"The Ass. End. of Space" - September 5, 2024
Two intragalactic corporate lawyers are tasked with the impossible: provide a defense against a crime that hasn't been committed. And that crime is the result of unique creative thought...
Every Thursday, Silver Gecko Publishing highlights one of my stories, either a work of short fiction, a novel, or an audiobook. This week’s selection is the short story “The Ass. End. of Space.”
This is a more recent story, one in which I play around with some big ideas getting to the root of our own senses of humor. It’s both science fiction and speculative fiction, and it builds the overall concept of humor, irony, and silliness into the very fabric of space.
This story is included in my brand new science fiction anthology COSMIC TALES, which is available NOW in the Kindle Store. The anthology includes 15 tales of science fiction and wonder.
Also, be sure to check out the latest episode of the Sample Chapter Podcast, where I talk about my new book.
Check out the excerpt of the story below, and if you like what you read, pick up your own digital copy of COSMIC TALES, also available in paperback.
-Kevin Carr
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Illustration by JuliusH (@JuliusH) from Pixabay
“The Ass. End. of Space” by Kevin Carr
“Don’t laugh.”
Those were the first words out of Packard’s mouth before they stepped out of the elevator. He had been noticeably quiet on the ride from the spaceport. He only spoke to the automated transportation android, telling him they had to go to the main science research building. Other than that, Packard said few words on the entire trip.
“Sir?” Cardigan asked.
“Don’t. Laugh.” Packard’s words were blunt and flat. And they caught Cardigan by surprise.
Then the doors to the lift opened, and Packard slipped into the hall. Cardigan had to put on a little speed to catch up to him.
“I am a professional, Sir,” Cardigan said. “I swear to you, I’m not going to–”
And then he saw it. The name on the door. And he couldn’t help but snort reflexively. He recovered quickly and managed to gather his composure and stifle any more laughter. But Packard had heard the snort, and that was enough to earn Cardigan a glare from his boss.
Cardigan cringed as they stepped through the office door and past the placard that read: “Harry Buttz, The Ass. End. of Space.”
The receptionist looked up at the two men as they entered, and she smiled brightly.
“Good morning,” the receptionist said.
“Good morning,” Packard replied politely. “We are here to see the director. Messrs Packard and Cardigan from the Legal Office.”
She nodded and discretely pressed a button on her desk, then a moment later, she looked up and said, “Through those doors, please.”
Packard headed towards the door, and Cardigan followed dutifully. Just before he pushed the door open, Packard looked back at him, still obviously miffed about the snort.
“Just let him do the talking,” Packard said. Then he turned and entered the office.
• • •
Cardigan was already not feeling well. The trip here sent them through two levels of travel. Not only did they have to depart their own solar system using the pulse method of distorting space to reach interplanetary distances, but they had to travel up the spiral arm even farther out to the rim of the galaxy using hyperspace jumps.
Cardigan was not a traveler. He was a bureaucrat. He was not one for exploration or long-distance jaunts. He was happy to stay within his own system. He did not even like taking the relatively short hop to the Martian outposts from Earth, let alone longer distances to the outposts on the moons of Jupiter and Saturn.
Law – even interplanetary law – was mostly a desk job he could do from his home in the Colorado Rockies. But when Packard told him he had a special assignment for him, Cardigan could hardly say no.
He never expected he would literally travel to the Ass. End. of Space for this.
As soon as they entered the room, Cardigan had to stifle another laugh. He was more successful with this one, catching himself before he burst out. If Packard noticed anything, he did not indicate so.
Unfortunately, Cardigan was pretty confident that Packard had, indeed, heard him. He just chose not to say anything this time.
Cardigan laughed because of Harry Buttz. The man had stood up from his formidable desk and was whisking around with aplomb, his hand outstretched – and he looked exactly like one would expect a person named Harry Buttz to look: fat, sweaty, bearded, and wearing an ill-fitting suit. All shades of earthy brown.
Cardigan wondered quietly if he was in a cartoon.
“Good morning, Director Buttz,” Packard said, taking the man’s hand and shaking it firmly. “I do apologize for my colleague’s reaction.”
Cardigan felt stung. So Packard had noticed the second laugh.
But Harry didn’t seem fazed by it. He stepped up to Cardigan and vigorously shook his hand, smiling broadly. There was a warmth in the man’s eyes, and a definitive look of forgiveness. In spite of feeling embarrassed at his own unprofessional behavior, Cardigan found himself instantly liking the man.
“No apology needed,” Harry said with a wink and a smile. “I can’t expect you to come all the way out here to the Ass End of Space and not have a chuckle or two. We are used to it by now.”
Cardigan let himself smile at this one. He was relieved that Harry had such a good humor about things.
Harry gestured to the two chairs across his desk. “Have a seat,” he said, and the two men sat down.
Harry then shuffled to his side again, rather inelegantly. He sat down and sighed.
“Let’s get right down to it,” Harry said. “I need to build a defense.”
“Of course,” Packard said, taking out a small notepad and pen. “What charge?”
“Oh, none yet,” Harry replied with a smile. “That’s the whole reason why I’ve called you.”
Packard paused his pen. He was clearly not prepared for that answer. “Sir?” he asked.
“I need you two to figure out what I’m going to be charged with, and then we can build that defense.”
“I see,” Packard lied, confused.
“Is there a problem with that?” Harry asked.
Cardigan noticed Packard’s confusion right away. He assumed Packard had a good reason to make this visit – likely because Harry had paid the hefty retainer fee and possibly did not want to discuss any potential charges or legal defense over communication channels that could be hacked or monitored. But he was obviously not expecting to be asked to build a defense on nothing. Even known criminals were absolutely certain of the charges they would likely face.
“Here’s the thing,” Cardigan started. He looked next to him and saw Packard’s classic glare, but this was a perfect time for him to step in. “Building a defense for something that might not be charged yet could be seen as premeditation.”
“Well, I am premeditating my defense,” Harry said.
“Exactly,” Cardigan replied. “And if you do get charged with something, the fact that you already set up a defense in part proves that you knew it was coming. You plan to defend yourself against a crime, ergo you are committing that crime.”
Harry nodded. “That’s a risk I am willing to take,” he said.
“Pardon me for asking,” said Cardigan, “but why would it be worth the risk. No one in G-Corp is going to focus on your substantial and important yet out-of-the-way work.”
Buttz shook his head. “I disagree,” he said with abject seriousness. “There are many entities within Kryssix that would like to see me, ahem, taken out.”
Cardigan took special notice of the emphasis that Buttz put on the word Kryssix. It was of particular importance since Cardigan himself had just used the more colloquial earth-based term G-Corp.
Unlike the stories in the pulp magazines and on television over the years, Earth was a part of a loose federation of planets that had shared interests in intragalactic trade routes as well as planetary resources. It was less like the United States of America and closer to the European Union. There was no single governing body that watched over the individual planets. Moreover, Earth was not a founding member of this alliance. It had been in place for hundreds of centuries before Earth developed their own methods of space travel.
This Galactic Coalition’s name was essentially an acronym of an alien language that sounded like the jumble of characters: Kryssix. The acronym loosely translating into “The Galactic Coalition of Resource Planets.” There was no direct translation to English – or any other Earth-origin language – so the many people Earthside referred to the coalition as “G-Corp.”
Of course, anyone working directly with G-Corp did not like the name at all. First of all, it wasn’t a corporation of any sort, but rather a coalition. And having been founded by alien species long before human beings even managed to take to the air in balloons, the disregard of the original alien language was seen as offensive.
As friendly and congenial as Harry Buttz was, it was clear by his use of the term just now that he was politely correcting Cardigan… and he decided to take that correction at heart. When in Rome and all.
“Forgive me,” Cardigan said. “Why would anyone in Kryssix want you out of the picture?”
Buttz leaned across the desk and said in a very serious harsh whisper: “Dangerous thoughts, my lad.”
The words hung in the air for a moment, with Buttz maintaining eye contact with Cardigan. Feeling the discomfort in the air and wanting to move the meeting along, Cardigan acquiesced.
“What kinds of dangerous thoughts?” he asked.
Buttz relaxed a bit and settled back into his chair. But he kept his eye contact with Cardigan. “Do you know what we do here in the Ass. End. of Space, son?”
Cardigan chuckled reflexively. Then he noticed that Buttz wasn’t joining in on the laugh. So he coughed and shifted positions in his chair remaining silent.
“That’s exactly why no one takes us seriously,” Buttz said.
Cardigan shrugged. “So, change your name.”
“It wouldn’t matter. Our name is the proof.”
Cardigan looked confused. He glanced to Packard who flashed him a disapproving frown but also looked similarly confused.
Packard finally decided to join into the conversation. “Director Buttz,” he said, leaning forward and catching his eye contact from Cardigan (who sighed a slight breath of relief at this moment). “Proof of what, exactly?”
Buttz smiled. “Cosmic irony,” he said.
Buttz paused for a moment, letting the term sink in. Then a look of disappointment spread across his face when it was clear that neither men understood what he was talking about.
He sighed and shook his head. “That’s the problem with academics today. And lawyers too, if you pardon the complaint. You never study the classics. It’s all law and theory, but the creative side of the human mind is ultimately wasted among the alphabet soup of your degrees.”
Cardigan felt a bit of a sting with this comment. If Packard felt the same, his face did not show it.
“Have you ever heard of ‘Murphy pockets’?” Buttz asked. Both men across the desk shook their heads slightly.
Buttz looked even more disappointed. “What about the ‘Adams field’?”
Again, neither men acknowledged this.
Buttz shook his head. “Not only do you not study the classics to know what cosmic irony is, but you don’t even study the science of space. You work in space, men. How can you not know this?”
“To be fair, sir,” Cardigan said. “I work in Colorado, but I don’t know exactly how the Rocky Mountains formed.”
Packard shot Cardigan a harsh look, but Buttz seemed to welcome the response. “True,” Buttz said. “But at least you know that the Rocky Mountains exist.”
There was silence for a moment, and Buttz let the berating end.
“Okay, some outer-spiral arm space science 101 for you,” Buttz said. “Space isn’t just nothing. There’s a lot of energy and matter moving through it. It’s filled with electromagnetic fields and other influences far beyond human understanding. Several decades ago, scientists took notice of a field in subspace. Its influence isn’t felt in deep space, but near a planet, it has the potential to create instances of cosmic irony in the development of life.”
“Cosmic irony?” Cardigan asked. “In living things.”
“Yes,” Buttz said. “Silliness, if you prefer that term.”
“So what you’re saying is there’s a field running through subspace that causes living things to be…”
Cardigan couldn’t complete the sentence. It was, ironically, too silly.
“Yes,” Buttz said. “And not just in human emotion and ideas. In reality itself.”
“I’m sorry,” Cardigan said. “That just doesn’t make sense.”
“Sure it does,” Buttz said. “Life is full of silliness. The entirety of life on Earth has a massive ironic bent to it. And it continues outside our own solar system.”
“Those are just strange coincidences,” Cardigan said.
“No, it’s not random,” Buttz interrupted. “Moreover, it can be measured.”
“Hogwash,” Packard said, finally speaking up, seeming to reach his limit for the discussion.
Buttz sat up straight and pointed at Packard. “That is exactly the response we usually get,” he said. “Disbelief. And hostility. Or at the very least ridicule.” …