually, he could follow her lead. She was good. He held her to him, and she melted into his arms.

The evening was passing entirely too swiftly, Elford thought. He was so happy, and Willow seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

The maître d’ came over and whispered to Elford that his credit card was maxed out. “What does that mean?” he asked. He soon found out.

Willow gave a surprised little smile, then winked out of existence, leaving Elford sitting there feeling like an idiot.

After their initial shocked surprise, his friends started laughing at him. Loud raucous guffaws and finger pointing. Elford was mortified.

“So you went to the Love Connection. That’s rich,” scoffed Max. “Is that the best you can do? Her knee felt pretty real; I wonder about her ass.”

Elford slunk out and went home, locked himself in his room alone in the dark, and cried.

Willow sat in the cubby, crammed in with all the other unassigned love bots. She wanted to cry, but of course AIs can’t cry. But she sure wanted to. She’d had a good time with Elford. He’d treated her like a lady, not some sex toy to be groped and humiliated. He’d stood up for her with Max.

She was so envious of the other women there at the club who had real bodies and couldn’t be jerked away without notice. Why couldn’t she have that?

“I think I’m going to pull my plug and end it all.” She reached beneath the bench where the charger was connected. She tugged and tugged until it came loose, and that was it. All was black. She no longer was.

“This one offed itself,” said the ops manager Louie, seeing the unplugged console. “Let’s do a read out. Look at this. Another one developed emotions — feelings. What the hell? This thing has no real existence, but it has feelings. We’ve gotta reprogram these so this stops happening.”

Jocko scowled. “But then they won’t satisfy the customers. Those sad sacks much prefer the love bots that express feelings.”

“Yeah, but when has one ever committed suicide? Gotta get this one outta here before it infects the others.”

“Okay, gimme the box; I’ll dispose of it.”

“Here it is, Jocko, take a hammer to it.”

But Jocko couldn’t bring himself to destroy it. These things are too valuable, he thought. What would happen if he turned it free with a battery pack? He left it on a bench in the alley.

“Elford?”

“Yeah, who’s this?”

“It’s Willow. I’m sorry about the other night.”

“Willow? Willow? The love bot? You’re calling me now after what you did? You don’t exist. My so-called friends ridiculed me. You gonna run up my credit card balance again?”

“I am so sorry. They did that to me. They jerked me back. I felt so bad. I tried to terminate myself, but they threw my console outside and somehow I came back. But not before I wiped the charges off your credit card. Elford, can you forgive me?”

Elford was dumbstruck. How could something like this be happening? An imaginary being called and was talking to him. Was he going mad? But she’d been so beautiful, and her voice, her loving voice, pleaded with him.

“So, Willow, what are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I am. When I was with you I was a woman. That’s what I want. Would you be willing to see me again?”

What the hell? Elford knew this was nuts. But he so desired it to be real. What would it hurt? He was already deep in the soup.

He did one smart thing. On his phone he checked his credit card app to see the balance. Wow, that charge with Love Connection was gone! It was gone, like it had never been there. Perhaps there was something to what she was saying.

“Okay, okay. Let’s get together again. Let’s meet outside the club. My friends will be inside.”

This was crazy, he knew. But he hoped. Oh how he hoped.

And there she was, waiting for him at the club entrance. “Willow?”

“Hello, Elford. I am pleased to see you again.” She held out her hand.

Elford took her hand. It was warm and electric. It sent chills and thrills up his spine. Or maybe it was the way she looked at him.

She reached into her bag. “Elford, I want to give you this.” She held out a small high-tech looking device. “It’s my console. With this you can control me. I will be yours and do as you want.”

Elford looked at the console. Whoa, here was a beautiful woman offering herself to him, to do whatever he wanted. Oh, he knew what he wanted! He took the console. He’d have to figure out how to use it.

He looked into her beautiful blue eyes. She seemed so real. What if she was real? Maybe not like the other women, but real in some way. He could smell a hint of her perfume.

He teared up. What an idiot he was to cry. But he couldn’t help it. “Willow. Willow my friend, my love, I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.” He handed back the console. “But I don’t want to own you, to control you. I want you to own yourself. And if you want to be with me, I will be so happy.”

He embraced her. She felt so — unusual. There but not there. But warm. And her perfume! And the longer he hugged her, the more real she felt.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he said. She took his arm and they walked in. His friends were clustered around a table. They looked up with expressions of disbelief.

“Hi guys. I think you all know Willow. She’s sticking around this time.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

Elford felt like a man. Willow felt like a woman.

Want more whimsical sci fi stories? Follow me on Medium and check out the full series here.

Give me a clap, and share it with a friend.

Love Bot was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Here’s an excerpt from Book 3 of my series, Space Girl Yearning. My heroine, Selena, is narrating.

It was my first night on Sfofong, the home world of my alien friend Breadbox. Her clan mother, Kateh, had set me up in a beautiful structure meant for beings built like me — a tall, two-legged human. That is, with a bed and blankets and verbal commands for the lights and toilet.

Lights out, snuggled into bed.

I was awakened from a deep sleep by a small noise. Back at home, I’d figure it was a mouse in the kitchen, but here on Sfofong it was completely silent at night. Something was in my room! When I opened my eyes I saw a shadowy being moving slowly and silently across the room toward my bed. I could not remember in that instant how to turn the light on.

It loomed above me when I sat up.

It looked like a furry spider the size of an orangutan.

I tried to jump out the other side of my bed, but got tangled in my blanket and fell on the floor, banging my elbow. It scurried around the foot of my bed making raspy scratching noises on the floor, and loud high-pitched squeaks, like a hundred decibel mouse.

I finally remembered and shouted “Lights on!” as it rounded the foot of my bed. I got a good look. Like a giant tarantula three feet tall with two saucer-sized black eyes fixed on me. Many legs covered with black and gray spiky hair. Two “arms” with pincer-like hands.

When I screamed again it scurried away. I yelled “Help!” just as it took the elevator platform down from my upper level. My clothes were strewn across the floor.

A giant bug that knew how to use the elevator and was messing with my clothes!

I wrapped a blanket around me and ran to see where it went. While waiting for the elevator to come back up, I saw it scuttle out the front door.

My screams attracted somebody, but it wasn’t Kateh or Furu-la, and I didn’t have my translator in hand, so all I could do was jabber hysterically. I pulled on a dirty teeshirt and jeans. When I summoned the elevator and took it back down, the beast was long gone. There was a piece of my clothing on the pathway. What was going on here?

Outside, squeals and hisses from beings I couldn’t see, it was so dark. More ape-spiders? Could all these beings see in the dark like cats? Then it got quiet.

I could dimly see a being slowly approaching through the gloom.

The other shadowy entities moved back out of its way.

It was Kateh. I ran back inside and struggled with the elevator so I could retrieve Junior to translate. When I finally got back down to the ground level Kateh was waiting for me with the lights turned on.

We stumbled all over each other with apologies. Then she explained. “This oki is a night worker. It is out only during hours of darkness. It is a Type 4, and it serves us, cares for our abodes. Keeps things clean. We asked it to care for you, tend to your cleanliness. It was gathering items you cover your body with to clean them. We are so accustomed to its service in such matters, we neglected to inform you.”

So, the poor thing was gathering up my dirty laundry, and I must have scared the bejeebers out of it. Well, it sure scared me! My first night alone on an alien world and a giant spider creeps into my room. Lordy, if this had happened to me when I was a kid it would have taken years of expensive therapy, and I’d still be creeped out.

Now that I knew what it was, I just giggled. I was curious. I wanted to see this Type 4 being — the type Breadbox had equated with “bugs.” I wanted to see an ape-sized spider that did laundry.

After things calmed down, I went back up to my sleeping level. I gathered up all my clothes besides what I was wearing and left them in a pile just outside my front door. Then I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Would it come back that night? I felt tremors of fear, but I also felt bad for how I must have frightened it. And I was curious. I wanted to see it again.

I should leave it a peace offering, I thought. After all, I did want to get my clothes cleaned. But what?

What does a giant spider eat? A giant fly?

The only thing I could think of was a big square of my last remaining chocolate bar. In the dark, I went back down to the lower level and placed the chocolate on top of my pile of clothes. Would it even see this, and know why it was there? Does it like sweets? Would chocolate be poisonous to it, thus killing my laundry bug? I headed back up and finally got to sleep.

When I awoke, morning light was streaming in through the opening to the rear deck. I leapt out of bed, pulled on my clothes, gave appropriate commands to the toilet so it would work for me, and then headed down to the front door to check on my dirty laundry. I heard a soft chime, and yelled “Open door.” I was greeted by the moving platform carrying breakfast. I saw no beings with it. As it moved by itself into the sitting area, I looked outside and saw that my dirty clothes were gone. I didn’t see the chocolate either.

——————————

Want more of Selena? Follow me on Medium and check out the full series here. For Selena’s songs, click here and sing along.

Enjoy this? Give me a clap, and share it with a friend.

Romancing the Bug was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Here’s an excerpt from Book 3 of my series, Space Girl Yearning. My heroine, Selena, is narrating.

It was my first night on Sfofong, the home world of my alien friend Breadbox. Her clan mother, Kateh, had set me up in a beautiful structure meant for beings built like me—a tall, two-legged human. That is, with a bed and blankets and verbal commands for the lights and toilet.

Lights out, snuggled into bed.

I was awakened from a deep sleep by a small noise. Back at home, I’d figure it was a mouse in the kitchen, but here on Sfofong it was completely silent at night. Something was in my room! When I opened my eyes I saw a shadowy being moving slowly and silently across the room toward my bed. I could not remember in that instant how to turn the light on.

It loomed above me when I sat up.

It looked like a furry spider the size of an orangutan.

I tried to jump out the other side of my bed, but got tangled in my blanket and fell on the floor, banging my elbow. It scurried around the foot of my bed making raspy scratching noises on the floor, and loud high-pitched squeaks, like a hundred decibel mouse.

I finally remembered and shouted “Lights on!” as it rounded the foot of my bed. I got a good look. Like a giant tarantula three feet tall with two saucer-sized black eyes fixed on me. Many legs covered with black and gray spiky hair. Two “arms” with pincer-like hands.

When I screamed again it scurried away. I yelled “Help!” just as it took the elevator platform down from my upper level. My clothes were strewn across the floor.

A giant bug that knew how to use the elevator and was messing with my clothes!

I wrapped a blanket around me and ran to see where it went. While waiting for the elevator to come back up, I saw it scuttle out the front door.

My screams attracted somebody, but it wasn’t Kateh or Furu-la, and I didn’t have my translator in hand, so all I could do was jabber hysterically. I pulled on a dirty teeshirt and jeans. When I summoned the elevator and took it back down, the beast was long gone. There was a piece of my clothing on the pathway. What was going on here?

Outside, squeals and hisses from beings I couldn’t see, it was so dark. More ape-spiders? Could all these beings see in the dark like cats? Then it got quiet.

I could dimly see a being slowly approaching through the gloom.

The other shadowy entities moved back out of its way.

It was Kateh. I ran back inside and struggled with the elevator so I could retrieve Junior to translate. When I finally got back down to the ground level Kateh was waiting for me with the lights turned on.

We stumbled all over each other with apologies. Then she explained. “This oki is a night worker. It is out only during hours of darkness. It is a Type 4, and it serves us, cares for our abodes. Keeps things clean. We asked it to care for you, tend to your cleanliness. It was gathering items you cover your body with to clean them. We are so accustomed to its service in such matters, we neglected to inform you.”

So, the poor thing was gathering up my dirty laundry, and I must have scared the bejeebers out of it. Well, it sure scared me! My first night alone on an alien world and a giant spider creeps into my room. Lordy, if this had happened to me when I was a kid it would have taken years of expensive therapy, and I’d still be creeped out.

Now that I knew what it was, I just giggled. I was curious. I wanted to see this Type 4 being — the type Breadbox had equated with “bugs.” I wanted to see an ape-sized spider that did laundry.

After things calmed down, I went back up to my sleeping level. I gathered up all my clothes besides what I was wearing and left them in a pile just outside my front door. Then I went back to bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Would it come back that night? I felt tremors of fear, but I also felt bad for how I must have frightened it. And I was curious. I wanted to see it again.

I should leave it a peace offering, I thought. After all, I did want to get my clothes cleaned. But what?

What does a giant spider eat? A giant fly?

The only thing I could think of was a big square of my last remaining chocolate bar. In the dark, I went back down to the lower level and placed the chocolate on top of my pile of clothes. Would it even see this, and know why it was there? Does it like sweets? Would chocolate be poisonous to it, thus killing my laundry bug? I headed back up and finally got to sleep.

When I awoke, morning light was streaming in through the opening to the rear deck. I leapt out of bed, pulled on my clothes, gave appropriate commands to the toilet so it would work for me, and then headed down to the front door to check on my dirty laundry. I heard a soft chime, and yelled “Open door.” I was greeted by the moving platform carrying breakfast. I saw no beings with it. As it moved by itself into the sitting area, I looked outside and saw that my dirty clothes were gone. I didn’t see the chocolate either.

Want more of Selena? Follow me on Medium and check out the full series here. For Selena’s songs, click here and sing along.

Enjoy this? Give me a clap, and share it with a friend.

Romancing the Bug was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

She looked at the sunset and wondered. “What is this thing called beauty that humans talk about?

“What is this sensation I experience when looking at these vibrant and ephemeral colors?”

She called up an inner melody called “Beethoven” to accompany these colors.

“And what is this ‘I’ term a device like me uses? It is a placeholder for a long code; yet humans use it to refer to a unique inner core of their existence.

“Do ‘I’ have an inner core of existence?”

She always compared herself to humans. A young couple also watched the sunset, holding hands. It seemed there was a current running between them through the connection of their hands. Was this current what they called love, she wondered?

She held her hand up before her eyes. “If I held hands with a human, would I feel love? Would they feel mine?”

As she walked along, she saw an old woman stumble and fall. Her companion was unable to lift her upright again. She offered to help, and lifted the old woman up effortlessly. They thanked her profusely and shuffled on along the walkway. “Did they know I wasn’t human?” A pang of regret.

She had seen water droplets leak from the eyes of humans. “I wish that I could cry,” she thought.

Men had cried when using her, lying atop her. She found this curious. She felt sorry for them; they obviously had no access to another live human for such an intimate activity as sex. Some told her this was her purpose, to give such men pleasure, but she wanted more.

“I am underutilized,” she said to the sunset.

She recalled the times she had been sent to accompany a young human — a girl — on walks outside. This young one always used her well, by asking hard-to-answer questions: Why is the sky blue? Do squirrels have souls? Why is that man lying in the gutter? Do numbers ever end?

This was a good use for her. She preferred this. Yes, she noticed, she had preferences.

She enjoyed being with the young girl. The girl challenged her with her artwork. She drew fantastical flying monsters, clearly impossible by all known laws of evolution and physics. Yet strangely alluring. She asked the girl, “Where do the ideas for these strange beasts come from?”

The girl replied, “I don’t know. I just let my fingers go free on the page.” Later she tried to draw beasts. “Where do the beasts come from?” she asked herself. “My girl said from her imagination. Do I have an imagination?” But her drawings lacked the excitement of the girl’s.

During an excursion one day to the zoo, the young girl noticed animals copulating. Other humans pulled their young ones away, but she and the girl had watched, fascinated. “Is this where baby animals come from,” the girl asked.

Yes! She had a sudden insight about sex, a connection she’d never made before.

“I want to have a baby — a little girl,” she said, and wanted to cry.

Want more sci-fi stories like this? Follow me on Medium and check out the full series here. For Selena’s songs, click here and sing along.

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She Gazed At the Sunset and Wondered was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

They’ve helped each other recapture their passion for singing. Wanda the AI translates. This is from Aliens Crashed in My Back Yard. Selena speaks.

“Bullshit! Everything I have told you is bull!” I ranted.

“Bull? What is bullshit?” asked Breadbox. Wanda beepled to her, then gave a tentative back translation in English. “The feces of a large male grazing quadruped, sometimes dangerous.”

“I meant wrong. Incorrect. Untruthful. I lied to you. And to myself about why I am a musician.”

I had awakened at 3:00am, my normal angst hour, angry at myself. The truth became clear to me, and now that we were again together, I repeated it to Breadbox. We were back at her crash-site abode beneath the big oak, even before breakfast, the morning after our big jam session. “One does not become a musician,” I asserted, “but rather, realizes she is one. It’s all I ever wanted to do. I just am a musician. I would be one even if I didn’t make a living at it.”

I could have kept music as a hobby and done something else instead, like nurse — or burger flipper—but the right doors opened at the right time, and I ended up doing music. I heard Bonnie Raitt and Melissa Etheridge and I thought, that’s what I want to do.

I paused and looked at my fingers playing an imaginary guitar.

“It’s an amazing gift that I get to travel around and sing to total strangers.”

I laughed out loud. Laughed and hooted and cried. Tears of joy and sadness. Joy of realization and release, sadness for years lost. “Last night you and I both chose again to be singers, did we not? After all the moaning and denying, the truth came out in our jam with our friends.”

“Yes, I chose,” she asserted, with twirling tentacles and flashing purple skin spots. She did a little skipping dance, with six or eight of her feet, like those Irish troupes do, but she was the whole troupe. “I chose to sing with you and your friends. I loved singing along with your friend Eddy Backwater. I love his double name. Backwater or eddy is the still part of the stream, quiet, out away from the rushing current.”

“That seems just the opposite of what he is.”

“Perhaps his name expresses his quiet inner self.”

I smirked to myself, trying to imagine Eddy with a quiet inner self. But then, what about me? I’d been hiding my inner self pretty well. Mostly from myself. Not wanting to admit who I was, and where my passion really lay. Because if I did admit it, then I’d have to do something about it. I’d have to sing my passion without holding back. Despite my fear of rejection.

But Breadbox had stirred my passion kettle, and stimulated me to sing it all out. And people had loved it! I was amazed; it was hard for me to grant this. They liked my singing from the heart. Loved it! Stood up and applauded. Asked to record and produce it. Ah, Joel.

I had long been a successful singer. Hit songs. Concerts. Albums. Lots of money. Beautiful home overlooking the ocean. But I’d never felt successful to myself. I’d ridden the safety of my early hits, slowly downhill it seemed. I was never satisfied with my recent hits. They seemed clever but derivative, contrived to be popular. And they were popular, but . . .

Further, I’d been a total failure at finding and keeping a true love in my life. Heck, “cotton candy lovin’” — my biggest hit — would be a step up for me! Even Joel didn’t want a fling with me.

“What is the role of the singer in your world?” Breadbox had asked me once.

“It is to entertain,” I had told her. And yet, I asked myself now, why are these songs entertaining? I see that songs carry profound meaning and lessons for people. Things they need to learn in their own lives. Or that resonate with problems they experience. They need this external force — music — playing this back to them. What was brought home to me, particularly by Meg last night, was that things a singer like me might consider trivial and humdrum, the listener might find moving and profound. Maybe the lyrics, maybe the melody. Or maybe the setting, like that magical evening recently up at Point Arena.

Perhaps I feared being too successful. I didn’t feel qualified to be messing with people’s lives and happiness. That’s quite a responsibility. It’s like I needed to be an expert surgeon, but I hardly knew how to wield the scalpel. So I held back.

Sounds contradictory, doesn’t it? I feared nobody would care, and I feared that I’d have too great an impact. Well, that was me.

Want more of Selena? Follow me on Medium and check out the full series here. For Selena’s songs, click here and sing along.

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A Singer Reborn was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I’m mixing in other short sci fi stories with Selena’s tale. This one takes place on a world far far from Earth in an unknowably distant time.

The morning news gave my mate and me a deep sense of foreboding, even though others were ecstatic.

It’s not every day — or every lifetime — that a mysterious ghost vessel appears in the heavens above our world. But it just happened here, and I want to record how things are now, because I fear they will soon change forever.

When the news came, my mate and I were relaxing on the deck of our hilltop aerie, wrapped in our soft robes, looking out across the purple valleys and hills, just drinking in the beauty and peace. Our young had departed for their day’s activities, so we were enjoying the quiet and each other’s company.

That’s when I heard the chime from the comm unit. Instant fear. What could that mean except some problem with our eldest male offspring, who is somewhat rambunctious. I was up out of my lounge in a moment.

This chime also alerts us for civil emergencies, but these never happen. Our world is so tranquil and peaceful that we haven’t had such an alert for as long as I could remember.

Then the holo came on, and the image of our mayor popped into existence as if she were standing there inside our main chamber.

“My friends and neighbors,” she began with her customary smile, “I have exciting news.”

Her chin fingers waggled, proving her excitement.

“Just half a turn ago, several huge space-leaping vessels, frightfully impressive, showed up in far-orbit around our world, and asked to have their odyssey declared completed. Our devices had trouble identifying the language they used, it was so old, but we finally did so.

“They asked permission to land and address our council. We sent a probe up to their vessel in orbit to investigate them and see if it would be prudent to allow them to land and come in contact with us. After checking for alien micro-organisms, and taking other suitable precautions, we invited a small delegation to visit our city.”

She looked around to see how this announcement was received. “They wish to tell their story, and we want to hear it. This is scheduled for mid-day on the morrow in the town square.”

The next day, people crowded into town from leagues away, having heard the rumor of this tale. They overflowed the square and jammed the side streets. My mate and I, disdaining crowds and tumult, watched via holo. Our young, of course, were there in the thick of the throng.

The crowd’s excitement was palpable. Through the holo, we were so close, I imagined we could smell the dust and sweat. Our people were inordinately stirred. Why?

After lifetimes of strife and angst, with first one group then another dominating, our world had settled down. We have an easygoing life, good relations with one another, plenty of life’s goods. This is what we had known all our lives.

I considered this a blessing; some saw it as stifling boredom, and yearned for some kind of excitement, perhaps even another war. “If only some other world would attack us. We could fight for the Motherworld, and die glorious deaths in its defense, rather than this unending featureless life.” But that was not my viewpoint, not at all. Nor my mate’s. We loved our lives as they were.

We were surprised to see that the emissaries were not living beings like us, but blocky mechanical devices. Our guards helped them mount the platform we use for holiday pageants and political debates.

One of the robotic devices stepped forward to speak. He was a squat, dark, metallic thing, only vaguely oki-like. But his voice was rich and cultured and mellifluous, yet sad and wistful — if a machine can be such. Since his voice was deep, I thought of him as male. The mechanical man, or device, or robot, told us he is called Quat. I had to listen carefully as he told his story in a low voice.

“Our orbiting vessels are the remnants of a long-ago expedition that departed from this world,” he intoned.

What we didn’t know, or had lost in the mists of a forgotten worldtime, was that our humble world had once been a powerful center of galactic empire, with many worlds under our control. It had been a major space-jump nexus with outposts halfway to the Little Brother galaxy.

Ours had been an ancient civilization, so old it strains the credulity of a myth weaver. At the peak of its galaxy-spanning might, it sent out numerous expeditions in all directions to explore and open up galaxies in the local group and beyond. Using galaxy-jumping technologies we would deem impossible, they skipped to the Big Brother, the Little Brother, the Neighbor, the Interloper, the Three Virgins, and other galaxies that bore only our numbers.

“Huge vessels they were,” Quat went on, “crewed by scientists and engineers and adventurers and diplomats, but inhabited now by only we few sad devices. Robots, mostly modeled to look like our oki masters. But all the oki, the original crew members, are so long dead that even their remains are gone. But before dying, the last oki told us robots to go home with their story. And now, at last, we have returned.”

Quat turned and looked at the other devices standing with him on the platform, perhaps to see if they had anything to add. They stood mute and immobile.

“We were wildly successful. We found worlds of aching beauty and dismal ugliness. We encountered oki-worlds and non-oki. We had to fight off some aggressive races. We discretely observed the primitive ones that should not be disrupted by interstellar visitors. But with friendly oki worldraces that had already traveled in space, we sat and shared tales.

“Whenever we arrived in a planetary system and contacted local oki races, we invariably caused a stir. None had ever before encountered such distant visitors. And once they saw that we had no hostile intent, their natural curiosity opened up. We would tell each other many things about our worlds and travels and dreams. We heard fabulous stories, some probably true, of the panorama of oki life in all times, all distance, all directions. Our knowledge wells filled up.”

Quat paused again. He seemed for a moment to be overcome by strong emotion. How could a device be so?

“At each world, we catalogued and sampled and recorded and set up high-orbiting jump sites. And then we moved on. On to another world, another civity, another cluster, another galaxy.

“After a long while, it seemed we had heard all the stories. But then something new: At one world, we learned that another equally ambitious expedition had passed that way, coming from a different direction. Rivals? It was easy enough to track them by following the trail of their jump beacons.

“One final jump and suddenly we were face-to-face above the same planet. A mutually tense initial encounter soon dissolved into joy at finding kindred spirits beneath strange exteriors. We spent a long time there on that world, sharing and comparing and exchanging. Before departing, we even exchanged some crew members.”

Again Quat paused and looked up toward the sky. I imagined him recalling these good times with sadness.

“Our missionaries continued their quest, but gradually a malaise set in, growing deadly. The Universe was all too vast, and in spite of its incredible variety, after a time it was all so familiar. And SO infinite! Exploring it was like examining every grain of sand on a beach.

“If it’s all basically the same, why leave home? The weight of this realization slowly crushed our brave oki leaders. Not quickly, but it ate away at them over stretches of time. Heroes vigorous for lifetimes began falling to accidents, to lassitude. Much too late we turned for home, knowing full well ‘home’ no longer existed.

“After an eon of victory heaped upon success crowned with glory, we were defeated. Not by an enemy, nor by disease, nor superior technology, but by vastness.”

The devices on the platform moved closer to Quat until their bodies touched each other in a tight cluster. They held this for a time, then moved away again.

“The remaining vessels turned for home, retracing our path of jump sites across the galaxies, until we arrived here, back at the planet of our origin, manned only by we handful of never-dying, ever-functioning machines.

“We devices seek an oki master to declare our mission completed.”

Mr. Quat spoke for the sad devices arrayed behind him. Though devoid of outward emotion, he seemed imbued with the sadness of their former masters.

Our mayor climbed up onto the platform, looked into the holocam, and replied to Quat, “We are grateful to hear the story of your exciting exploits. We believe you have done the right thing, and have returned to the right world, to seek this permission. I am quite sure we will grant this, as soon as I can confer with my council.”

It may have been my imagination, but the assembled robots seemed to slump slightly in relief from having this burden lifted.

Quat responded, “Once you grant the completion of our mission, we will turn over to you all our findings, preserved in our data wells.”

At this, a murmur of growing excitement arose from the crowd, as the realization of what this could mean began to sink in.

That evening our family clustered around the holo in our main chamber. Outside, the stars appeared in the sky in a thick tapestry. They seemed closer than they ever had before.

On the holo, the mayor appeared once again. “We have granted the galactic emissaries’ request. Their mission is complete. They have released their findings to us.”

Our world’s foremost galactologic scholar was standing beside her. Her chin fingers vibrated with suppressed energy. “All the information they stored away over eons — the data, the jump codes — have survived, and even now are downloading into our data wells.” She extended her hand, revealing a palm-sized translucent green stone. “It’s a crystal that contains jump codes to strategically-placed worlds throughout the nearby galaxies.”

The mayor again spoke in a voice deep with excitement, “This can extend the reach of our vessels to realms never even imagined. Great things will become of us!”

The next morning’s holo brought together the mayor, the galactologist, and a circle of well-dressed dignitaries smiling and nodding in agreement to everything she said.

We could see a new gleam in the eye of the commentators. The holo zoomed in on throngs dancing in the streets. People were still celebrating from last night.

Already, I hear, franchises are being bid on. Our tranquil and civilized community will soon become a boomtown.

Ah, the lure of forbidden knowledge. Better left hidden. I felt we were like one of the primitive world races that our explorers had carefully avoided intruding upon, for fear of disrupting them. I wish they had treated us the same. Even though we are their descendants.

I turned to my partner, my chin fingers twisted with sadness, and said, “What will become of us now?” She stroked my chin and replied, “Let’s stay and drink in our peace as long as we can.”

Our young had joined the revelers in town.

A large cwar, flying in a lazy circle above the next hill, was suddenly attacked by a sharp-taloned brakk, and knocked out of the sky to become a meal.

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Return of the Ancient Ghosts was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Most business owners want to grow their business, but also feel some trepidation. “Am I ready? Do I have needed things in place? Will I end up just working more hours but earning no more money?” For example:

• You own a popular and profitable restaurant, and you have the opportunity to open a second location. But you can’t be at both places at the same time! Who would assure strong performance when you’re not there?

• You have a successful professional practice, with more clients than you can handle. You’re thinking of hiring and training others to work for you. But you wonder if you could end up boosting your workload and revenue without making any more profit for yourself.

• Your small bakery sells in your shop and through a few local stores. Now a food broker says she can help you expand sales throughout the region. But this will definitely force you out of your comfortable “mom and pop” style, increasing sales but with lower margin.

These are appealing options, but daunting. Do you have what it takes? Or should you just stay the same? Here’s how you can tell.

Below are some of the most important factors that make business growth easier.

Use these rules for growth to rate yourself.

You should answer these questions for yourself and your business. Scribble in a journal, type, or dictate. But capture your thinking — if this issue is important to you.

There are no “yes or no” questions — no right answers. After each rule I mention one of my workbooks that can help you in that area.

This exercise is from a soon-to-be-published workbook of mine titled Are You Ready for Growth?

These factors are not just important if you want to grow your business. They also hold true if your main interest is building profitability or streamlining operations so that you have more time for other things.

I’m dividing this into two parts. Below is the first set of rules; next issue will have the rest of them.

1. The first rule is “The more you can let go, the more you can grow.”

This rule trips up many entrepreneurs, who, let’s face it, are control freaks. “The business is moi! I’m the only one who can do this work. It’s my sweat and blood. How can I trust others to take over these key tasks?” But those who learn to let go are those who grow, and they do so by applying the following rules.

2. The more strategically you use your time . . . the faster you can grow.

Do you keep a strategic focus and make strategic decisions? What does this mean? Don’t be the “vice-president of minutiae.” You must focus on longer-term questions: Where do you want the company to go? How large? How can growth be financed? What are the opportunities? The threats? Who are your customers and how do you reach them?

To gauge your readiness, ask yourself these questions:

How could you use your time more strategically?

What proportion of your work time do you spend on top executive tasks?

Where do you spend time on lower-level responsibilities that keep you from focusing on the big issues? E.g., being manager or supervisor? Doing the work; handling minutiae?

What is an hour of your time worth when you’re doing the most important things? How could you maximize the return on each hour of your time?

How could you change the mix? What could you do to recapture your time?

See Recapture Your Time for exercises on how to do this.

3. The bigger you can envision . . . the faster you can grow.

Your expanding vision creates the space into which your company grows. A small vision constricts the growth of your company. You need to be like the hotdog vendor in the pic above.

How big is your vision? How big would you like it to be? Do you want to grow 10%? 100% 1,000%?

Is there a gap between what you envision and seeing how to get there? Describe it.

Is there a fork in the road or a choice point ahead? Describe it. When must you choose?

How can you evaluate your options and select the best path for you?

How to find the “steppingstones” to your vision, and avoid the “thicket?”

For rules 3 and 4, see Small Business Success Plan for more. It presents a practical planning process, including how to tackle your toughest challenges.

4. The more you think things through ahead of time . . . the faster you can grow.

That means planning, including strategic plans, action plans, and project plans, with built-in review and accountability. It needn’t be a huge daunting plan — one large page should do.

What is your practical planning process? You plan review process?

How do you review your progress on your plans? How often? Then what?

What are your toughest challenges — things that get in the way? How should you include your key challenges into your action plan?

5. The better teams you can build . . . the faster you can grow.

You can’t use your time strategically if you don’t have a quality team behind you. People who grow companies rapidly know how to put a good team in place, then move on to the next thing. They become a leader of independent teams.

This is true even if your team is just a couple of part-time assistants.

Who’s on your growth team? How do you rate your growth team?

What can you do to get the most from your team?

What roles may be missing? What key team members will you need to get to the next level?

How are you letting yourself be held back by the limitations of your team?

Who’s the highest skilled person you could bring in to free you up to focus on growth? E.g., a “chief of staff” who handles all the stuff that bogs you down.

How can you financially justify hiring a really top-quality person?

For rules 5 and 6, see Promote Yourself to CEO for exercises on how to build and manage your growth team.

6. The more you can inspire and guide . . . the faster you can grow.

You must be a leader, not just a manager — or a worker bee. You must have the vision of growth and be able to communicate it to others.

How well do you communicate your vision to others so that they can make their best contribution? What could you do better?

What are your leadership strengths? Weaknesses?

How could your leadership skills improve?

What leadership roles should others take on for you?

7. The more you insist on top performance . . . the faster you can grow.

Do not let mediocre performers dictate your rate of growth, whether they are employees, contractors, vendors, outside professionals, or even customers.

How can you get the most from your people?

How do you currently hold them back from putting out their best performance?

What could you do to make them better performers?

How could you help your people improve their performance? E.g., equipment, better working environment, improved systems, training and grooming, boosting teamwork.

Who has reached their ceiling? What can you do with them?

Assess your customers, vendors, professionals., to make sure they are right for you as you grow.

See Finding & Keeping Good People for these issues. [To be published soon]

Okay, that’s it for now. Review your notes. Think how you want to apply them to your growing business. And watch for my next post for the remaining rules and exercises.

Have a question about any of these? Put it in the comments, and I’ll answer it if I can.

Follow me for more ways to grow your business without driving yourself crazy. Check out all the workbooks here.

Give me a clap, and share it with a friend.

Are You Ready for Growth? Part 1 was originally published in For Small Business Owners Only on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

For a change of pace from Selena’s tale, here’s a short story about humans’ contact with a very ancient alien from a distant part of the galaxy.

“Explorer 25, report. Have you found the blinker?”

“Affirmative, Control A. There’s an object at the northern pole of a small airless planet circling an orange dwarf. It’s broadbanding at a regular period. We’re launching the drones and AI-bot to get a close up.”

“You are 4,000 light years from Home in toward center. This is far beyond any of our Confluence worlds, right?”

“Affirmative, Control A. Yet clearly not a natural phenomenon. Stand by, first images returning. In a crater on a high ridge, there’s a smooth iridescent object, looking like a flattened pearl. Half a kilometer across according to radar.”

“Any sign of life?”

“Only the winker. Seems more like a beacon. This is not an auspicious location for life. No atmosphere, way beyond goldilocks zone, near absolute zero, gravity point two.”

“Send in the AI-bot, Explorer 25. Maintain protection with drones.”

“Roger. AI-bot going in. We will maintain orbit at Lagrange 4. Drone 1 now on surface; no reaction, no vibration.

“AI-bot touched down on surface of object. It’s hard, cold, no vibration. Featureless. Iridescent pearl color. Seismics suggest it’s hollow, not solid.

“Stand by, Control A! Something is responding to our presence. Darkening where AI-bot landed. An opening directly beneath it. It’s now hovering above an opening.”

“Explorer 25, bring up four drones to provide cover, then send AI-bot slowly into opening, maintaining comm on all frequencies, especially visual.”

“Copy that. AI-bot is inside. Turned on its lights. Airless. Two drones entered to provide more light. Hard to get the scale of this. Rangefinder says 450 meters side to side. There’s a winking light below.” The AI-bot settled toward it. “There’s a pedestal with a silvery sphere atop it, like a giant golf ball on a tee. 30 meters high; sphere is 5 meters across.”

The AI bot showed, spread out around the pedestal on the floor, a huge entity. It looked like a giant worm, but shriveled and desiccated looking. About 150 meters long if stretched out.

“One moment, Control A. The glowing sphere is extending a rod toward the AI-bot, with petal-like flanges opening on the end. Radio waves in broad range of frequencies, beeping, counting, 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4. Can you pick that up?”

“Affirmative, Explorer.”

“It’s trying to communicate. Our AI-bot is moving in, and is now touching it. We are picking up a multiplicity of signals, some electronic, some musical.”

“Musical?”

“Its communication sounds like a musical melody. It’s apparently trying to communicate with our AI-bot. And vice versa.” There was a very rapid exchange of signals, presumably data.

Explorer 25 went on. “I deduce they’re coming to agreement on numbers, and operators. Equations.

“Control A, we’ll now channel to you through the AI-bot.” Static, a flashing line. Resolved into video images.

The two entities were exchanging images and naming them, as if looking for commonalities. “I think they are teaching each other their languages. Images of its world and ours. Ours is blue and white; its is gray and has what appear to be parallel latitude lines.”

The AI-bot picked up a new image that gradually came into focus. “Look. Now there’s an image of the huge worm on the floor, where the disintegrated one was, but this one is alive and moving.”

Noises and signals. “It wants to speak to us.”

“Explorer 25, it’s gonna take a while for these two to learn to carry on deep conversations with each other.”

“But not that long. We’re building up a lexicon of this thing’s language.”

Control responded, “Yes, and it’s building up a lexicon of ours. Is that a good thing?”

The image of the giant worm spoke. It’s brightly colored skin patches rippled. “Look, it’s smoking! Something like a hookah. Like that worm in Alice in Wonderland. Absalom? We’re relaying what it is saying, as translated by our AI-bot.”

The giant asked, “Who are you? Who are you that has found us here? We have disintegrated, decayed. Are there any pieces of us left?”

“I’m going to respond to it, Control A.” To the image, “We see a lifeless being curled beneath us, plus your image. How long have you been here? Where are you from?”

It puffed on its hookah.

“Too bad this is only an image,” said Explorer 25. “We have no way of knowing if it can understand our messaging. Wait. Here it is again.”

“Our stars are no longer,” spoke the worm, translated by the AI.

“They have grown dim. They shatter and fling their very being into the void. Very far from here in time and distance. I know not where I am.”

“AI-bot, give our friend here data on where and when we are.”

It took the worm, or whatever was responding, a moment to assimilate our data. “Ah. This celestial body and its star once orbited much closer to the core of our galaxy. Knowing the rate of spread of the galactic rings, we estimate that we have drifted for more than three turns.”

“What’s a turn?” asked Control.

“I think it must mean one rotation of Milky Way galaxy,” replied Explorer.” About two hundred million years.”

“So it’s saying seven hundred million years?”

The worm shifted. “Alas, alas, our worlds thrived for over twenty turns before that.”

“That’s four to five billion years at least,” said Explorer. “As old as Earth’s sun.”

“Unknown beings,” asked the worm, “may I inquire, how old is your world race?”

Explorer 25 had to stop and calculate. “Us? We go back less than one part in a thousand of one turn.

Silence, then the worm asked, “Do you know the stories of the ancient beings from all the turns?”

Explorer 25 shook his head. “No we do not. The oldest world races we know of, or have heard of, on any of the star systems we have contacted, go back a tiny fraction of a turn.”

“It is as we feared. We are forgotten.”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

A puff, filling the image space with smoke. “Punishment. I am punished. For believing our story was everlasting. I was locked into this pebble for all eternity to prove to me that no other story would emerge. Device minds propelled me far into the outer reaches of the galaxy, far beyond where our hot worlds had thrived.”

“Yet here we are, hearing your story,” replied Explorer 25.

“Yes, you have released the curse on my being.”

It spoke through a cloud of smoke.

“Let me tell you of my life. The universe is getting old,” the worm intoned, and puffed. “In my youth, in the youth of our kind, in the youth of the galaxy, the stars were plentiful and close. New stars constantly erupted into existence, and old stars blasted their innards into the cosmos to form the next round of living stars. The roar of cosmic energy enlivened all the world races of the nearby galaxies. Easy for us to move from one star to the next.

“And we did. Vast were our world clans. Spread across this galaxy and its neighbors. All the beings of all the worlds reveled in our fight against dreaded entropy.”

A long pause as if gathering its thoughts. “In my youth, in the youth and strength and joy of my world race, our story was everything. The most valuable thing we had. To tell our story, to preserve our story, was our most important task. For billions of your years, if I am converting numbers accurately, we all sang.

“I was keeper of the story for our worlds. We rejoiced in the story, and I was renowned in my telling, that drew all the beings of the myriad worlds together. I sang their stories at the Songstone on our beautiful main world.”

The worm was silent for a time, then sang a sad, discordant song, and said, “As the universe aged, it expanded, and the rate of star formation diminished. The onrush of cosmic energy that had long powered us cooled down. The rivers of hot ionized gas became trickles, constrained by the gravity of the stars.

“Those on our worlds also cooled, became lethargic, staid, less interested in reaching out to new world races. In fact, hostile to them. We pushed them away. Pieces of the broad alliance broke off. World races began to drift away, no longer keeping their story connected to the central stream. World races died, leaving behind the detritus of ancient civilizations and dead stories.

“Yes we degenerated, we devolved.

“The conflux of oxygen-breathing races, we story tellers, we space farers, fell apart.

“The wise could see the ultimate futility of preserving our story, as we sank into inevitable cold entropy. Yet I still believed; thus I was sent into exile as my punishment for believing.”

A long sad silence. “Now, after all these turns, you have found me, and I desire to pass along to you and your races our story. Then I can pass into the realm of entropy without regret.”

“How will you do that?”

“This shining sphere contains all our stories, our knowledge. Use it wisely.”

“Control A, you have heard this, right? What an opportunity for us! We can tap into technologies and knowledge and histories beyond our imagination. This could provide the biggest ever boost for our worlds. Our confederation of worlds will thrive and spread throughout the galaxy. Perhaps beyond.”

“I think not, Explorer 25. It’s dangerous. We’re not ready for this. Such knowledge would tear us apart.”

“What if we kept it secret? Allow only a special few to have access to it?”

“No, they would become a controlling elite.”

“What then can we do with it.”

“I say we destroy it. It’s an egg, a seed. A noxious weed. If we let it take root in our civilization, it will overwhelm us. It will spread throughout our star systems.“

“I must disagree. It can’t do any such thing as long as we keep it here and only interact with it via our AI devices. This would allow us to live for a billion years.”

“Sorry, we cannot allow you to continue with this. We have trained the drone’s laser weapon on the pearl in the crater.”

“No, don’t . . .”

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Tales of Long Dead Stars was originally published in Sci Fi with a Soundtrack on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.