“Your intimidation tactics are lost on me, bird of contempt.  All about you is about words, any word: what suits the circumstance is best and can be altered at any time… but hey, what do I know?  If it weren’t for me, you’d never fly again.  But for now, hear me:  I landed here in a capsule as a toddler, with a bottle of wild Rum, an iPet, various electro-mechanical, optical devices, chemicals to experiment with and learn from and a revivable bird.”

“What type of bird?”


“I mean—“

“—unfortunately, some of the instruments were damaged on landing and parts of the instructions to help create others like me were irrecoverable.  I’d no idea how to construct the female version of my species.”

“You did rather rather well.”

“I duplicated, triplicated and reciprocated until this planet was populated as you see it now.  I concocted a formula of my own design which, on the face of it, works perfectly or at least in a truly ingenious way.”

“Except for the Rum River, let us say I understand now,” Labaguette musters, trying hard not to roll his eyes and spit in bored disbelief, “and the revivable survival bird couldn’t survive its revival.”

“Smashing!  You got it, Labaguette.  The Rum River’s story is as simple as can be: as I grew strong on wild Rum, I thought I’d better get the self-regenerating principle of its biological formula to work on these ground but as I did so, I accidentally broke the Rum container and the Rum escaped. That’s all there is to it.”

“Wild Rum, huh?   Where did you say you come from exactly?”

To be continued…


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