Short Stories

Chicken Soup for the Galactic Soul – Intro

If we are going to start from anywhere, might as well start from the beginning (well the very beginning in our case to make this story make sense). While we were correct in many things about the beginning of the universe (nothing, explosion, something) , there were many things that we were just a tad off about. We supposed that from this chaos we came to be but in all reality the chaos wasn’t that chaotic at all. I don’t think we should call it chaos really, I suppose we could call it a very deterministic game of craps. The world we live in was already predetermined even before the big bang (along with the all of the other worlds that exist) because we gave the universe an infinite amount of time and space to play its game of craps which from every known statistics textbook that eventually some event would happen even if there was a very, very low percent chance of it happening (given the odds of it happening aren’t equal to 0 which they never really are). But from those very predetermined rolls of the dice gave us our own paradise (or hell which ever you choose at the time). But that is less important from the second thing we got wrong.

Remember how I said that chaos wasn’t very chaotic, well I should expand on that. Actually the number of times that sentient intelligence started from where we are now in time space to the beginning of the big bang is around an infinite amount of times (give or take 2 for error). Unfortunately, the recorded data from these dimensions are all but slim. Fortunately, we suppose or our favorite theory around the office is that somewhere deep, deep in the depths of space was that an intergalactic mail man either through misfortune, careless or perhaps he was a little tipsy mailed a full hull to the wrong galactic address. We suppose this from the sloppy handwriting (or what we assume to be handwriting because we don’t really know if they have hands or not) on the hull of cards and letters. Now you are probably going to say:

“Hey, narrator man. Isn’t the probability of something like that happening basically 0? And how would you even go about decoding messages like that from a different universe, not like they are in in discernible characters right?”

Firstly, I would say while the probability of this happening in the first place is not quite 0 which in the history of spacetime is proven to be actually quite possible. Secondly, don’t call me narrator man, give me some respect I have a doctorate in astronomy I’ll let you know. Thirdly, no why would some creature from some different galaxy write in a modern day language that is just stupid. However, the language written in was not too far off from a modern day language. Luckily the writers of these letters weren’t the most stellar of writers and managed to use words in the same frequency as someone whose read at least 3 books in their life would. So through the magic of some machine learning algorithms and neural networks (lots of code or lots of programming to the uninformed) we managed to decode/parse some text into readable material while other texts were not treated so kindly and look like what would happen if you threw Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol into the garbage disposal. While we are mostly skeptical about those findings, a few of us suppose or guess it could be possible that all of those letters were from children to there equivalent of Santa Claus (but that is very, very unofficial as of the moment).

But from these discoveries we decided to compile some of the more readable and parse-able texts into a collection so the public would enjoy. So hopefully you do and I’ll see you at the end for the recap and conclusion!


Pocketful of Posies

To play and have a wonderful day.

Childhood came and went away.

Days of hurt, days of wonderful play.


Like we all stand on a merry go round,

going round and round,

Still searching for what we already found.

No secret paradise away from our searching pair of eyes.


Through our rose tinted glasses,

we looked and searched through the masses.

Forward we looked, backwards we looked.

But what happened upon us:



Not yesterday, not tomorrow.

Not looking for a past or future to borrow.

Yet in this there is no sorrow.


Your past self self believes in you,

your future self awaits you.