Intergalactic Summit

When I was a wet-behind-the-ear caspuleer, I spent most of my time mining and taking assignments from the personnel of whatever station I was hanging out at that day. At times, I would find people stuffed in cargo holds or jetcans of ships I’d just fought, bring them aboard, and then drop them off into whatever station I was operating out of.

At one point, I decided to make the Kingdom my main base of operations, and hauled almost everything I had to one station. Shockingly, the people I’d dropped off were still there. All of them.

I had accumulated about 30,000 people. The station manifest I was provided listed most of them as slaves, but there were also ‘scientists,’ ‘kokoburas,’ ‘freedom fighters,’ ‘refugees,’ ‘tourists,’ ‘exotic dancers,’ ‘janitors.’ I honestly have no idea how the station personnel classified these people, but it was consistent.

So I took them to Kingdom space and then left them in a station there.

I know this sounds mean, but I honestly didn’t know what to do with them and they sort of got lost in the shuffle. I am sure they were well treated. The numbers listed never went down, so it’s not like they were starving to death.

Then I joined I-RED, stuffed everything that wasn’t a ship into my Impel, and traveled to null where we were HQed. Halfway through the trip, I remembered something: slaves are not allowed in Caldari bases.

I didn’t want to get in trouble, and thankfully, I happened to know of a nearby world with great surfing (I’d worked for I-RED for about a month before I moved all my stuff.) There was already a couple resource gathering colonies on the surface, so I dropped them off.

Don’t worry, I had a ton of stuff lying around the cargo hold to send with them. Livestock, spirits, vaccines, CPUs, slaver hounds, construction materials, grains. All sorts of things.

I forgot about them again – you know, I was busy – but as I-RED has relocated to low-sec, I recently moved my stuff again and recalled the people I’d left on the planet. I decided to check in on them.

They were alive!

They’d developed their own little society, popped out little kokoburas, and did a ton of surfing!

Like a good Amarrian, I’d made sure to drop off a bunch of religious texts with them. One of the gallente tourists had read through the pamphlets and come to a religious epiphany, and the community had built themselves around it.

He explained it to me:

God is not a person like you or I. Even thinking of God as a ‘being’ is to place God into humanity’s limited understanding. Rather, God is intrinsically linked to the very nature and will of the cosmos. Our understanding of God and his will is to the real God as a wave is to the ocean.

Thus, divinity is the Great Wave. An undeniable but dynamic force that moves all in its path. You can feel the power of the Great Wave as it moves you, but you can’t truly grasp it. It doesn’t have desires per say, but it has momentum and reflects a greater pattern of existence.

Each person must learn to ‘ride’ the Great Wave as it expresses itself in their life. You can’t really change it, but you can decide how you handle it.

Anyways, they’d could never agree on what type of government to have, so they’d let people do what they wanted, and appointed ad-hoc leaders when they ran into specific problems. The slaver hounds had apparently gone wild, and rapidly multiplied, so they spent a lot of time working to protect themselves from predators.

A few of the resistance fighters and soldiers had decided to overtake a nearby colony. They asked me to supply them with a few odds and end, mostly guns and medicine.

I was surprised at how laid back they were. They didn’t even seem angry about my leaving them in a station for about a year. After I’d gotten them some supplies, they were quite friendly and said they’d love to have me back.

Khanid don't surf.

It looks like the terrible weather will block the sun for me.
Bet there are great waves though!

Ah yes. This tends to be how one finds oneself to be a minor deity. I experienced a rather similar situation. Instead of surfing, though, it was wild, inventive sex with many anonymous partners.

Probably has something to do in the choice of literature distributed.

Population control may have become an issue at some point.

Let's not talk about it.

You can either surf or you can fight.

Wait...surfing was an option?

A surefire sign he should consider a 'back, sack, and crack'...

Removal of excess hair from the listed areas...