For years, sci-fi has asked, what if aliens were wetter than us. Project Hail Mary posits a new, daring question. What if we are the wet aliens

during the smoke sesh our brooding silent friend said "forgive me master" before reducing the entire bowl to ashes in one hit and he didnt even cough

Nervously, I pull from the tarot deck. It's the Nine of Clocks. My fate is revealed to me: It's my bedtime, and I gotta go to sleeps

[gets a new mutual] i look forward to working with you

used to think it terribly silly (and kinda funny) when fantasy or sci-fi stories would have people refer to major recent historical events as The Flood or The Incident or The Revolution, and im sure historians fucking hate that because it's not helpful or descriptive, but we sure do be calling it The Pandemic