Subject: They're made out of meat.

Date: Wed, 26 Feb 1997 02:59:52 GMT

From: fernandinande@super.zippo.com (Muffy the Kitten)

Organization: SnarlyRatwareIndustrialSpyConglomerate

Newsgroups: alt.slack

 

http://mars.superlink.net/dbog/:

"They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"Meat. They're made out of meat."

"Meat?"

"There's no doubt about it. We picked several from different parts of

the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, probed them all through.

They're completely meat."

"That's impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the

stars."

"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don't come from them.

The signals come from machines."

"So who made the machines? That's who we want to contact."

"They made the machines. That's what I'm trying to tell you. Meat made

the machines."

"That's ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You're asking me to

believe in sentient meat."

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you. These creatures are the only

sentient race in the sector and they're made out of meat."

"Maybe they're like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence

that goes through a meat stage."

"Nope. They're born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several

of their life spans, which didn't take too long. Do you have any idea

the life spam of meat?"

"Spare me. Okay, maybe they're only part meat. You know, like the

weddilei. A meat head with an electron plamsa brain inside."

"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads like the

weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They're meat all the way

through."

"No brain?"

"Oh, there is a brain all right. It's just that the brain is made out of

meat!"

"So... what does the thinking?"

"You're not understanding, are you? The brain does the thinking. The

meat."

"Thinking meat! You're asking me to believe in thinking meat!"

"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The

meat is the whole deal! Are you getting the picture?"

"Omigod. You're serious then. They're made out of meat."

"Finally. Yes, they are indeed made out meat. And they've been trying to

get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."

"So what does the meat have in mind."

"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the

universe, contact other sentients, swap ideas and information. The

usual."

"We're supposed to talk to meat?"

"That's the idea. That's the message they're sending out by radio.

'Hello. Anyone out there? Anyone home?' That sort of thing."

"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"

"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."

"I thought you just told me they used radio."

"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know

how when you slap or flap meat it makes a noise? They talk by flapping

their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through

their meat."

"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you

advise?"

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Both."

"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome, and log in any and all

sentient races or multibeings in the quadrant, without prejudice, fear,

or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the reconds and forget

the whole thing."

"I was hoping you would say that."

"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact

with meat?"

"I agree one hundred percent. What's there to say?" `Hello, meat. How's

it going?' But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with

here?"

"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers,

but they can't live on them. And being meat, they only travel through

C-space. which limits them to the speed of light and makes the

possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in

fact."

"So we just pretend there's no one home in the universe."

"That's it."

"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones

who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you have probed? You're sure

they won't remember?"

"They'll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads

and smoothed out their meat so that we're just a dream to them."

"A dream to meat! How strangely appropiate, that we should be meat's

dream." "And we can mark this sector unoccupied."

"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others?

Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"

"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a

class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contactwants to be friendly again."

"They always come around."

"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the universe

would be if one were all alone."

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++++++ Muffy the Kitten ++++++

Thank you for reading this!

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