Originated Under Twin Suns

By Michael Pickard

What if the Voyager space craft's iconic information plaque fell into the possession of a species of sentient rocks and they interpreted the content as wisdom and guidance for behavior?

Frobs, just such a species, struggle to stabilize their society— with less than encouraging results—when the Voyager plaque unceremoniously lands on their planet, mounted as the heat shield on an invasive spacecraft. Once the splattered invader pilot has been properly crated up, Frob researchers, with the assistance of some sleazy interstellar consultants, attempt to extract information from the vandalized disk.
The two factions of planet Frobzb's ruling body argue mightily about everything: why their society is failing, what actions to take, the identity and intentions of the invader, what nutritives to suck up their pucker and, of course, what to do about one uniquely troublesome Frob named Gerfnit. In desperation, they launch a mission to Urrth, a planet of peace and harmony, the role model they hope will provide the answer to their fatal societal problems. Who will they assign to lead the mission? Who else but Gerfnit, quick learner who remembers everything and the only Frob with seven ometers.

Readers of all ages love unusual heroes. Originated Under Twin Suns is an epic social, political and sexual satire, the story of the origin of the reluctant but brilliant Frob who becomes Earth’s defender.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Pickard
• Release date: Mar 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301947119

Michael Pickard

Mike Pickard’s writing serves as the bridge between his professional work in technology and his passion for the creative arts.Several of Pickard's short stories have been published, including Hardwired, which won a Ray Bradbury Creative Writing Prize in 2005.Pickard's first major work was The Gerfnit Chronicles, a science fiction mystery/adventure and his first novel. The story began as a series of letters to his daughter who spent several summers at overnight camp. Pickard’s extensive backgroud working with cutting edge technology has proved helpful for imagining fictive universes and societies. Strong satire keeps readers grounded and laughing.Pickard has studied writing at the University of Chicago, the University of Wisconsin at Madison, Northeastern Illinois University and at the Science Fiction Novel Workshop at the University of Kansas. He has also been a member of several writers groups over the last 14 years, and is currently both a member and the webmaster at the Chicago area-based “The Writers of Glencoe.”Pickard’s “day job” for the last 45 years has been in Information Technology (IT). Here, too, his “inner writer” played a role. In addition to countless technical reports and position papers, Pickard penned dozens of articles as lead columnist for a microcomputer newsletter.Among his other creative exploits: amateur theater, playwriting, paper mache sculpture and inventing a board game.

Book preview

In 1977, the United States launched a spacecraft named Voyager 1 to explore the outer reaches of our solar system. Attached to the Voyager probe was a gold-plated copper phonograph record containing digitized versions of one hundred eighteen photographs, ninety minutes of music, and greetings in almost sixty languages. This information was intended as an introduction of Earth to any extraterrestrial species that might find the record.

What if we succeeded, and an alien species found one of these disks? What would they think about us, and how would they react?

Chapter One - Underground, Indivisible

Deep below the arid surface of the planet Frobzb, Lolux padded back and forth, careful not to disturb silvery recording tubes stacked high along the walls.  The underground lair was oval with a squat ceiling, much like the Frobs themselves. Five other members of their exclusive group, the Trager Golup, soaked their stony behinds in a Frob-built moogly pond. The air stunk of trouble, or perhaps the imported moogly hadn’t been freshened recently from naturally occurring surface pools.

As one of the stealth rulers of the planet, Lolux was expected to attend periodic meetings in their cavern beneath the Central Council structure, appropriate for a secret underground group. But Lolux preferred the gratification of working surface-side, constructing mechanisms that improved society. Improved grinders for pulverizing nutritives came to Lolux's mind.

The frequency of emergency sessions had increased and the group's productivity had evaporated like internal moisture under dual suns. Where in The Gaian’s name is the ChairFrob? Lolux strode up to the edge of the thick dark liquid. I have better things to do –

Zetzn interrupted. You have a full-time position here, but you’re always violating the isolation rule, sticking your pucker where it doesn’t belong – where do you sneak off to?– oh yeah, the Manufacturing village.

Lolux considered Zetzn's words, then dismissed them as just more shrill drivel. Frobs chosen for governing were expected to vanish from their surfaceside positions after being recruited and dedicate themselves to their new role. In theory, that would prevent citizens from discovering that their representative Central Council was a sham, a puppet to the real power-brokers below ground. But periodic absense makes more sense to Lolux than a sudden and unexplained disappearance.

Why in The Gaian's name did they choose me?

Zetzn never knew when to stop whistling. Do you enjoy baking under the suns? Why not just luxuriate down here with us? Zetzn shook its backside, settling deeper into the moogly.

Zetzn was partially right. The cool cavern was much more comfortable than the scorching surface above. Getting stuck on a Mover in-between villages could evaporate all the moisture out of a Frob. And the low cavern height was a comforting alternative to high ceilings or open air that would give a Frob the dizzies. One absolute advantage of surface-side: the company was certainly better. Rarely do Trager Golup members ever have rational thoughts, let alone original ones.

Lolux aimed its pucker at the group's most vocal Restrictionist. Because some of us have goals and ambitions! Like leaving Frobzb and exploring the universe!

The few vague references to other planets and species during training had captured Lolux’s imagination. On the occasions when Frobzb's suns both dipped behind the horizon, Lolux would strain its ometers skyward, fighting the onset of dizzies, reaching out to the blinking celestial bodies. What secrets do you hold? What might we learn from you? The flickering specks issued no reply. Instead, their light, diffused by a planetary force field, cast a dim glow on the questioning Frob and indeed, the entire planet.

You can belong to the Trager Golup and have ambitions. Look at me! Zetzn rose up on its front two pads. I'm ready to be ChairFrob! As an afterthought, Zetzn’s ometers shifted focus to the arched doorway.

Zetzn needs to careful of an inadvertent challenge to power. At least when I build something, I create a tangible result. That said, Lolux hoped Zetzn couldn't hear its inner stratta grinding. Why do I always allow that ignorant Frob to seep into my crevices?

Oh, and we don't make something? Like all the difference? Zetzn flipped a rear pad, launching a blob of moogly, which flew past Lolux, splattering on the wall. And all of the decisions?

Since Lolux's extraction, it had been expected to do great things because of its distinctive physiology: six ometers. We Sixers are held to a higher standard. Perhaps that's why the Trager Golup recruited me.

Lolux was tired of arguments with the Restrictionists, especially Zetzn, but couldn’t help but respond. Don’t confuse authority with progress.

Zetzen's pucker wobbilated. And don’t you confuse progress with - with –

ChairFrob's sudden silouette filled the arched doorway, interrupting Zetzen's rant.

– with progress. Zetzn muttered.

Rather than entering the chamber, the ChairFrob posed. Its thick oval body carried the ceremonial stone horn awkwardly. Mounted ahead of center, the horn made the ChairFrob appear in a constant state of falling forward, even at rest.

The Chairfrob's low-frequency whistle rattled the audio recording tubes stacked along the walls. Lolux, a moment please.

Lolux felt the other members' ometers focused attention. Who, me? Members Zetzn, Eeenu, or perhaps Siplok were more likely candidates for a private discussion with the ChairFrob. After all, they were like-minded Restrictionists, voting as a block. Lolux led the Expansionists, Takis and Balast, all of whom sat together on the opposite side of the pond. What did I do to warrant a private meeting with the ChairFrob?

Lolux warily crept around the pond and into the ChairFrob's private vestibule off the meeting room. Lolux startled at the presence of an information terminal, one of the few signs of technology in their lair. Lolux's curiosity was further fed by three open passages and two locked doors. Where do these passages lead, and what secrets are locked away?

Lolux kept a comfortable distance, so as not to violate the leader’s personal space. The ChairFrob’s top surface reminded Lolux of the rolling terrain surface-side. Lolux wondered what density and temperature settings were being detected by the four translucent, dome-shaped ometers decorating the ChairFrob’s top surface. I don’t dare lie.

The ChairFrob cleared its pucker before speaking, expelling glittering shards of gems. Lolux, I will be proposing that all past, present and future data from the Power village be moved to the secured portion of the Official History. I won’t call for any discussion, merely a vote. You won’t cause trouble, will you?

Ah, the ChairFrob and his Restrictionist agenda!, thought Lolux. Continuing cutbacks on freedom and access. Still determined to deny citizens information they have a perfect right to–

The ChairFrob rose on all of its pads, the stone horn scraping the low ceiling. Fragments of dirt and dust trickled down. Argue with me here all you want. Complain until your pucker prolapses. But in the formal meeting, I need your cooperation, and possibly that of your two Expansionist associates.

Lolux stiffened its pads as a sign of resolve. What’s going on? You’ve never asked for my assistance before. The Restrictionists had enough votes to pass anything, as long as they voted as a block, with the ChairFrob casting the deciding vote. Does the ChairFrob expect defections? Lolux's ometers cautiously sampled the ChairFrob's physiology - temperature, density, and internal sounds - seeking answers. Nothing out of the ordinary.

The ChairFrob hoisted its pucker. Consider. Few Frobs have legitimate need to access Power village information. The population at large will never notice. The ChairFrob's whistle dropped in pitch as its pucker lowered. You’re smart enough to choose your battles carefully. This one isn't worth the fight. Vote in favor to authorize this proposal swiftly and smoothly.

Lolux asked, But why –

Dumal, the official librarian and archivist, entered from the main meeting cavern. ChairFrob, the Central Council needs to speak with you immediately.

Those pretentious pretenders to power! They’re at my beck and call, not vice versa. Let them wait.

Dumal whined. They say it’s an emergency.

So was this Trager Golup session, thought Lolux.

I’ll dispatch this quickly. The ChairFrob followed Dumal, and then turned before leaving the chamber. I’ll expect an affirmative answer when I return.

When Dumal and the ChairFrob were out of sight, Lolux glanced over at the information terminal. Why is Power village data so important? Boring statistics of barvolts generated and barvolts consumed. What does the ChairFrob know that I don’t?

Lolux crawled into the metal box and involuntarily tapped a rear pad as the emitters in the machine aligned themselves to Lolux’s six ometers.

The machine clicked once, ready for a user request. The ChairFrob doesn’t do anything casually. It may only have four ometers, but it is as crafty as a sixer. Lolux concentrated its thoughts on Power village data. Fifty years worth shot from the emitters into Lolux’s ometers, small in comparison to the vast amounts of data Lolux normally had to ingest. The pattern is obvious. Historic measurements of planetary power, as generated by the ecracs stones, were amazingly stable, except for twice a year. At each perigol, when Frobzb’s two suns aligned, the overall power capacity dropped. Not a great deal, but measurably. The trend was downward over time, with no sign of recovery to previous levels.

Lolux’s strata rasped at the conclusion. Great Gaian! If this continues, Frobzb will fall back into the Dark Times. How soon will it be before Movers and tools stop running? Frobs will be helpless! It’s clear this information must be secured, to prevent a general panic. Lolux was astonished. This is the first time I’ve ever agreed with the ChairFrob on any issue. The rate of change clicked in Lolux’s mind. All right, the overall power level is going down, but slowly. The good news is, we have time to remedy the situation. What is the ChairFrob going to do to fix the problem?

Lolux bumped a control and exited the machine.

The ChairFrob’s voice echoed, Ignorant incumbents! A moment later, the ChairFrob scrambled through a passage entrance. Lolux, did you send any requests to the Yubllez?

Lolux had infrequent clandestine dialogs with various species, but not Yubllez. Of course not. Those peddlers would sell their originators for a profit, if they could. Why?

That was the Central Council’s big emergency. The ChairFrob snorted. Some Yubllez salescritter contacted them about commerce opportunities. Before the Central Council could react, the pushy peddler downloaded its premiere supplier list to our Official History. The ChairFrob launched a wad of spittle from its pucker that flew past Lolux. Back to our conversation. Do I have your support?

Always nice to have an opponent stuck in a crevice. What do I get, in return for my cooperation?

The ChairFrob blatted a series of descending tones. I always knew there was a bit of conniver under that goody façade. Name your price.

Lolux thought hard. Nothing comes to mind. Lolux paused. Owe me a favor, that I can use later. That could come in very handy.

Power village data gets secured, and I owe you a favor. The ChairFrob approached and body-bumped Lolux to seal the agreement. Worst deal I ever made. Let’s get the meeting started.

Best deal I ever made, thought Lolux. It strolled into the meeting room, whistling, careful to avoid the precarious piles of audio tubes. Millennia of Trager Golup recordings captured in audio tubes filled with expectorated sparkles lined the room in floor-to-ceiling stacks, yet the Power village data only went back fifty years. Strange.

What was that about? Zetzn asked.

Lolux sauntered past. If the ChairFrob wanted you to know, you would have been invited.

Lolux took its position between its expansionist colleagues. Balast rubbed against Lolux. Takis leaned closer. What was that all about?

The ChairFrob crept into the meeting room, the ceremonial horn tilting its body as it moved.

How the ChairFrob doesn't fall over and drown in the moogly pond is beyond me. Shhhh. I’ll explain later, Lolux whispered. Trust me and follow my lead.

Dumal sat waiting, one pad on the recording control. Aren’t you going to call the meeting to order?

The ChairFrob was turning slowly, scanning the low-ceiling cavern. Oh, yes. Call to order. Of course.

Dumal’s whisper was loud enough for all to hear. You forgot the saying.

The ChairFrob took the reminder. I call this meeting of the Trager Golup to order. We shall maintain a stable society.

The charter of the organization, to maintain a stable society, was reiterated at every meeting. It was the interpretation of that phrase that caused partisanship between the restrictionists and expansionists, who argued from two extreme positions.

The ChairFrob spoke.  I have a priority item –

Aren’t we going to sing the anthem? Dumal asked.

The ChairFrob stared at Dumal, then continued, Of course. Before we get down to business, there will be the traditional singing of the Frobzb Unity Anthem.

The combined sounds from the Frobs yielded a complex polyphony with syncopating rhythms. The current membership had been together for decades, more than sufficient to perfect their parts.

The ChairFrob looked at Dumal. Now may I proceed to new business?

Dumal nodded and started the recorder, which began filling yet another audio tube.

Despite the fact that this was an emergency meeting with a fixed agenda, Lolux was tempted to speak up. Almost every new idea from its village had been rejected, and the response of the Frobs surface-side was puzzled, bordering on defiant. The Trager Golup needed to understand the possiblity of fallout from continued constraints on the innovations of Frobzb’s most creative citizens.

All members listened as the ChairFrob spoke. As you know, perigol is forthcoming.  Therefore, I have brought a list of restrictions to be imposed on the population at large.

Right, and we'll take them off after the event, said Takis.

Not this time, replied the ChairFrob.  They will remain in place until I see fit to remove them.

Lolux was stunned. The ChairFrob hadn’t mentioned the extent or duration of the restrictions. Why?  We historically constrain things a bit but then loosen them back up after the celestial event.

Zetzn broke in. Are those six ometers of yours busted? There is a disturbing rash of innovation that must be eliminated. Just review the recordings of previous sessions.

Dumal ignored Zetzn and listened to the list of the ChairFrob’s proposed restrictions: limited travel between villages, elimination of commerce with other planets, empty originators prohibited from the extraction procedures of their offspring, and classifying Power village data as secured.

So many? asked Takis.  So permanent?

There will be no discussion. It's for the good of Frobzb, the ChairFrob muttered.

All of these, lumped together. Lolux realized the implications of its promise. In agreeing to support one, I must vote for all of them.

Dumal called for the vote. All in favor of these protective restrictions.

Predictably, Siplok, Zetzn and Eeenu each raised one rear pad from the thick moogly. Slowly, Lolux did the same.

What are you doing, voting with them? Takis shouted.

I have my reasons, said Lolux.

All against.

Takis and Balast indicated their opposition.

Dumal announced the self-evident outcome. The proposal is carried.

The ChairFrob muttered, Have the Central Council notify the appropriate Departments, Divisions, Committees, Subcommittees, Subsubcommittees, et cetera.

Despite its promise of cooperation, Lolux was compelled to speak. I hear rumblings, surface-side. Some day soon, the population will revolt against these kinds of constraints. What would happen then?

You're dancing close to a formal challenge, said Zetzn.

Dumal asked, Want to declare for the ChairFrob position?

Oh no!  Not me! I couldn’t live with the consequences if I lost.  The thought of standing as an exhibit in the Hall of Bad Examples made Lolux shiver. And, I'd surely lose.

The ChairFrob pulled its rear from the moogly pond. That brings this special session of the Trager Golup to a close –

The number fifty bounced around in Lolux’s mind. Fifty years of Power village data. Why only fifty? Hold on. The ChairFrob hadn’t said anything about fixing the slow loss of power.

This was an emergency session, with a limited agenda, said Dumal.

Lolux grappled for composure. Surely the ChairFrob is going to address the issue. It spoke in factual monotone. Isn’t there something else? ChairFrob?

Their leader glanced around the cavern, seemingly preoccupied.

Maybe if I keep the meeting going, the ChairFrob will speak up. Besides, I owe my fellow expansionists a show of conviction after my affirmative vote. We will face a revolution if we continue to restrict the freedoms of our fellow Frobs. They all want their work to matter. Yet, we reject their innovations and inventions –

Just what part of ‘maintain a stable society’ don’t you understand? asked Zetzn.

Lolux wiggled out of the black muck. Surface-side, a dip in a moogly pond would be refreshing. Down in the cool cavern, it was merely tradition. The villages will take out their frustrations on the Central Council, and then where will we be? Down here, without anyone upside to implement our decisions! All I’m suggesting is to allow Frobs some sense of accomplishment.

The group was silent. None of the restrictionists were interested.

With compressed strata due to disappointment, Lolux padded towards the exit. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I have some real work to do.

Real work, echoed the ChairFrob. Hmmmm. Perhaps you’re right.

Lolux stopped in its tracks.

You’re not listening to Lolux, are you? asked Zetzn.

You and I aren’t the only Frobs with good ideas. You can’t deny Lolux’s six ometers. The ChairFrob addressed Lolux. Go on.

This was an unexpected opening. Was the ChairFrob using up the promised favor? Lolux hadn’t asked for anything, but this was an opportunity. Can’t we harness Frob creativity instead of padding all over it? There must be some purpose –

Eeenu made one of its infrequent comments. I agree. The population needs to think they’re contributing.

Why not really contribute? asked Takis. Something for the common good.

Something to get their attention. A distraction, something to take their collective mind off the tightening of rules and regulations, said Zetzn.

The restrictionists were twisting the opportunity. Lolux scampered back to its position between its colleagues. The elimination of their freedom, don’t you mean?

It’s our charter, bless The Gaian, said the ChairFrob, and it’s for their own good.

So you tell us! said Takis.

I have it! said Zetzn. What if we commission Lolux’s buddies in the Structures division of the Manufacturing village to build a taaaaaall tower –

Takis wobbled, then slipped into the pond. The black ooze covered all but Takis’s top surface. When it emerged, dark goop shot from its pucker. Do you find it logical to make fellow Frobs dizzy?

Zetzn continued, And we recruit some Frob to squat at the top. If the tower was tall enough, every village could see it. That would be a spectacular distraction!

Takis yelled, Stop it!

No Frob in its right mind would volunteer for such a stunt, said Eeenu.

I meant something truly useful, said Lolux. Think about it. When was the last time Frobs banded together, for a single purpose?

Dumal started to scoot off to search for the answer.

The ChairFrob’s voice dropped half an octave. The answer’s as obvious as my ceremonial horn. The assembled waited. The Nzorglq pummeling.

Balast shouted Nzorglq! and huddled close to Lolux.

That was decades ago, said Zetzn.

Five, to be precise, said Dumal.

Fifty years! The anniversary of the Nzorglq assault! Lolux trembled as early memories came rushing back. Day after day, Nzorglq weapons had blasted Frobzb’s planetary shield. All power was diverted, to keep the shield intact against the onslaught. Frobs uncharacteristically huddled tightly in residences and workplaces. All activity stopped. Eventually, the Nzorglq gave up, unable to penetrate the shield. However, many Frobs had been permanently traumatized, including Balast, who made a habit of leaning against Lolux for comfort.

Balast trembled, making waves in the moogly pond.

Lolux tried to get the ChairFrob’s attention, but the ChairFrob seemed distracted.

And it rallied every Frob in defense of our planet, continued Takis.

So, what do you propose? Invite those brutes back for another try? asked Zetzn.

Perhaps the ChairFrob has a plan, or maybe not. After the upcoming perigol, our power level will fall again. No one is suggesting we invite them. Only that we prepare. Lolux recalled the Power village data. It took every barvolt of power we had to stave off those brutes last time. Now, we couldn't generate a shield of that strength if we had to! If the Nzorglq return, we'll be overrun and crushed, and our planet pillaged for our ecracs and other resources. Our defenses should be as strong as they can be. Vicious species are still out there. Don’t you agree?

Makes sense to me, said the ChairFrob, rejoining the conversation.

Lolux rose on stiff pads. I recommend a shield-strengthening project, in honor of the 50th anniversary of the attempted Nzorglq invasion. And to achieve a stronger shield, we’ll need to solve the power problem!

Nzorglq! shouted Balast.

Zetzn looked back and forth at Lolux and the ChairFrob, agreeing. Hard to argue.

The ChairFrob paused, as if waiting for some dissenting remark. None was offered. Dumal, poll the members.

All in favor of Lolux’s unexpected but rational recommendation, raise a pad.

For the first time that Lolux could remember, the vote was unanimous.

The ChairFrob relaxed, sinking deeper into the pond. Have the Central Council form a new Subsubcommittee, consisting of –

Any group that low in the hierarchy will be ignored, said Lolux. The vote was unanimous.

All right, a full Committee! said the ChairFrob. Direct the Central Council to issue a global communication. Every division of every village should select one Frob –

Their best performer – suggested Lolux.

Every village? asked Zetzn. Even Nutritives?

Yes, every one, said the ChairFrob. An outstanding performer, but one of their choosing, to work on improving the planetary shield.

Good. While they concentrate on that vital task, Zetzn cleared its pucker, we can get back to running the planet.

Any other new business? asked the ChairFrob.

Dumal sputtered. As long as the scope of this meeting has already been expanded, might I remind you about that Yubllez who contacted the Central Council. How many attempts does that make?

Why don’t they just go away? asked Zetzn.

They’re after our ecracs! said Eeenu.

The last thing we need to do now is sell off our source of power, thought Lolux. Although meeting an alien outsider gave Lolux a shivver it tried to conceal.

They won’t stop badgering us until we talk to them, said Takis.

We’re too busy, said Zetzn. Let someone from the Central Council do it.

No, we need to control the conversation, replied the ChairFrob.

Let me, said Zetzn. I’ll tell them where to go.

The ChairFrob turned to the expansionist side of the pond. Lolux, contact the Yubllez. Have the chat they so desperately desire.

Me? Lolux was overjoyed while attempting to maintain a nonchalant demeanor and an even temperature. Just what I need is more work.

But don’t buy anything, cautioned the ChairFrob.

Or sell anything, added Dumal.

Especially our ecracs! said Eeenu.

This opportunity was better than anything Lolux could have imagined. It was like a second favor. All right, said Lolux. Forward the details of their communication frequency and modulation to me and I’ll contact them.

Any more unexpected new business? asked Dumal. Or any unfinished old business?

Don’t forget, it’s almost time to make another editing pass of the Official History. Just to be sure we haven’t missed anything incriminating, said Zetzn.

Or useful, said Takis.

Dumal turned off the recorder. Meeting adjourned.

Chapter Two - Bicker Quicker

Gifter rode the Mover straight towards the Manufacturing village, despite exits to various moogly ponds that promised temporary but effective relief from the heat of dual suns. Its new assignment, enhancing the planetary shield, was of the highest priority. The Central Council had stressed the urgency of generating a stronger shield because of the historic Nzorglq threat. Finally, work the Central Council will appreciate and approve, thought Gifter. Too bad my appointment didn’t include Terfin. It’s dangerous, leaving my partner back at the lab alone with all my unfinished work.

The conveyor made a sharp bend, snaking around the perimeter of the low-rise stone structures until it hugged the taller Mechanism building. Although dizzy from the twists and turns of the Mover, Gifter’s quick shuffle onto the exit ramp put it at the entrance. The high ceilings were disorienting, but better than being outside. Frobs scurried by, most in wearable tools.

The Frobzb Official History was uniquely vague on the topic of wearable tools. Legend embellished by speculation provided limited insight of their origin. According to froblore, millions of years ago Frobs were self-indulgent creatures with no industry and no work ethic. With only six flat pads, their species was at a serious disadvantage - until the introduction of wearable tools. Each wearable tool was a machine equipped with sensory amplifiers, pinchers, grapplers, drillers, welders or shovels. The various mechanisms were attached on the outside, with controls on the inside. Frobs would climb inside the tools and use their body positions and their six pads to manipulate the controls.

The bustle of activity around Gifter contrasted with the slow, methodical pace back at Research. The air was filled with crackling welders and whining motors, accompanied by a steady pounding in the background.

A tool rolled up and a voice projected from the built-in speaker. What do you want?

Gifter pointed its pucker at the speaker, hoping the microphone was nearby. I'm looking for Fetex.

The operator inside raised a drill arm and pointed towards a Frob with light bands embedded in a dark body standing under a metal tablet that hung from the ceiling.

Gifter padded in that direction until it reached the target. I'm Gifter, from Materials Research. Up close, the metal tablet was an unusual configuration of an information access device, more accessible than the kind a Frob usually had to crawl into. I’m assigned to the planetary shield project –

Fetex marched out from under, its voice a grumble. You’re not the first to come calling. Others made appointments. Fetex jerked to the left, to the right, then finally faced Gifter. I’m busy. Improve the power output of the ecracs.

The pebbles that power everything on the planet? Blunt and wrong. Nice to meet you, too. That approach won’t work. I need to tell you –

Where’s Otis? I’ve got rounds to make. Fetex scampered away in a zigzag pattern.

The strata inside Gifter’s body grated. What an attitude! Gifter had to trot to keep up. Its pads ached from pounding against the stone floor. Why wasn't it dirt like every other building?

Gifter stopped at a project room where Fetex stood, watching some kind of demonstration. A thin purple beam projected from one of two slender cylinders mounted on top of a tool-wearing Frob. The target was a bare metal cube.

What’s this? asked Gifter.

Shhhh. The scan must be accurate.

Gifter stood silent while the anonymous Frob performed the task. Occasionally, the beam would split or sputter. When the procedure was complete, Gifter spoke up. Now can you tell me what’s going on?

Three-dimensional scanner, said Fetex.

Frobs gathered information in 3D through their ometers, such as visible wavelengths, temperatures and densities. Gifter had never heard of a device that could record such readings. Fascinating! How does it work?

Simulates ometers. Stores the 3D model. Fetex was a Frob of few words.

Getting information from Fetex was like trying to find a cool place to nurture grand thoughts. How would the model be used?

Efficient storage of schematics. Even automated replication. Watch.

By now, the scanner operator had rolled over to a chute with a conveyor belt attached. Fetex whistled a signal. A green beam shot out from the second tool-mounted cylinder. The conveyor belt dragged bits of ore and rock from a raised bin into the tool. Something began to appear on the floor where the green beam was aimed. Slowly but surely, an edge appeared, followed by a surface, finally a complete object. Not identical to the original cube. In fact, completely distorted, its surfaces were wavy, and every edge was a different length. Still, a solid object had been generated from a stored 3D model!

Amazing! cried Gifter. How soon will this go into production? We could certainly use a couple at Research.

Never. Stores the models in sparkles. Sources have dried up.

Gifter had often witnessed Central Council-dispatched gatherers who’d appear from nowhere, vacuum up any sparkle blasts, and disappear. What was the Central Council collecting them for?

A Frob marched in, stopping just short of Gifter and Fetex. Its tone was direct, but not arrogant or dismissive like Fetex. Who are you? What are you doing here?

I’m Gifter, from Materials Research. I was selected for the planetary shield effort.

Finally, a project that makes sense. Welcome. I’m Solow, facility manager.

Gifter had thought Fetex was the manager, the way it acted.

Solow moved to body-bump Gifter, but Gifter took a step back to avoid contact. It’s dangerous for Frobs to be wandering about. Solow snorted. Especially with Fetex in charge. Carry on. As quickly as it had arrived, Solow made a hasty retreat.

My thanks, said Fetex. Solow second guesses everything. Might behave with a visitor.

Solow was visible, peeking around a corner. Sebby, Gifter’s supervisor, may have been just as nosey, but at least was subtle.

Workers scooted past, as if they were late. The bustle of activity overwhelmed Gifter. There was so little work underway back at Gifter’s laboratory in comparison. How do you get so many approved projects?

I’ve stopped sending in requests. They all get turned back. Thank The Gaian, I work on what I want. As long as the funding continues. On request, we perform custom builds.

The 3D scanner operator approached the pair.

Great job, Otis! said Fetex.

We need to tune the modeling circuitry, and the recompositor. Look at that! said Otis. It’s supposed to be a cube, for The Gaian’s sake. What a disaster.