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Dripping Sunshine

The books say eons ago, the sun wasn’t sentient. We’re long past that. At this point, you could compare it to an octogenarian. It drools, sleeps for weeks at a time, and tends to mumble.

Not that I can really keep up with what it’s “talking” about. If you ask me, I think those planetary-linguists are a bunch of crap. At one point, they said the Sun (capitalized, yes) was missing its mother. They didn’t mention which star was the mother, which sounds like an episode of reverse-stellar-Maury Povich. (Our world has a bad problem with assumed names; you should see how many scrawny gits are named Attila.)

Sleeping is really more like hibernating, and it drools, bad. It’s not saliva; it’s basically radioactive acid rain. You see where I’m going with this.

Anyhow, when it first became ultra-aware, it wanted to travel. So the government freaking tether-hooked it to Earth. We could release it. We should. But the government’s still dicking around, trying to acquire a new star.

And before you ask, yes. Mutants.

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