Dweedles To Mission Control : No. 10

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Science Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another instalment of the exchange of messages between a disaffected galactic explorer and an increasingly exasperated staff at home-planet mission control.

Submitted: July 05, 2017

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Submitted: July 05, 2017




Dear Dweedles

We are upset by your latest missive, the general view here being that you may have been exposed to too much oxygen. Our boffins have studied the results of other trips like yours and are convinced that this kind of thing can cause flights of fancy.

Regarding your involvement with the human female Vulpina, please note that the name does indeed have an associative meaning. Can this really have escaped you? Look up ‘vulpine’ in your dictionary. What do you see? Relating to or characteristic of the fox. Crafty, cunning, right? Be careful. Further, does it not occur to you that the lady’s former lifestyle has certain connotations? Nocturnal indeed! We could be more explicit. Incidentally, you describe her as of Mediterranean extraction. Do you mean that she is an offspring of a family from the shoreline concerned, or some kind of mermaid you dredged from the briny? We know you are given to meandering, but please try to be specific. Incidentally, when speaking of Vulpina’s musical ability and her retort to a question you asked her, you probably confused the words virtuoso and virtuous. No charge for these language lessons.

Dweedikins, you are infatuated. Do not weaken further. You must have noticed from your experiences elsewhere that this disease is common wherever there are two genders. Get a grip on yourself. Do your duty and try to avoid being more of a chump than nature made you – it did well enough. By the way, there is a limit to the morphing you can achieve. The object of your affection is sure to have, let us say, certain expectations. If you were to be so foolish as to prolong your liaison with her, she would probably anticipate delights which you could not offer. The ‘little light morphing’ you mention is a silly idea, even by your standards. You must learn to live with the fact that there is a limit to the extent to which you can adjust your anatomy. Watch out when the crockery starts flying.

Now, don’t underestimate Dwolf. Though somewhat long in the tooth, Big D is a veritable bloodhound, capable of finding you in any corner of the Cosmos. We have cautioned you before about getting above your station. Just remember your role as a tool of The Plan. You appear to have assessed yourself as something more than that. You are not.

Here is another point you might find awkward. Your assignment requires that you supply us with solutions, but you seem to be disposed to raise questions rather than give answers. Most of what your communications purport to reveal was clear to us from the appendices you sent before your first message. Dweedie, we had hoped to avoid getting into this situation, but we have no choice. You are to stay in situ and take no action until Dwolf gets there to relieve you. It has been decided that despite your recalcitrance, you are to be accorded a full public reception on your return here, and that suitable employment will be found for you in the civil service. You are to be an archivist, grade two, with no impediment to your reaching the top level (five), should your efforts so merit.

You might wish to note that the heat here is now nearly intolerable – a position which could have been avoided had you worked more swiftly. However, we shall do all within our power to cope.

Regards from your perspiring support team at Mission Control.

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