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All Tomorrows - The Future of Humanity

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All Tomorrows - The Future of Humanity

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All Tomorrows - The Future of Humanity

KURIOUS: Strange and Unusual Stories 2026

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Hello, it is Ryan and we could all use an extra bright spot in our day Couldn't we just to make up for things like sitting in traffic doing the dishes counting your steps, you know All the mundane stuff that is why I'm such a big fan of chamba casino Chamba casino has all your favorite social casino style games that you can play for free anytime anywhere with daily bonuses So sign up now at chamba casino.com. That's chamba casino.com Hello, I'm welcome to stories all the time. The Ladewer here. Let's get into it. To Mars. After millennia of Earthbound 4Play, Mankind's achievements on a note with the level began with its political unification and the gradual colonization of Mars. While the technology to colonize this world had existed for some time, political bickering, shifting agendas, and the sheer inertia of comfortable dress roadies Hoping had made this step seem more distant than it actually was. Only when the risks clearly began to present themselves, only when Earth's environment began to buckle under the strain of 12 billion industrialized souls, did Mankind finally take up the momentous task.

All through the decades, traveling to and later settling on Mars had been envisioned as quick, relatively easy affair is complicated but feasible and manageable in short term. As the push finally came to a shove, it was realized that this was not the case. It had to go step by step. Atmosphere bombardment by genetically tailored microbes slowly generated a breathable atmosphere in a cycle that took centuries. Later, a few commedery fragments were knocked off coast to bring forth seas, oceans, water. When the weight was finally over, remnants of Earth's floor and fauna were introduced at specifically modified Martian remakes. When everything was ready, people came from their crowded world. They came in one way, ships, fusion rockets, and atmospheric gliders packed to the brim with colonists sleeping in dreams of a new beginning. The first steps on Mars were taken not by astronauts, but by barefoot children on lush biosynthetic grass. The Martian Americans for several hundred years, Mars remained as a backwater, prospering, but still didn't compare to the splendor of Earth, which was glowing brighter than ever before. Thanks to the relocation of environmentally demanding industries to Mars, Earth could use her everything without having to damage its tired biosphere.

This was the terrestrial heyday, the climax of economic, cultural, and social development on Old Earth. This, however, was not to last. Like the gradual separation of America from her European mother, the governments of Mars adopted a new Martian identity. They became the Martian Americans. The difference between Earth and Mars was not only political. A few generations in the lighter gravity gave the new Americans a spindly, light frame that would look surreal in their old home. This, combined with a certain amount of genetic engineering, took the Martian separation to a new level. For a while, the silence gazed in between the two planets was mutually accepted in the balance of power, and an edge equilibrium. But the Terra Martian standoff did not, and could not last forever. With limitless resources and an energetic population, Mars was bound to take the lead. Civil War The Martian turnover was expected to occur in two ways, either through long-term economic gains or by a much shorter but painful armed conflict. For almost 200 years, the former method seemed to take effect, but the gradual stretch eventually did break in the most destructive way. Almost since its establishment, Martian culture was suffused with an explicit theme of rebellion against Earth.

Songs, motion pictures, and daily publications repeated those notions again and again until they became internalized. Earth was the old, ossified home that held humanity back, while Mars was new, dynamic, active, and inventive. Mars was the future. This ideology eventually reached its semi-paranoid revolutionary apex. Roughly a thousand years from now, the nations of Mars ban all non-essential trade and travel with Earth. For Earth, it was a death sentence. Without the resources and industries of Mars, a terrestrial heyday would quickly devolve into a pale shadow of its former glory. Since a trade of essential goods continued, nobody would starve, but for every citizen of Earth the Martian book up meant the loss of up to three-fourths of video-lengthum. Earth had no choice but to reclaim its former privileges by force of necessary. Centres after her political unification, terror geared up for war. Most thinkers and fantasists of previous times had imagined into planetary war as a glorious, fast-paced spectacle of massive ships, one-man fighters, and last-minute heroics. No fantasy could have been further from the truth. War between planets was as slow, no fracking series of precisely-time decisions that spelled destruction on biblical scales.

Most of the time, the combatants never saw each other. Most of the time, the combatants were not there at all. War became a drill between complicated autonomous machines program to maximize damage to the other side while trying to last a little longer. Such a conflict caused horrendous destruction on both sides. Forbos, one of Mars moons, was shattered and rained down as meteoric hail. Earth received a polar impact that killed one-third of its population. Verily escaping extinction, the peoples of Earth and Mars made peace and reforged the United Solar System. It had cost them more than eight billion souls. Star people. The survivors agreed that massive changes were necessary to ensure that such a war never occurred again. These reforms were so comprehensive that they entitled not political, economical, but biological changes as well. One of the greatest differences between the people of the two planets was that over time, they had almost become different species. It was believed that the Solar System could never completely unify until this discrepancy was overcome. The answer was a new human subspecies, equally and better adapted not only to Earth and Mars, but to the conditions of most newly terraformed environments as well.

Furthermore, these beings were envisioned with larger brains and heightened talents, making them greater than the sum of their predecessors. Normally, it would be hard to convince any population to make a choice between mandatory sterilization and parenting a newfangled race of superior beings. However, memories of the war were still painfully fresh, and it was easy to implement these radical procedures in the wake of such a slaughter. Any resistance to the birth of the new species did not extend beyond meager complaints and trivial strikes. In only a few generations, the new race began to prove its worth. Organized as a single state and aided by the technological developments of the war, they rapidly terraformed and colonized Venus, the asteroids, and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn. Soon, however, even the domain of Saul grew too small. The new people who inherited it wanted to go further to new worlds under distant stars. They were to become the star people. Colonization. Even for the star people into planetary travel was a momentous task. Early minds had boggled over the problem and fantasies such as faster than light travel and hyperspace emerged as the only solutions. Simply put, it was impossible to take a large number of people with enough supplies to even the closest star to make colonization feasible.

The existing technology could only slug a round at mere percentages of light speed, making the journey an epic spanning affair. Enormous generationships were conceived and even built, but these succumbed to technological difficulties, or an onboard anarchy after only a few cycles. The solution was to first go there and make the colonists later. To this end, fast and small automated chips were sent forth to the stars. On board was semi-sensit machines programmed to replicate and terraform the destination and construct its inhabitants from the genetic material stored on board. The bizarre problem played such attempts. The first generation of humans to be manufactured sometimes developed a strange fiction for the machines that made them. They rejected their own kind and perished after the massive identity crisis that followed. This technological edipous complex was not uncommon. Nearly half of all the colony funding attempts were lost to it. Even then, however, the remaining half was enough to fill humanity's own spiral arm of the galaxy. The summer of man right after mankind's colonization of the galaxy came its first true golden age. Breared by machine profits, the survivors of the edible plagues built civilizations that equaled and even surpassed their solar for burrows.

This diffusion across the heavens did not mean a loss of unity. Across the skies, steady flows of electromagnetic communication link mankind's world was such efficiency that there was no colony that did not know about the goings on of a distant siblings. The free foe of information meant, among other things, a vastly accelerated pace of technological growth. What couldn't be figured out in one world was helped out by another, and any new developments were quickly made known to all in a realm that's banned centuries of light. Not surprisingly, living standards rose to previously unimaginable levels. While this did not exactly mean a galactic utopia, it was safe to say that people of the colonized galaxy lived lives in which labor, both menial and mental, was purely compulsory. Thanks to the riches of the heavens and the toil of machines, each person had access to material and cultural wealth greater than that of some nations today. During all this development, a curious phenomenon was observed. While alien life was abundant in the stars, no one had encountered any signs of true intelligence. Some attributed this to an overall rarity, while others went as far as to find influence, wrecking religion. Regardless of the theorizing, one question went truly and utterly unanswered, what would really happen if mankind ever ran into its equals were superiors in space?

An early warning during those times, a small discovery of men's implications warned humanity that it might not be alone. On a newly colonized world, engineers had stumbled across the remains of a puzzling creature, considered so because it had every hallmark of terrestrial animals on an alien planet. Justifiably named Pandravas Padora, the colossal fossil belonged to a birth like creature with enormous claws. Later research determined it to be a highly derived therazinosaur, for millennia of dinosaurs of herbivores that died out millions of years ago on Earth. While every other large land animal on the colony world had three limbs for copper-based skeletal system, and hydrostatically operated muscles, Pandravas was a typical terrestrial vertebrate with calcium-rich bones and four extremities. Finding it though was as unlikely as finding an alien creature in Earth's own strata. For some, it was a refutable proof of the vine creation. The religious resurgence fueled a first by mankind's apparent loneness in the heavens got even more intensified. Others saw it differently. Pandravas had shown humans that entities, powerful enough to visit Earth, take animals from there and adapt them to an alien world were at large in a galaxy.

Considering the time-gulf of the fossil itself, the mysterious beings were millennia older than humanity when they were capable of such things. The warning was clear. There was no telling what would happen if mankind suddenly ran into this civilization. A benevolent contact was obviously preferred and even expected, but it paid to be prepared. Sadly, humanity once again began to build and stockpile weapons, this time of the interplanetary potency. There were terrible devices, capable of knowing stars and wrecking entire solar systems. Sadly, even these preparations were proved to be ineffectual in time. Hugh, the first contact was bound to happen. The galaxy, let alone the universe, was simply too big for just a singular species to develop intelligence in. Any delay in contact only meant a heightening of the eventual culture shock. In humanity's case, this culture shock meant the complete extinction of mankind as it had come to be known. Almost a billion years old, the alien species known as Q, were galactic nomads, traveling on spiral onto another inepic spanning migrations. During their travels, they constantly improved and changed themselves until they became masters of genetic and unotechnological manipulation.

With this ability to control the material world, they assumed a religious self-imposed mission to remit the universe as they saw fit. Powerful as gods, Q saw themselves as the divine harbingers of the future. This dogma was rooted in what had been a benevolent attempt to protect the race from its own power. However, blind, unquestioning obedience had made monsters of the Q to them, humanity, with all of its relative gorers, was nothing more than a transmutable subject. Within less than a thousand years, every human world was destroyed, depopulated, or even worse changed. Despite the fervent rearmament, the colonists could achieve nothing against this billion-year-old foes safer few flashes of ephemeral resistance. Humanity, once the rule of the stars, was now extinct. However, humans were not. Man extinguished the worlds of humanity, gardens of terrifying paradise seemed strangely empty to the Q. Often there were no raw materials available other than people, their cities, and a few basic niches of ecology populated by genetically modified animals and plants from Earth. This was because humans had erased the original alienicologies in the first place. Fanded by another race trying to remake the universe, the Q set forth to punish these infidels by using them as the building materials of their vision.

While this led to a complete extinguishment of human sentience, it also saved the species by preserving its genetic heritage in a myriad of strange new forms. Populated by Ursus humans, now in every guise from wild animals to pets to genetically modified tools, Q reigns supreme for 40 million years in the worlds of our galaxy. They erected kilometre hind monuments and changed the surfaces of entire worlds apparently to win. One day they departed as they had come for theirs was an ever-ending quest and they would not could not stop until they had swept through the entire cosmos. Behind them, a queue left a thousand worlds, each filled with bizarre creatures and ecologies that had once been named. Most of them perished right after their caretakers left. Others lost it a little longer to succumb to long-term instabilities. On a precious few worlds, descendants of people actually managed to survive. In them laid a fate of the species, now divided and differentiated beyond recognition. The worms the world lay under a scorching sun, its intensity made monstrous through the interventions of the Bagon Cue. The surface lay littered with husks of dead cities baking endlessly like shattered statues in a derelict oven. Yet live remained unknown for giving place forests of crystal-line plants blanketed the surface,

recycling oxygen for the animal life that teamed underground. One such species, barely longer than the arms of their ancestors, was the soul-surviving vertebrae. Furthermore, it was the planet's last heir of the star people. To distort a beyond-recognition by genetic modification, they looked like pale overgrown worms. Tiny, feeble feet and hands modified for digging were all that betrayed their noble heritage. Aside from these organs, all was simplified for the life underground. Their eyes were pimprix. They lacked teeth, external ears, and the better half of their nervous system. The lives of these are as such people did not extend beyond digging aimlessly. If they encountered fruit, they devoured it. If they encountered others of their kind, they sometimes devoured them too. But mostly, they made it and multiplied, and managed to preserve a single shred of their humanity in their genes. In time, it would do them good. The Titans, on the end, the savannah of a long extinguished colonial outpost, enormous beast room supreme. More than 40 metres long by terrestrial measurements, these behemoths were actually the transmuted offspring of star people. Several features betrayed their human ancestry.

They still retained stubby thumbs on their elephant-like front feet, now useless for any sort of precise manipulation, except for approving trees. They compensated this loss by developing their lower lip into muscular, trunk-like organ that echoed the elephant of us past. As bestials they seemed, the Titans were among the smartest of the reduced submen that remained in the galaxy. Their hulking stance allowed for a developed brain, and gradually sentience re-emerged. With their lip trunks they fashioned on eight wood carvings, direct detangue-like dwellings, and even began a forum of primitive agriculture. With settled life came the inevitable flood of language and literature, myths and legends of the bygone, half-remembered past were told in booming voices across the vast plains. It was easy to see it within a few hundred thousand years, humanity could start again with these titanic primitives. Sadly, as a catastrophic ice age took over the Titans' home while the gentle giants disappeared, never to return. How to have fun, anytime, anywhere. Step one, go to chumbacaceno.com. Chumbacaceno.com, got it. Step two, collect your welcome bonus. Come to Papa, welcome bonus. Step three, play hundreds of casino-style games for free.

That's a lot of games, all for free. Step four, unleash your excitement. Woohoo, g-ch g-ch g-ch g-ch g-ch g-ch. Chumbacaceno has been delivering thrills for over a decade, so claim your free welcome bonus now and live the Chumbac Life. Visit chumbacaceno.com No purchase necessary, QEW group void for prohibited by law, 21 floss terms and conditions apply. Predators and pre-devolved predators were common among humanities-feral worlds. Most of the time they resembled the vampires, werewolves, and goblins of Bukon lore, hunting equally subhuman prey with a combination of derived weaponry. Some had enormous heads with large killing teeth, of this toward their victims apart were tall, unlike feed, but the most common kinds bore modified fingers and thumbs, percing with razor-shot claws. The most efficient of these predators lived in one of mankind's first off-world colonies. In addition to Paul Icant was switchable thumbs, they also had gaping, tooth studded jaws on disproportionate heads with large, sensitive ears. All of these served to make them the dominant predators on their home planet. They ran the prayers, stalked the forests, and ranged through the mountains in pursuit of different people, herbivore saltators, with bird-like legs. While the prey lapsed into

complete animosity, the hunters managed to keep the spark of intelligence alive in their evolutionary honing. Montelopes not all devolved people lapsed into complete bestiality. Sun held onto their minds while losing all of their physiological advantages to the genetic meddling of a cue, a singular species was a prime exemplar. They had been bred as singers and memory retainers, acting much like living records during the reign of the cue, when their masters left, they barely survived, reverting in a quadrupedal stance and occupying a niche as grazing herred animals. This change was so brought that the newly evolved mantelopes endured only due to the forgiving sterility of their artificial biosphere. The mantelopes equipped with full, if slightly-known, human minds and completely disabled animal borders lived agonizing lives. They could see and understand the world around them, but due to their borders they could do nothing to change it. For centuries, mournful herds roamed the plains, singing songs of desperation and loss. Entire religions and oral traditions were woven around this crippling racial disability as dramatic and detailed as any unbiased on earth. Fortunately, the selective forces of evolution made their agony a short-lived one. Simple a pot that brain was not advantageous to develop

if it could not be put into good use. A dim-witted, half-minded main note grew up faster than smarter one and grazed just as efficiently. The main notes animal children overtook them in less than a hundred thousand years, and their melancholic world fell silent for good. Nothing was sacred in the evolutionary process. The swimmer's cycle involved an aquatic-level stage, the cute and snuted a large number of their human subjects in a bewildering array of aquatic creatures. Taken care of by specially bred attendants, these post-human water babies came in ever-shape and size imaginable. There were limbless, ribbon-like varieties of ill people huge, well-like behemoths, decorative people who swam by squirting water out of their mouths, and horrifying multitudes of brainless wallowers that served as foodstock. All of them were perfectly domesticated. All of them, at extinct when their masters left, all save a few lightly mutated, generalized forms. These swimmer still resembled the human and sisters to a large degree. They had no artificial gills, their hands were still visible through their front flippers, the feet were split affairs that function like a pair of tailflooks. Recognizably human eyes peeked through their blubbery eyelids and they spoke to each other,

though not in words, the never-insentient understanding. For millennia, they swung the oceans of their ecologically-stunted world, feeding on diversifying kinds of fish and prostations, survivors of the foodstock originally imported from Earth. With the intervention of the Cughan, natural selection was used. The swimmers became more stringent and better catch their fast prey. The prey responded by getting even faster or evolving defensive countermeasures such as armor, spikes, or poison. Evolutioned back on track, the swimmers drifted further and further away from their sentient ancestry. They would wait for a long time indeed to taste that blessing again. The Lizard Herdos. They were the lucky ones. Instead of them recognizably distorting them as they had done to most of their subjects, the Cughan merely erased their sentience and stunted the development of their brains. Dissently resembling their ancient forebours on Earth, the primitives led Pharaoh lies for in a naturally long time. They never regained sentience after the Cughan, despite having every incentive to do so. This was partially due to the total absence of predators on their garden world, resulting in no advantage for intelligence. For the more,

the Cughan made some small but integral changes to their brains, tweaking with the structure of Sir Bellum so that certain features associated with heuristic learning would never emerge again. Once again, the reasons for these baffling changes remain no-no only to the Cughan, the dumb people eventually settled in as symbiosis with some of the other creatures that inhabited their planet. They began to instinctively farm some of the large herbivorous reptiles, ancestors of which were brought from Earth as pets. Soon, the balance of this mutualism began to tip in the reptiles' favor. The tropical climate of the planet gave them an inherent advantage, and they underwent a spectacular radiation of different species. They encountered no competition from the only large mammals on the planet, the brain-neutral descendants of the staff errors. Faced with the reptilian turnover, the only adaptation the submen could mustos to slip quietly into bestial oblivion. The tempters, in the tempter's case, the remodeling was done with an almost artistic enthusiasm. How they managed to survive in that bizarre form was not clear. Their ancestors were used as a solid decoration and through some miracle of adaptation they had endured. No human would have recognized them as their descendants. The females were beat cones of flesh on two meters tall rooted in soil-like grotesque carnivorous

plants. The males, on the other hand, resembled contorted by pital monkeys. Unlike their mates, they were perfectly ambulatory. Dozens of them ran around the females' mouths like so many imps. Some would gather fruit, others would clean the females, while others would stand on guard for danger. Although their actions looked purposeful, the males had no will of their own. In tempter society, females controlled everything, using a combination of vocal and pheromonal signals. They guided the masculine hordes into any number of menial tasks, while mating with the strongest, the most subbedient, and the dumbest to produce even better drones. On certain periods, they would also give birth to a few precious females, who would be carried away by subservient males to root themselves. It was a terribly efficient hegemony that would certainly give rise to civilization in a matter of centuries had fate not intervened. At a stray comet obliterated the tempters' manforice, one of humanity's best chances for re-emergence was cruelly swept away. The boardcrushers. Through the deliberate modifications of Q and the blind molding of evolution, the heavens came to be populated with creatures that would

put the mess of their ancestors to shame. Their ancestors were pint-sized pets of Q that were bred for the dazzling colours of their tooth-derived beaks. When their masters left, most of these pampered creatures died, with no one on nothing left to take care of them. But some, belonging to the hardiest breeds survived. In less than a geological I blink of a few million years, the descendants of such creatures radiated into the evolutionary vacuum of their garden world. One lineage led to a profusion of human herbivores. These were preyed upon by a variety of enamel-beak raptors, each evolved to deal with a specific prey. Among these generalized niches were entire assemblages of specialized animals, assembling anything from ibis-built swampsifters to splendorous forms with bizarre crests that flared out of their toothy beaks. There were even secondarily sentient forms in the shape of the ogre-like bonecrushers. To one observer of today, they would indeed be the stuff of nightmares, three meters tall and hairy, sporting vicious thumb-clowers and enormous beaks that suited their scavenging diet. Despite their shortcomings, these co-op seating primitives were one of the first species to attain intelligence and, although primitive, a level of civilization. All of these proved the fallacy of human prejudice in the post-human

galaxy. A creature could feed on petrifying meat, stink like a grave, and express its affection by defecating on others, but it might as well be your own grandchildren and the last hope of mankind. In eventuality, however, not even the bonecrushers fulfilled this promise. The dependency on carrion for food limited their population severely and the medieval civilizations crumbled after a few in eventful millennia. The colonials. The world had given the toughest resistance against the Q-onslop. So tough, in fact, that they had turned back to successive waves of the invaders only to succumb to the third. And of course, the Q, with their twisted sense of justice, wanted to make them pay. Even extinction would be too light punishment for assisting the star gods. The humans of the rogue world needed a sentence that would remind them of their humiliation for generations to come. So they were made into disembodied cultures of skin and muscle, connected by a skimpy network of the most basic nerves. They were employed as living, filtering devices, subsisting in the waste products of acute civilization like mats of cancer cells. And just a witness in suffer their wretched fate, their eyes, together with their consciousness, was retained. For 40 million years,

they suffered. Generation after generation were born into the most miserable of lives while absorbing the pain of all that they were going through. When the Q left, they helped for a quick extinction, but their loneliness had also made them efficient survivors. Unchecked by the Q, the colonials spread across the planet and quote like fields of human flesh. After an eternity of tortured lives, the human feels tasted something that could almost be described as hope. The flyers they were not uncommon at all in the domain of Q, at least a dozen wells sported human-derived flying species of one kind or another. Most resembled the bats of the terraces of the Bygum past, dancing through the ether-like angels, or demons spending on the point of view. There were a few bizarre kinds which relied on swollen gas glands for flotation as well. Sadly, most of these creatures were already too specialized to be anything but flyers. They had forsaken their humanity for the conquest of the sky. They had little potential for further radiation beyond their limited roles. The only exception proved out to be a monkelex species that phoom wing membranes stretched across the last two fingers. Their advantage was a unique turbine-like heart, artificially developed during the regime of Q, know what a human flyer

and a galaxy had such an adaptation. The staffer shaped organs sat in the middle of the Chess, directly funneling oxygen from the lungs to the bloodstream in a supremely efficient way. This meant that the flyers could develop energy consuming adaptations, such as large brains, without having to give up the power of fight. Not that the flyers were going to reclaim the sentience right away. Instead, they literally exploded into skies, filling the heavens with anything from bomb of sized sailors to impossibly fast predators that raised the sound. Their world was pristine, and there were plenty of niches to play in. Intelligence could wait a little more. The hand flap is some flying post-humans re-approach sentience in an entirely different way. Without the augmented metabolisms or the gravitational advantage of their siblings on distant planets, they had no choice but to give up their power flight in order to develop further. The hand flappers were one such species. Their wings, once used for butterfly-like flutters in the unearthly gardens of Q, had shrunken and reverted back into their manual condition. Their legs were likewise redepted, but they bore a split awkwardness from their perching ancestry. Only a singular and almost statistically simple flaw held them back from developing

civilization. In the course of their secondary atrophy, the wings of the hand flappers had become useless as hands as well. Their flag-like appendages were very useful in signaling amazing dances, but they couldn't tile missiles, construct shelter, or even manufacture basic stone tools. All that they could do with the useless hands was to display each other's sexual availability. So the hand flappers did just that, flashing and dancing their way to oblivion. The blind folk, when the queue came, they dug in and dug in deep. In size, several continents sized shelters, under the besieged world, they waited for the invaders to pass them by. It was a feudal gamble. The queue located the shelter caves, and we made their inhabitants without effort. Shelters became home to entirely different ecology, a realm of perpetual doctors fueled by the trickle of water and nutrients from the world outside. A surprisingly complex ecology developed on the scant resource. Tegantic pale insects, the descendants of common household pests, competed with dollias, birds, and rodents overfields of uvagron fungi. Predators were not uncommon. Almost crocodilian fish-betrolled, the underground streams and vast blind bats eccocaiting

with their noving precision took their toll in the residents of the cave floor. The kilometer high, ceilings of the shelters glowed in the dock with purging constellations of bioluminescent fungi, and in some cases, animals. People were present here as well, albeit in unfamiliar forms. They were more often heard than seen, as they tried to find a way in the dock with banshee-like screens. These albino-tropodites lived in a rumour sound in touch, not sight, was the gateway of perception. They had developed lawn, tactile fingers, enormous whiskers, and mobile areas to live in the dock. Where their eyes should have been, there was nothing but a patch of haunting, fallously smooth skin. Their perfect adaptation to the world of barkness had erased the most basic feature of human recognition. As adapted as they were, they were doomed. Before the blind folk had developed any kind of intelligence to crawl out of their geographical graves, their glacial constriction of their worlds continental plates snuff out their shelters, one by one. The keyword grotesquely creative in their redesign of the human worlds. It is Ryan C. Crest here. There was a recent social media trend which consisted of flying on a plane with no music, no movies,

no entertainment. But a better trend would be going to chumbacacino.com. It's like having a mini social casino in your pocket. Chumbacacino has over a hundred online casino-style games, all absolutely free. It's the most fun you can have online and on a plane. So grab your free welcome bonus now at chumbacacino.com. Sponsored by Chumbacacino. One group of misfortune souls, they transported to a planet with 36 times the amount of normal gravity and made them over for life in this bizarrely inhospitable realm. The results of these experiments resembled nightmare sketchings of Bosch, Dolly, or Picasso. They looked like cripples crossed between sheets of glass. Three out of their four limbs had become paddle-like organs for crawling. Only one of their arms remained a spindly tool of manipulation. This singular, wisdom them also doubled as an extra sensor like the antenna of an insect. Their faces were different horror as altogether. All pretensions of symmetry, the hallmark of terrestrial animals from Joel's fish onwards, were completely and utterly done away with. The bulging eyes

stared directly upward while the others scanned ahead in the direction of the creatures vertically opening Joel's. The ears were likewise distorted. Monstrous as they looked, these six men thrived in their heavy gravity environment. Once again, there was the usual explosion of species into every available niche, and the lopsiders consolidated their chances for a renewed sentence. The striders while the lopsiders were redesigned to live under an extreme gravity situation, and other species had been adapted for life under the exact opposite conditions, on a Jovian moon with one-fifth of Earth's gravity. It was a world of wonders where even the grass grew almost ten meters tall and the trees were beyond belief, towering to size as attained only by the skyscrapers of antiquity. In these surreal forests, lived equally spectacular fauna, the descendants of pets, pests, and livestock of humans, who in turn had been reduced to animosity as well. One could see them in the league tall forests, almost dancing among the trees as they reared higher and high to browse. Their arms, legs, and necks had been stretched and possibly thin, great flaps of skin blossomed throughout their bodice to dispense waste heat. Sometimes, they would even change their color in order to reflect light and keep cool. Overheating was a

great problem for the grotesque tall thin bodice. Although imposing, these rates were overdeveloped as to be securely fragile. Even on their gravitational leafy giving world, a forked shadow of their bones, and slipping down from a barn to approve to be fatal. Sometimes, on the open plains, even a strong wind could bring them down like the toppling masts. This survived entirely due to their merciful conditions of their garden world, which were about to change drastically. About two million years after the queue left the towering works of human art, a lineage of fearsome predators evolved from the terrestrial poultry that had gone feral on the planet. Reassembling a chin versions of their dinosaur ancestors, the predators swept through the garden world like wildfire extinguishing any species too fragile to escape or resist. The peaceful, delicate striders were among the first to go. The parasites humanity had diverged into two separate lineages on their world. On one hand, there were several races of almost astral apothec and cripples degraded by the queue for managing to turn back their initial wave of invasion. His simple attivism was too light a punishment for them. The twisted relatives, the parasites, made up the second part of their sentence. There were actually several kinds of parasitic

people ranging from tour to size ambulatory vampires to the more common, fissized variety that lived attached to their herds. Though as even a tiny, and a parasitic kind that infested the wombs of their female victims like ghastly, living abortions. All of these evolutionary cultures were played out under the careful scrutiny of the queue for 40 million years. The punishment was suburb, so elaborate that most of the artificial parasite host relationships died out when the queue left. Some submen learned to cleanse their tick-like relatives by drowning, burning, or even eating them. Others, like the vaginal parasites, died out as their aggressive method of parasitism effectively sterilized their hosts. Yet, one or two varieties did manage to cling onto the hosts of dominole suckers, muscular, gripping limbs, and sterile pain soothing saliva. But their success did not lie entirely in the strength of their parasitical advantages. They also learned to regulate their dumb hosts, not killing them by over-infestation, and thus ensuring their own long-term survival as well. In any case, totally single-sided relations were rare in any ecology. Natural or artificial. In millennial cycles, the cousin species vicious parasitism began to

give way into something more beneficial for both sides. The finger fishers. Their ancestors were trapped on an archipelago world, a planet's brinkel with many small continents and countless islands over interconnected networks of calm, chalicees. Like a magnifying EG into place was a terrestrial paradise in many respects, except that after the queue, no mines were left to enjoy it. On this vacant biosphere, evolution was quick to begin her blind, unpredictable dense. Once feral, the descendants of degenerate humans adapted themselves to every available niche, no matter how exotic, how it landish. One group learned to pluck fish from the lazy shores. A millennia passed, and they settled more into their pescatarial lifestyle. Longative fingers became ambulatory fish hooks. Teeth modified for a less generalized diet became needle-like affairs, lined up neatly in a long thin muzzle. In less than a few million years, the finger fishers established themselves as a prominent lineage. There was scarcely a beach, an island, or an estuary that was devoid of their pale, lanky forms. As prolific as they were, the fishers were still no better than animals. Their humanity would come only after another spasm about longish adaptations.

The hedonists. Even the blissful existence of the finger fishers would have seen par the sum to the hedonists, for their kind was not evolved, but designed for a life of pleasure. The queue had kept them as pampered pets, set loose in a tropical island world of succulent fruits, bountiful trees, in calm, lapping lakes full of sweet, bacterial mana. But the more, the hedonists were left as the only animal life on this place. They had no choice but to enjoy it to the fullest. In normal conditions, any given species were quickly crouted up such an utopian environment, but normal conditions had never been the point of a key redesign. They had altered their subjects so that they could conceive only after mating an enormous number of potential suitors, continually over a period of decades. While this took care of the potulation problem, it also made the species less adaptable. Without any point in sexual competition, natural selection would progress only at a glacial pace. Fortunately, their stable microcosm remained free of environmental catastrophes, even after the queue left. All these changes had also made the hedonist day. Their lives were juxtaposed routines of browsing, sleeping, and mind-blowing sex troubled

neither by the concerns of disease or pregnancy. Aloof and kefri, they enjoyed the most pleasurable times of all mankind's, albeit with the intellectual capabilities of three-year-olds. It didn't really matter, though. Who needed to think when having such a nice time after all? The insect-faggy nondescript, quaint human species abounded in the post-key galaxy. Hundreds of them lived out simple, unnoticed lives, never developing to become sentient, never learning their true heritage as star-born human beings. Most of them went extinct, not to be missed or even remembered. Those that lingered unmanaged to survive and shady, quiet niches never again making an impact on the celestial scheme of things. One such species was the insect-faggy. They had quietly adapted themselves for a diet of colonial insects and small animals. They had faces covered with leathery plates, clawed like hounds to dig out prey and worm like tongs to scoop them up. In all, they weren't special in any particular way, but a combination of galactic invasions, coincidence, and pure luck would literally make them the longest enduring of all unstarmen. The meek would inherit the cosmos, though not just yet. For now, the insect-faggy

were concerned only with the location of insect-colonies and the onset of the mating season. The spacers. It must be remembered that the star-people did not succumb entirely to the Q invasions. While their worlds fell away one by one, some star-people took refuge in a void of space. One after another, entire communities scrambled into generation ships and cast themselves off into the darkness, hoping to go unnoticed by the beings that have overrun their galaxy. Desperate times made for disparate measures. As the star-men had observed during their initial colonization of the galaxy, life and generation ships inevitably led to mass insanity and anarchy. This time, however, humans had to adapt themselves, or face extinction. Entire asteroid fields were confiscated and hollowed out to make spacers of unseen size. These hollow shells cradled bubbles of precious air and water, but no artificial gravity of any kind. It was discovered that a purely ethereal existence would ease the stress of interstellar exile, provided that its inhabitants were adapted for life inside such an environment. Furthermore, people were forced to change themselves. In an atmospherically sealed, gravity-free environment, their bones were left free to grow longer, thinner, and spinlier.

The circulatory and digestive systems were pressurized to avoid hot problems and congestion. The latter change had another advantageous side effect humans could navigate through the void with jets of air expel from modified anuses. Such experiments were numerous and usually plagued with failure, yet they did succeed in creating a future. Haltied in their moonsized airfield, weightless havens, the descendants of the star people managed to evade the scourge of Q, it was an endless diaspora. Even after the Q-Left, they would find themselves too divergent to have anything to do with their ancestral lifestyles. The survivors of the initial hurdle would never sit foot on a planet again. The ruin hunters of particular human species, singled up by its lucky access to the heritage of its stellar ancestors, would eventually get to play a leading role in the shape of things to come. They had gotten to the Q invasion with relatively little degradation. Yes, there had been reduced to the level of apes, but their recovery had been quick. Apparently, the Q had not worked as hard as oppressing their intelligence, nor had they made a comparable effort to wipe away the material traces of the starman. Even after millions of years, enormous ruins of the global urban spaces littered the

continents of their world. Thus did the ruin hunters earn their names. All of this development happened in an unnaturally short period of time, and sometimes the old acknowledges were not even understood as they were blindly replicated. Needless to say, such a piece of development put premature stresses on the social and political structures of the ruin hunters. They barely survived the five consecutive world wars that raked their planet to which, with their many clear exchanges. They made it through. Their baptism with fire had hardened and awakened them. The wars united them politically and pushed their technological capabilities even beyond the level of the starman. Incidentally, they also developed a dangerous form of addicts on its madness. The ruin hunters had come to believe that they were the sole descendants and the true errors of the star people, and they were ready and willing to do anything in order to claim their fictitious by gun-golden age. Sensions were born if any sort of periodical arrangement can be brought to the history of Mankind, the post-Covier of emerging human animals can be likened to a series of millennial dark ages. However, like any dark age situation, these periods of silence have finite ice bends. One by one, like stars emerging from the fog,

new civilizations were born out of the shot of remnants of Mankind. In some rare cases, the recovery was swift and straightforward. In most other situations, it came only after a lengthy series of adaptive radiations, extinctions, secondary diversifications. Within these lines of descent, there was as much distance between the initial post-humans and their intelligent descendants as between the first Cossaceous fuzzballs and homosavians. Sooner or later, human intelligence returned to the cosmos. But, except from their shared ancestry, these new people had nothing in common with people of today, or even each other. Extinction. Not all human animals made it through. In fact, it must be realized that the majority of post-Covic humans died at during the years of transition. Extinction. Atter and absolute death of an entire family, an entire community, an entire species, was rampant in the galaxy. There was nothing cruel or dramatic in all of this. Extinction was as common and as natural as speciation. Sometimes a species simply failed to adapt to competition or the abrupt change of its conditions. In other occasions, the numbers

dwindled across imperceptible gulfs of time. This way, with the other human animals faded out. In all of this death, however, there was new life. As one species vacated a certain niche, others would soon step into take its place. Adaptive radiations would follow, filling in the blanks with myriads of diverse and varied forms. Despite the fall and the flow of life would proceed, blazing and constant turnover. The snake people, descendants of the worms, the scorching sun, eventually called down and life flooded back to the surface from her subterrain in stronghold. As animals of all kinds exploded into the terrestrial niches that had been vacant for millennia, so did the descendants of the worms. On the surface, they found new opportunities as entire assemblages of serpentine grazes, swimmers, predators, and people. One form descended from tree climbing mammalian snakes we evolved the human intelligence that had lay in dormant for so long. They observed, contemplated and philosophized with novel, spirally coiled brains, and handled the world with a singular bovacan, born out from the remnants of their ancestors' feet. They looked nothing at all like their distant human ancestors, but their social development followed similar path.

Several agricultural world empires, followed by industrial revolution, social experiments, world wars, civil wars, and globalization. But then again, sociopolitical parallelism in history did not necessarily imply a similar or even recognisably human world. Modern cities of the global snake world were tangles of pipelike roads, branching, three-dimensional railroads, and windowless, whole-like buildings. For their nodded architecture deferred from region to region, these settlements generally looked like kilometre wide balls of glass, metal plastic, and cloth, wrapped so tightly that a human of today would find it impossible to move inside of them. Plows as in open areas were totally absent as the present inefficational obstacles and areas of insecurity. Their evolutionary background in the trees had made us snake people into borderline agaraphobes. None of these, of course, was unusual to the snakes in any way. Their relatively alien lifestyle was so particular to them as irresistuous. All across the world, their arterial cities throbbed with people, each with their own joys, sorrows, and chores. Outlives as human as any other intelligent beings.

Hey, it's Baba Wallace from 2311 Racing. You know what feels like forever? Sitting on a plane waiting for take-off. Good thing I've got Jumbo Casino, with daily boost and social casino games on tap. This is a kind of fun that makes time fly. Why not turbocharge your downtime? Play now at JumboCasino.com. Let's Jumbo. Sponsored by Jumbo Casino, no purchase necessary. VGW Group Void were prohibited by law, 21 plus terms and conditions apply. The killer folk, descendants of the human predators, the carnivorous also rebounded in a civilization. The journey involved a series of changes during which they lost the adaptations that had allowed them to injure the top predators of the world. The saber-teeth became fragile and thin, useful only as organs of social display. The hook-like thumb claws were also reduced, but not deleted. In their place, the last two digits rotated perpendicularly to become new-fangled graspers. All this gracility, however, did not mean weakness. Although they were no longer specialized for hunting, the killer folk could still kill with their bare hands, but only if they really wanted to.

What enormous claws and teeth could not do, they could easily achieve with bow, arrow, a flintlock repeater or gas rifle. They had descend from predators gave the killer folk a unique social profile. Almost all of their religion's sadritchals allowing for periods of completely natural animalistic hunts and jewels. This necessity of venting these at a vista coach is also led to the formation of religious hunter-nebilities. Privilege wars who were skilled in the arts of hunting, war, and murder. Entire societies were assembled underneath these ruling classes. Communities that erupted once every year into an orgy of death, sex, and prayer. For thousands of years, nomadic warriors, together with the vast terrors of one's human livestock, chased and battled each other across a chessboard of continents. All of this chaos was to be swept apart with the advent of modernity. In inner development comparable to an industrial revolution, one nation pack of killer's devised methods are settled, intensive factory farming. Organized state structure, secularism, and technological leapfrogging were quick to follow. Needless to say, such developments polarised the world into bands of progressive, developed factory hudders and increasingly fanatical hunting states.

While one side can den their old animal ways, the other side embraced them with blind zealotry. This was the crisis of modernity, the boganization of the progressive and conservative factions on the road to global unity. Fortunately, the killers managed to pull themselves through even after drifting dangerously close to global conflict at certain points. The tool breeders, descendants of the swimmers they used to be simple creatures, descendants of abouted people that had taken to the sea. The remote, sapient ancestors would have given such beings no chance of ascension come back, for they thought their technological offenses were impossible in the fluid medium of the oceans. But the swimmers disproved such predictions by funding one of the most advanced and most outrageously alien cultures of the entire human lineage. Fire, the cornerstone of industrial engineering, was almost impossible to sustain and use underwater. But the breeders simply choose another path when complex toolmaking proved impractical. They began to breed their tools and machines for them. It had started long before the species was even intelligent. In the endless variety of life in the seas, the swimmers always adapted and controlled the organisms that were useful in some way. Once domesticated, these creatures

were willingly or unintentionally modified throughout official selection and conditioning. The process was slow, but once underway its effects were formidable. A modern city of the breeders was a side to behold. Huge, heart-like creatures pumped at nutritious foods to network a self-repairing, living conduits. This was their equivalent of a power grid, and it reached every single one of the breeders' huge exoskeleton dwellings, powering bioluminescent lights, flickering cephalopodskin televisions, medicinal sea squirts, and countless other devices that had been brought from living creatures. Their advances in biology had risen exponentially until genetic engineering was completely mastered. Modern breeders did not even need to use animals. A simple manipulation of culture tissues and stem cells could give solutions to any problem at hand. The mastery of genetics had conquered many obstacles. The awning ocean depths as well as the planet's few tiny line masses were now firmly within the breeders' grasp. However, they were not content with mere planetary dreams. New forms and bizarre creatures were still being developed in daring attempts to conquer the one realm that was most hostile to life. Sealed in their living ships, the breeders wished to return

to the stars. Sorosapiens' life stuck at the lizard herders one of humanity's eventual inheritors was not even human. They came from the reptilian stop that had proliferated doing a demise of the lizard herders. There was a true case of a world turned upside down. As the humans degenerated into witless animals, the cold blooded reptiles prospered in a tropical climate of their planet. Melania passed, and they began to produce increasingly smarter forms, one of which distantly resembling featherless versions of the predatory dinosaurs of the past, actually crossed over the threshold of sentience and built up a series of civilizations. These fledgling cultures were quick to understand the true origin of the monstrous ruins littering their planet. Ruins that until then had been considered natural aberrations of timeless memorabilia of gods. Now, however, they saw the intermingled ruins of the kaya and the star people for what they really were. It was through this understanding that the biologically unrelated sources took up the cultural identity of humanity. In their archaeological efforts, the sources began to understand that the animals they used for food and labor were descended from the founders of their very existence. And somewhere in the stars lurked the forces that

malformed them, forces greater than the star people, dark forces that my simile return. The human animal served as a reminder, just as Pandora ever said that if the sorrows happens wanted to assure the continued existence in the cosmos, they had to be watchful. The pressure of such a reality put their cultures under enormous stress. Some factions turned to made up religions and remained ignorant under an umbrella of comforting fantasies. Others acknowledged the threats of the galaxy, but reverted to a paranoid rhetoric of conservationism. The galaxy had scared them greatly. Finally, there were those who acted to face the odds however great they might be. Conflicts and even wars were not uncommon between these three factions. In the end, the censure's law and dispute began to resolve in the progressive factions' favor as they expanded the spheres of knowledge, influence, and activity. These soror sapiens became as human as any other civilization opening up to the galaxy. The modular people descendants of the colonials. The blind workings of evolution followed the unlikeless paths made use of the most fleeting opportunities. The very existence of the modular people was testimony to

this fact. Their ancestors, the colonials, would have been seen as help as cripples by almost any observer. They lacked coherent organs and their existence was limited to carpeting water shows like mats of algae. What as degenerators they were, the colonials were resilient survivors, able to hold on to life in the harshest of conditions. As time passed, they began to organize themselves and differentiated coloners instead of emotionous mats. In the coloners, each human cell could perform a singular function and benefit from the union of others. Thus began the great age of organization during which different coloners competed with each other by developing specialized human cells that would give them an edge in this struggle for life. Some coloners grew enormous tap routes that were able to siphon resources from far away. Others abandoned routes altogether and began to move themselves on starfish-like foot statements. Some coloners came up with unit equipped with claws and poisons, taking competition to a brand new, deadly level. Others responded to the threat with armor plating or watch yourselves equipped with enormous size. The eventual winner of the Galonol Arms race was a sentient colony, organized around hyper-specialized units whose entire

purpose was to direct the others. These coloners spread around the planet as they adapted the parts of their rivals to function within themselves. Thus were the modular people born. Living in fully industrialized megalopoli, they came in an indescribable variation of shapes and sizes. Anything from castle like Guardian forest to diminutive Scotland curries was a member of the modular hall. They could combine with each other and split up or exchange parts as need to present themselves. The only thing constant in all of their protein existence was their mental and cultural unity. Due to their biological structure, these people had managed the impossible. They were actually living in a world of peace and utopian equality, where everybody was happy to be parts of greater, united halls. Trosapiens, descendants of the flyers, the flyers, super-churched hearts had given them an evolutionary winning hand, and they diversified to fill up the heavens. It was only a time before the competition in the skies got too intense, even for their own souped up metabolism. Some lineages gave up their wings and returned to the ground, living as deferring sorts of predators, herbivores, and even swimmers. Their aerial adaptations gave them an edge on the ground, and they produced forms of stupendous size and agility. They were

wonderful beings, but no sentience came out of the terrestrial sky beast. Instead, civilization floured in the skies. One species, from a line of waiting, stoke-like predators, evolved to brain that was large enough to imagine and act upon the world. Their feet, already versatile to catch livery, swamped, willing prey, got even more articulate and assumed the role of their hands. As a compensation, they lost some of their aerial streamlining, but what they could not do with their bodies, they were more than able to make up with their minds. The power of flight made the Trosapiens a global fuck before they could invent nations and borders. With such an inherent ease of travel, ideas, and individuals diffuse too fast for social differences to ossify. Acting with a planetary awareness, they found their gigantic terrestrial relatives, raised cities of purchase and flooding towers, harnessed the atom, and began to gaze up to the stars without having to compensate too much from the average individual's social welfare. I'm without dividing up into quarrel some factions. As egalitarian as their life seemed, they paid a stunting, inevitable price. The hots, even in its boosts its day, had trouble supporting their power of flight and grotesquely large brains at the same time. As a consequence,

their species had an ephemeral lifespan. A Trosapiens was sexually mature at two, middle-aged by 16, and usually dead by 23 years of our time. This grim cycle caused them to appreciate every moment of their existence dearly, and they pondered upon it with a feverish intensity. A shelf of scrolls by Trosapiens philosophers would have been the envy of every human library. In their cities, life blazed away with unreal speed, rushing past and me fleeting deadlines. As a species, the angelic flies were victims of heart disease. His symmetric people descendant of the lopsiders. Although contorted by gravity, the lopsiders managed to regain their sentience and develop a civilization in a short few million years. Scott, pancake-like buildings spread all over their planet. These constructs looked like squash bunkers, and they were never more than a few meters high. They did not seem like much, but such structures were entrances to underground homes, schools, hospitals, temples, universities, but also embassies, prisons, asylums, command centers, and arsenals. They lived strange lives, but the lopsiders were human in all of the virtues and evils. Thus, it was only natural for them to expand outwards and look for new frontiers to

colonize. Fortunately, their solar system hybrid other planets similar to the lopsider homeworld in almost all respects. All respects accept gravity, but they weren't willing to let such trivial details stop them. Throughout their history, humans had always risked changing themselves to preserve their future. It was a risky gamble, but it had paid off since the days of the Martian Americans. But reengineering the flattened lopsider body for a benign gravity was a monumental task indeed. Suffice it to say that the experiments took millennia to achieve even limited success. After countless attempts, the asymmetric people were born or rather made. Their bodies were changed considerably. What had been shoveled like toes to slither through the high gravity doubt had become centipede legs, and the singular, cross-ping hand, was elongated to an extreme degree. Their grotesque faces had been inverted and turned upside down after reverting from a

flando-like existence. Twisted as they were, members of this new race enjoyed tremendous advantages over their flattened forefathers. Their social development also paralleled that of the by-gun Martian Americans. Once again, there was a golden age followed by increasing tensions and interplanetary war. But unlike the Martians, the asymmetrics ruthlessly exterminated their parent race and went on to rule the solar system alone. On the way, they stumbled across the remains of the queue and the star people, and they advanced immensely. Tryumford on their own realm, they turned to the heavens for further experts. Symbiotes, descendants of the parasites as tan pass, the relationship between the parasites and their huskot connected to such a degree that it began to involve a cooperation of the individuals. There were no longer single-sided relationships. In exchange for the host's nutritious blood, the parasites offered their heightened senses as early warning against predators and other hazards. A great arm's race of symbiotic relationships thus commenced. Certain parasites offered their host's larger eyes, other sharper senses of smell, hearing, or even additional defensive weapons in the shape of venomous saliva,

malodorant sprays, or an extra bite. The host returned the favor, with longer-running legs stronger bodies, and specialised, ergonomic nesting sites rich in blood vessels and covered an insulating fur. Different complexes of parasite and host species evolved, compatible only amongst themselves. The development of such creatures was in a way reminiscent of the great module colonis, thriving on their own world-like ears away. But unlike the modules, the components of the symbiotes belong to different species instead of modified versions of the same basic organism. Individuality, both relationships led to the same point sentience. In this occluded forest of a certain continent, a new parasitic species developed. They did not have the ballistic-posen sprays, infectious stings, or the grossly hypertrophed arm claws of their relatives. Instead, these parasites offered a simple bargain, an ability to think in return of total submission. Initially, this relationship was more like a horse and its rider, but after a few hundred thousand years, the symbiotes could manipulate the host's leg puppets through a combination of tactile and olfactory signals. A few more millennia in these combined beings

developed in order not unlike our own, complete with countries, politics, and even more, albeit reduced in the newly globalising world culture. In this age, technology filled most functions of the host, but a thriving husbandry of these creatures still remained due to tradition and simple efficiency. An average symbiot would begin the day on his business host and move onto a more comfortable domestic one when he returned home after work. And perhaps in the olfactory television, he would smell news of the excavations of the million-year-old heroines, of the marvelous discoveries salvaged from the storm and wrecks, or to the enormous radio rays that rose everywhere to listen to the stars. It was a pattern that was being repeated all over. Cell people, descendants of the finger fishers, the finger fishers, were already among the most divergent of the post-human races. With harpoon-like digits and almost crocodilian muzzles, they looked nothing like their parental stock. But even this form would look conservative to their ascension descendants. With many small scattered islands, isolated subcontinents, and differentiated niches, the homo was an evolutionary cold room where isolated members of certain species could, under the right circumstances, evolve into wildly different forms.

This condition was similar to the island realms of Madagascar, Galapagos, or Hawaii on Old Earth. Except this time, it was on a global scale. Some descendants of the fishers trapped on low on the islands grew smaller and developed their fishing claws into graceful wings. Took directly to the sea and became analogous of whales, dolphins, and mossesores. Within this evolutionary bubbling, one particular lineage gave rise to the ancestral sail people. They too elongated their fingers into wings, but these were not used for flight. Instead, they became sails that drove them effortlessly across the oceans. With fingers turned into the sails, they used their mouths and extended tongues to catch their pelagic prey. These organs eventually assumed the role of the fishers' long atrophic, dexterous hands. The need to better navigate the endless sea-putting, inevitable pressure on their memories, and the sailors' brains grew correspondingly. It was only a matter of time until one of these navigators became smart enough to think. Even when sentient, the sail people still needed a long time to achieve any sort of social stability. The scattered world made for a tremendous diversity of cultures, which competed in

thought just as resiliently. Across generations, until Fertil is a friable warrior's battled each other, an epic spawning, pointless conflicts. Namedic warriors in power to side is inevitably came into being, prolonging the uncontrollable cycle of violence. Only when a certain warrior tried to develop warfare on an industrial scale, under state society needed to support it, and then, only when this notion of modernity gave rise to an idea of peace, did the sail people finally manage to unify. Generations of blood had stained the oceans for far too long. Bug faces, descendants of the insectifagy. Over time, their insectivorous ancestors came to resemble their prey. Hardened, leathery faceplates once used for defense against stings and bites ossified and became integrated into the jaw structure. Their hands and feet, with reduced numbers of fingers and toes, developed into pinso-like affairs. Even now metabolism reverted partially into ectothermia in the balmy, lazy climate of their planet. But it was none of those adaptations that gave them the edge and survival. Simply put, a congenital defect led them to regain their sentience. Even after the smothering of the queue, the genes of the star people remained dormant in S.Ls.

True pure coincidence, one lineage of the insectifagy developed an adivistic throwback resulting in larger brains, which just happened to be useful in cracking open insect nests with crude stone tools. It was all downhill from their onwards. Although millennia long in itself, the development from stone axe to spaceship was an eye-blinking geological time. Like many other species, the bug faces passed through a consecutive cycle as agrarian, in their case high farming, empires. Colonial endeavors, industrialization, massive world wars, and finally, globalized world states. But there was one thing that set their development apart from all other post-human species. They faced another alien invasion. History does not record much about the invaders except that unlike the queue, theirs was a singular effort, and it was beaten off in an intense cycle of orbital interestrial wars. Although vancourish, invaders did succeed in leaving behind their traces. They introduced their own flora and fauna, which flourished in the bug face of home planet law and after they departed. More importantly, they embodied the poor bug verses with pathological interspecies xenophobia to the point that they were fearful even of their post-human cousins on other stars. Through an ironic twist of fate, their

fears would be more unjustified. But not just yet. The bug faceers still had time. Astromorphs, descendants of the Spacers initially refugees, the Spacers were quick to master the vastness of interstellar space. Their isolated space arcs joined together and multiplied to form a gigantic interlockyard fact that was large enough to contain entire worlds. But no planets lay inside the Astromorph capital, only cavernous, gravity-freebubbles, where the inhabitants could finally develop to the fullest. Free from the constraints of weight, the boders grew spindly and insectile, with individual digits extending into multitudes of thin, versatile limbs. Other than these, they only developed organs where they derived jet's fincters, which went on to become the principal means of locomotion. But above all were their brains, their bulging, swollen brains. With no hindrance from gravity, the human brain could grow into unprecedented sizes. Each generation devised experiments that produced offspring with greater cranial capacity, giving rise to beings who went through their everyday lives thinking in concepts and structures guessed they comprehensible to people today. Physiological limitations of the human mind had long been debated.

Now it was established that these limits were indeed real, and individuals who could break them would likewise conquer new grounds in philosophy, art and science. Everything changed. Yet, some aspects of humanity, such as the basic desire to expand, remain. To this end, the Astromorphs built great fleets of globular saboks and spread their influence across the heavens into every stellar cluster in every star system. Within less than a thousand years, the galaxy was straddled by a new and far more intelligent alien empire of man. Strangely enough, his dominion included known of the newly emerging post-Human species, for its masters had completely lost interest in planets, thus stunting gravity chainballs of dirt and ice. The newborn ox settled comfortably in the outer rims of solar systems, quietly observing the lives of their strobing relatives. For the first time in history, there were actual gods and immuriate human skies. They were silent and weren't even noticed for most of the time, but their watchfulness was ultimately going to pay off. Second, galactic empire. Over time, the sentient post-Human began to reach out to the galaxy. They inevitably stumbled across the ruins of the starmen and figured out their interstellar

ancestry. These discoverers were followed by a realization that there might be others like them unimaginable distances away. Thus, the fledgling civilization set about to probing the skies. The empire began little more than a few million years after the Q-Left. A few thousand years later, the initial species were joined by the tall breeders, hailing out from the ocean depths through living radio arrays. The second wave of sentient species joined in during the follow in 10 million years as the modular hull, turusapiens, and the fledgling asymmetrics contacted their celestial cousins. Finally, in the next 20 million years, newly evolving civilization such as the Sororous snake people, parasites, symbiotes, and the sail people successfully contacted the burgeoning galactic empire. The bug frisers were aware of the whole process,

but due to their xenophobic experience, they only opened up after a staggering 40 million years of silence. This union was an empire of speech, for actual travel between the stars was too difficult to be practical. Like the bygone colonies of the starmen, the post-Human's cooperated through the unrestricted exchange of information and experience. Although covering every aspect of an astonishing variety of cultures, the empire's efforts focused on two main issues, political unification, though not homogenization, and galactic awareness. Constant readiness for possible alien invasions. Everybody had come across a remains of the mysterious key, nobody wanted to repeat of the same scenario. When the second empire ran into asthmoths who had silently saturated the galaxy of their own empire of man, they feared the worst. But luckily for them, the godlight beings were not interested in the second empire, nor any of its worlds. The asthmoths were given a wide berth and accepted as they were, incomprehensible, on nippodent forces of nature. This coordinated effort lasted for almost 80 million years, during which as members species attained previously unimaginable levels of culture, warfare, and technology. Each species colonized a few dozen

worlds of their own, in which nations, cultures, and individuals lived to the fullest potentials of their existence. Needless to say, all of this was possible only through constant communication and a total openness to the galaxy. Most communities took this for granted and dutifully participated in galactic dialogues. There were others silent, darkened beings who refused to join in. Through them would come the ruin of the empire. Gravital descendants of the Ruin Haunders. After the lesson of the queue, second galactic empire kept a constant watch against alien invasion, ironically, neglected to look among themselves. The second great invasion of the galaxy came not from outside, but from within. The Ruin Haunders, who were lucky enough to inherit the secrets of the starman and queue, when other species were mere animals, had experienced a tremendous advance in technological prowess. All in all, they were as sophisticated as, if not more, than most astramorphs of the void. But their ascendancy was not a sane one. Recall that most Ruin Haunders were already deranged with a twisted assumption of being the soul and haireddoers of the starman. They refused to communicate with their relatives on other planets and kept to their own affairs. This

neuroticoopers assumed truly dangerous proportions after the Ruin Haunders modified themselves. The origin of this modification lay in an early catastrophe. The Ruin Haunders' son was undergoing a rapid phase of expansion, and the species, advanced as it was, could do nothing to stop it. So the Haunders did the best thing they could, and changed their bodies. The invenal conditions of the solar expansion meant that a biological reconstruction was totally out of the question. Thus, the Haunders replaced their bodies with machines, floating spheres of metal that moved and molded their environment through subtle manipulations of gravity fields. In earlier versions, the spheres still created the organic brains of the last Haunders, but in successive generations, ways of containing the mind within quantum computers were devised, and the transformation became absolute. The Ruin Haunders were replaced by a completely mechanical gravatal. While not even organic, the gravatal still retained human dreams, human ambitions, and human delusions of grandeur. This, combined with the mechanical bodies, allowed them to cross space with ease and made into stellar war-refrightening possibility. The machine invasion took a long time for the gravatal to

prepare. Propulsion systems were perfected and new bodies capable of understanding the interstellar jumps were devised. But when they finally decided that the time was nigh, nothing survived their slaughter. The invasions followed the brutally simple plan the target world's sons were blockaded, and their light was trapped behind specially constructed million mile sales. If the dying worlds managed to resist, an asteroid of two finished them off. Enormous invasion fleets were built, but it was rarely necessary to deploy them. The machines had caught their cousins completely off guard. The great dyings, all of which occurred in a relatively quick 10,000 year period, stretched the boundaries of genocide and horror. Almost all of the new human species. He neat beings who had injured mass extinctions, navigated evolutionary knife edges, and survived to build worlds of their own vanished without a trace. Even the queue had been loyal to life. They had disordered and subjugated the victims, but in the end they had allowed them to survive. To the machines, however, life was a luxury. Such thorough ruthlessness was not ironically born out of any kind of actual hatred. The gravatal, long accustomed to their mechanical bodies, simply did not acknowledge the life of

their organic cousins. When this apathy was mixed with their enclaims as the solos of the star-man, the extinctions were carried out with the banality of, say, an engineering done in abandoned building. Under the reign of the machines, the galaxy entered a brand new dark age. When considering the invasion the machine invasion brought on the greatest wave of extinctions the galaxy had ever seen, for it was not a simple act of war by one species against another, but a systematized destruction of life itself. When considering such a vast event, it is easy to get lost in romantic delusions. It is almost as easy to write off the gravatal as evil as it is to consider the entire episode as nihilistic and of everything kind of scenario. Both of these approaches are, as they would be in any historical situation, monumental fallacies. To begin with, the gravatal were not evil, at least not to their own perception. These beings, although mechanical, still live their lives as individuals and operated inside coherent societies. They had surrendered their organic heritage, but their minds were not the coal, calculate in engines of true machines. Even after given orders that we destroy a billion souls,

the gravatal would have a home to go to, and as incredibly as it might sound, a family and a circle of friends towards which it felt genuine affection. Despite being endowed with compassion, the harsh treatment of the organics was the result of, as mentioned before, a simple inability to understand their right to live. Furthermore, the gravatal did not constitute a singular, indivisible hull whose entire purpose was to direct the universe. True, their technological advancement had allowed them to form a pangalactic entity, but within itself the machine empire was divided into political factions and even religious fates. Superimposed over these fault lines were the daily lives and personal affairs of families and individuals. Like any sentient being, they had a sense of identity and thus deferring agendas. Nor did the machine invasion mean the end of everything. There certainly was a widespread destruction of life, but what was lost was only organic life. Consuming energy, directing it for a reproduction thought, and even evolution, the machines were as alive as any carbon-based organism. Despite the turnover, life of a sort survived. And as would be seen, this life even preserved some of its organic predecessors. Subjects, many descendants of the bugfacers.

The bugfacers, racially shy, and xenophobic due to their background of repeated alien envisions, became the first species to face the gravatal onslaught. As aeronic as their fates seemed, the bugfacers were the luckiest of the post-humans. Instead of being exterminated like the rest of the cousins, they survived as the only organic beings in the machine empire. The precise reasons for their retention remain unknown to this day. Perhaps the machines hadn't perfected their ruthless apathy by then, or perhaps the pitied depot organics and allowed them to maintain a stunted parody of an existence. Whatever the reason, the bugfacers endured, but they hardly resembled their original ancestors anymore. Genetic engineering, the lost art of the galaxy trading queue, and later, the tool breeders as well, was mastered almost as comprehensively by the machines. Not as stating to what the beings which they did not really consider to be alive, they spliced their way into the bugfacered DNA, producing generations of literal bombinations. Would a woman or man of today show any apprehension towards resembling a computer, or even a recycling trash? Such was the attitude of the triumphant crevadel. Thus, multitudes of subjects were produced, distorted to such an extent that even the meddling of the queue

seemed comparatively timid. Most of them were used as servants, caretakers, and manual laborers. These were the lucky forums. Some submemories were reduced to the level of cell cultures, useful only for gas exchange and waste filtering. Others were molded into completely artificial ecologies, broke simulations that served only as entertainment. Some machines, with their still human ambitions, took this practice into a new level and produced living works of art, doomed, worn off creatures who existed purely as biological andachronisms. Be it as a tool, slave or entertainment, humanity narrowly held onto its biological heritage, while its machine cousins reign supreme for an unbelievable 50 million years. The other machines recalled that despite its galaxy-cradling might, the machine empire was not homogenous. It contained dozens of different factions that did not always agree on everything, including the treatment of their downtrodden biological subjects. Tyler Reddick here from 2311 Racing. The rush of racing? Nothing beats it, but Chumpa Casino comes close. Chumpa's got fast spins, fun games, daily bonuses, and all the action you

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All hell broke loose, and the machine-impact, the apparently seamless monolith of the galaxy, experienced its first short, bitter civil war. The war did not cause any lasting damage, but a plainly illuminated one fact, the greatest entity the galaxy had ever seen was not without its problems. Before all the machines in the longer run, the internal struggles of the machine empire just might have led to its downfall. But there was no need to wait that long, as the empire died as shorter, but immensely more cataclysmic death. For a long time, the machine and the astramorph empires have been eyeing each other nervously. They hadn't yet run into open confrontations, as the astramorphs kept mostly to their outer space arcs, and the machine empire occupied the planets. In almost every inhabitable solar system of the galaxy, the same upside-down tension built up between organic beings living in the void and machines inhabiting perfectly terrestrial worlds. Horror was even the balance between the two rival empires. Moreover, this balance involved forces strong enough to destroy planets on mass. Each side knew that any kind of war would result in mutual annihilation, and only insanity could start such a conflict. Well, the post-civil war empire of the machines did go insane in a sense. In order to

devour attention from internal struggles, it needed a new enemy to consolidate its rival factions against. How and why is that this enemy came to be the astramorphs? It is unnecessary and nearly impossible to describe the carnage that followed. The conflict lasted anywhere up to a few million years, and a resulting loss of life both mechanical and organic made the initial machine genocide seem irrelevant. When the cosmic desetal, the winners displayed themselves. The concoys, with the astramorphs, change beyond recognition after 50 million years of continual self-perfection. They grossly hyper to the brain stretched out like wings on either side, and the finger derived limbs formed an intricate set of cells and legs endowed with superior technology and limitless patients. These beings almost completely destroyed the machines, despite losing a substantial number of their own species. The conflict also thrust the astramorphs into the affairs of their long neglected human cousins. As impossible as it seemed, some of the machine subjects had survived the ordeal. Now the astramorphs could no longer look away. With the machines gone, it was up to the astramorphs to clean up after them. They took up the subjects and used their genetic heritage

to populate entire planets. During this age of reconstruction, which lasted for another two million years, many astramorph oil build is emerged as true gods, creating inhabited worlds almost out of scratch. Their subjects, meanwhile, became the inheritors of a truly new, war-torn phoenix of a galaxy. The post-war galaxy. When replenishing lost worlds, the astramorph gods also took measures to ensure the continued safety of their creations. The above rise of the machines had shown that, unless carefully regulated, the wealth of the stars could always host a race of pan-galactic usurpers. The astramorphs, watchful but ever-transparent, did not want to interfere directly. Instead, they produced a restriol version of their own kind to regulate the galaxy. They adapted their delicate, ethereal fingers into spiderery limbs and shrunk their brains considerably to readjust the rigours of gravity. The resulting sideline was stunted by astramorphs' standards, but still it produced emigods in every sense of the word. These beings, known often as the terrestrial spacers, or simply the terrestrials, nurtured and controlled the development of the post-war civilizations on many planets. They acted as caretakers, prophets, kings, and emperors, but also as grim reapers as the occasion

dictated. The endeavor did not always proceed as smoothly as planned, of course. Most of the time, the newborn races refused to heed their mentors, and even in several cases rebelled against them. Needless to say, this crime was always punished for the swift extinction. Furthermore, even the terrestrials grew corrupted. Instead of offering guidance, terrestrials on many planets simply played God, weaving contrived religions around themselves to shamelessly exploit the subjects. It was not ethical or even productive, but this method seemed to guarantee more stability than actually trying to bring up the new races. This way, or another, organic sentient reclaimed its dominance in the galaxy. The new empire, managed by terrestrials, populated by a myriad descendants of the subjects and an overseen ultimately by the omniscient astramorphs' chief greater progress and a longer lasting common of galaxy than all of its predecessors combined. The new machines. Long after, therefore, from grace, the machines still clung on to existence. During the initial aftermath of the war, the astramorphs had planned to exterminate every last one of them only to discover that the machines were simply too useful to destroy. For millions of

years, they had perfected the interface between mind and machine to such an extent that they could live and operate in the most inhospitable conditions. Such beings, deprived of their galaxy's straddling power, were making valuable contributions to research and exploration in the new empire. Those are a sense of poetic justice in all of this. The machines, who once distorted biological life forms to their whim, were finally treated to a similar fate. To begin with, to begin with, the astramorphs completely scrapped their ability of self-contained gravitational manipulation, the very force that had rendered them invulnerable in the first place. They were given finite lifespans and slightly non-imaginations so that history would not repeat itself. The de-gradatory nature of these changes, however, did not imply an overall regression. Unlike their ancestors, the new machines were endowed with nanotechnological borders that could remodel themselves continuously, which meant that they could come in every shape and size imaginable and then some that could not. A machine citizen could live for some time in the void of the space, conducting research, and then transform into a completely different body plan for a holiday on a cometary halo, tropical jungle, or methane ocean. He or she would also make the trip

personally by growing temporary hyperdrives and rounded engines. Despite their breathtaking versatility, the machines were never as common or prominent, even after completely accepting their role as lily citizens of the new empire. The greatest wars and conceivable history had ingrained the organics with too deep a mistrust of their mechanical neighbours, and the new machines were always treated with a degree of discrimination. The sins of their fathers had come to shackle this most splendorous of all human species. Second contact. With successive ways of machine-aided discovery and colonization, the new empire grew exponentially. Such was the growth of wealth and progress that its description would need to use of concepts that remain and explore today. To talk with the man of today about the commons and goings of the new empire would be akin to giving lectures of 20th century geopolitics to hunter-gather. This magnificent entity was not blind to the universe around it. It turned in its eyes, ears, and sensors, and probe the events of the surrounding galaxies. The new galactic suspected that the surrounding nebulae might also have their indigenous folk, and it was wise to contact them before a misunderstanding or conflict could occur. On a darker side, these observations also served as lookouts for potential

invaders. Even then, the memory of the queue was not forgotten. The discovery was eventually made. One of the neighbouring galaxies was showing patterns of activity that were the unmisticable signs of ascension to organisation. Some thinkers reveled in the discovery of a new civilization while others feared a return of the queue. Fortunately, the second encounter with an alien species proved to be a peaceful one. Perhaps the intelligences of both galaxies were finally mature enough to meet without quarreling. The other galaxy was dominated by connected unions of different beings, presided over by various kinds of avosifoli, bizarre creatures that resembled giant snakes with heads on both ends, one of which bore a secondary retractable body that they would use to interact with the world. Apparently, they had undergone alternating series of regressions, evolutionary radiations, and self-imposed genetic makeovers just as humanity had. With all of their wild difference, the avosifoli were welcome. They were the first, but surely not the last. Earth we discovered the purpose of this work is not to describe the limitless progress that followed the cross-galactic contact. One could go indefinitely chronically how the united

galaxies re-encanted and subdued the queue, how they cradled their sons with artificial shells multiplying their inhabitable zones a billion fold. How they could cross into stellar space with wormholes and mid-travel a thing of the past. Ultimately, descendants of those beings even concatenate self, prolonging the existence of their minds and definitely via rejuvenating technologies. For a time, all men were gods. But from your vantage point, one discovery truly stood out in the sorgi of advance. Compared with gargantuan achievements like the taming of space and the construction of starshells, it was a mere blip, a revelation of long forgotten trivia. This was the rediscovery of Earth, a birthplace of humanity, where the omnipresent astrom off the stock gliding machine and the millions of humble resident races could all trace their origins. It was made quietly by singular research at gomen the vestiges of forgotten history a decade after decade. Millions of years of wars, invasions, and extinctions had bared the evidence thoroughly and comprehensively. When she finally came across her futable evidence, nobody was around to celebrate. That would come later. The written. The discovery sparked a certain amount of interest, though nowhere as much as other breakthroughs

had. To most humans of the cosmos, their ancestral birthplace was simply an interesting piece of information, a piece of trivia was which they had lost all ties. Still, a ship was sent forth and it landed without ceremony. But now there was no intelligence left on Earth too far, far away from the main centers of population it had been completely ignored, guns stagnant, and feral. But still, it was home. When the explorer stepped out, human feet trod on Earth once more. After an absence of five hundred sixty million years, mankind was back home. All tomorrow's. I must conclude my words with a confession. Mankind, a very species which I've been chronicling from its terrestrial infancy to its domination of the galaxies, is extinct. All of the beings which she heard of in the proceed in recordings, from the lolly worm to the wind-riding sail people from the megalomaniac gravatal to the ultimate galactica. The lactic citizens lie a billion years dead. We're only beginning to piece the story together. What you read was our best approximation of the truth. Why did they disappear? Perhaps it was a final unimaginable war of annihilation, one that transcended a very meaning of conflict. Perhaps it was a gradual breakup of the

United galaxies and every race facing their private and slowly afterwards. But perhaps the wildest theory suggests it was a mass migration to another plane of existence. A journey into somewhere, sometimes something else. But the bottom line is, we honestly don't know. Ultimately, however, what happened to humanity does not matter. Like every other story, it was a temporary one. Indeed long, but ultimately ephemeral. It did not have a coherent ending, but then again it did not need to. The tale of humanity was never its ultimate domination of a thousand galaxies or its mysterious exit into the unknown. The essence of being human was none of that. Instead, it lay in the radio conversations of the still-human machines, in the daily lives of the bizarrely twisted bug-faces, and in the slow-songs of the kefir hedonists, the rebellious demonstrations of the first true motions, and in a way the very life you lead at the moment. Many throughout history were unaware of this most basic fact. The queue, in dreams of an ideal future, distorted a world that came across. Later on, the gravatal, with their insane desire to recreate the past, created the biggest

massacres in the history of the galaxy. Even now, it is sickeningly easy for beings to get lost and false-grand narratives, living out completely driven lives and pursuit of nonexistent ultimates, ideals, climaxes, and golden ages. In blindly thinking that their stories serve absolute ends, such creatures almost always end up harming themselves, if not those of random. To those like them, look at the story of man and come to your senses. It is not the destination but the trip that matters, and what you do today influences tomorrow, not the other way around. Love today and sees ultimoros. And that is the end. Thank you for listening, and I will see you in the next one. Hey, it s Bubba Wallace from 2311 Racing. You know what feels like forever? Sitting on a plane waiting for takeoff. Good thing I ve got Jumba Casino. With daily boost in social casino games on tap, this is a kind of fun that makes time fly. Why not turbocharge

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