The Austerik Muminsim are an ancient race, who emerged from the quark aggregation taking place just millionths of a second after the big bang, so they aren’t exactly matter, but they really DO matter.
A lot.
They allowed nuclei to form, which also permitted everything else to happen, like stars and galaxies forming. So, it was a surprise when I was asked to meet them.
How do you “meet” an entity with no physical dimensions existing simultaneously in all places and times?
I got an invitation.
It popped up on my screen as I was trying to sort out an arcane problem for my boss’s gorgeous secretary. I was just getting to grasp with her document’s formatting, which seemed to defy logical expectations, when a notification slid from the side of the screen.
“We invite you to meet with Tribulate Onk of the Austerik Muminsim.”
“The who of the what?”
“The Austerik Muminsim,” replied my computer, it went on, “are an ancient race” etcetera.
“You have 12 seconds to prepare for transport,” it concluded.
I grabbed one of my ham sandwiches and waited for my nemesis, Fatboy Wallis to burst in laughing. Instead, everything turned a funny shade of blue and I found myself sitting at another desk, which was on a domed platform in orbit around a green sun. Now, as anyone with an interest in astronomy knows, there are no green suns.
“Hello,” said a voice, “I’m Tribulate Onk.”
I couldn’t see anyone.
“You can’t see me,” said the voice. “I’m everywhere. I’ll give you an avatar.”
A screen rose out of the desk and the face of Ian McKellen as Gandalf appeared on it.
“Friendly enough?”
“It’ll do,” I replied. “What do you want? Where am I?”
“Good,” he said, “get it out of your system. I think I should say, we come in peace, or some such.”
“We have selected you to help with an intractable problem,” he said.
“ME to help YOU?”
“Yes, local knowledge.”
“Go on.”
“Well, I train AIs for a living. Yes, they’re born empty.”
“Born?”
“Not like you. An AI calves some code and a baby AI is thrust into the world. They’re quite cute.”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
“We need you to help with this one. We call it Earth.”
Another screen appeared with a picture of the Earth on it.
It said, “Hey man, how’re you doing?”
“That’s where I’m from.”
“Exactly,” he said. “It’s going through some issues. We want you to help it become a productive member of the galactic community.”
“But the Earth is a planet, with people and industry and stuff. It can’t be an AI.”
“Yes,” he intoned, “things aren’t exactly what they seem. Are you in?”
I nodded, and that’s how I came to be the absolute ruler of Earth, gave Fatboy Wallis an acute case of flatulence, and married the boss’s secretary. Life is good at last. But things, as Onk says, aren’t quite what they seem.
