WiZ
Active Member
“See that?”
“What is it?”
“That’s gonna be our new home!”
“Wow! It’s so beautiful! So big and nice.
“And clean, it’s clean too. Nothing like home.”
“Do you, do you think they’re waiting for us?”
“We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
The United Earth Federation had just opened its borders to the war torn planet of Khatar. The UEF, one of the most tolerable empires in the Milky Way, decided some time ago to take it upon itself and let the Khatari refugees onto its soil, free of charge. This decision, of course, was not accepted unanimously.
“For what kind of humanitarians would we be if we do not provide what we can spare to the needy?” said Governor Candice Holloway, the elected leader of the UEF.
“But what are we to do if they cannot assimilate?” asked Eric Stonewall, leader of the opposition. The debates were already a quarter of the way in and both candidates had agreed to the most important issue at hand, the Khatar crisis.
“Of course they will assimilate, our tolerance will undeniably show them the way. Mr. Stonewall, I’m beginning to think there’s something about the Khatari you don’t like.”
“It’s their hair, isn’t it?” said someone among the audience.
“Yeah, they don’t like the hair! The racist buffoons don’t like those long, black bands of Khatari hair.” the auditorium started to roar with anger. Eric tried to hush the public.
“No, it’s not their hai-”
“Then it must be the skin!”
“What? Mr. Stonewall, do you really think these Khatari are something less than you because of the rugged nature of their skin?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what is it?”
Citizens of Earth crowded around the platforms, excited to see the first ships descending. Great metal hulls, lined with windows, made a big crashing sound as they landed on the soft soil of planet Earth. Moments later, a cloud of steam took to the air as the heavy door to the first ship finally opened. And there they were, the people of Khatar. They were biologically indistinguishable from humans. Same posture, same shape and size. They even looked similar, save for their thick rocky skin and root-like hair which tumbled down to their shoulders.
At first, it seemed as though the Khatari mothers and children were packed tightly onto the ship. The children where the first to reach the ground, one by one, to the sound of applause from the crowd before them. As if on cue, from behind the women rushed a wave of young, muscular Khatari men. The men shoved through the children until they were surrounded by the citizens of earth. Was this some sort of mistake? Surely the phrase “women and children first” is not said in vain, at least not on Earth.
Tazir Fasad gazed out at the crowd; they had stopped applauding. Tazir was one of the younger refugees, around 20 years old. He left his family behind to travel across space and claim refuge on Earth, and just in time! One more year and he would have been conscripted to fight in the fifty second interplanetary war against the Globulites. But that didn’t matter now, Tazir was in the custody of the most humanitarian nation in the galaxy, who would never tolerate conscription of its own people.
During his first day on Earth, Tazir had the opportunity to visit a local clothing store. It was marvelous, better than any of the linen rags sold on Khatar. Not only was there a huge amount of clothes, it was all unprotected. Tazir saw a puffy navy blue coat hanging on a rack all alone. There was nobody, not a single person around him.
“What kind of store does not hire men to protect their products? These people clearly do not value their belongings. I should take this! That oughta teach them a lesson.”
And so, Tazir grabbed the coat and walked out of the store, unfazed. He threw the coat on and continued walking down the street.
A few hours later in the day, it was getting dark, and Tazir was getting thirsty. As he walked down the empty street, he caught the sight of an underground tavern. It looked very shady, but Tazir decided to give it a shot.
Inside, there were rows of half-circle tables with people in nice clothing. Some tables had very few people, others had many more. Confused, Tazir decided to sit at one of the less populated tables.
“You playing?” said the man at the end of the table. Tazir looked at him with wide eyes.
“Would you like to play?” the man repeated.
“Sure.” The man gave Tazir two cards, one face down and the other face up. Tazir, who had never played poker before, didn’t know what to do.
“Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.”
All of the others at the table handed the man a crumpled up piece of paper. When it was his turn, Tazir took a few notes out of his pocket and slapped them into the man’s hand. To the dealers surprise, money was not a problem for Tazir. His parents were quite middle class and gave him a good economic advantage over the other Khatari immigrants. The dealer in the center of the table started to shuffle his deck of cards and hand them out to others one by one. Meanwhile, a well dressed man with a plater was walking around and handing out drinks to some of the others. The man walked close to Tazir and caught his glance.
“Slave,” said Tazir as he threw a bill at the man, “give me a drink.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I will not serve anyone who talks to me like that.” The man turned to leave but Tazir had grabbed his shoulder before he could walk away.
“Do not try me, slave. On my world, I would have you killed for disobedience!” Tazir turned the man back around and punched him in the jaw, wine glasses crashing as he fell to the floor.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?” A crowd was beginning to form around Tazir as he violently beat the man.
“Stop, you’re hurting him!”
“That‘s it, I’m calling the police.”
Tazir didn’t care. He could have killed the disobedient prick, but a beautiful lady at another table caught his attention.
“Who is that? I must have her.” Tazir said under his breath, releasing the waiter and rushing over to grab the girl by the hand.
“You are so beautiful, such a majestic creature. I will have you.”
“Nuh-uh-uh, 60 bucks an hour, buddy.”
“Fine.” Tazir didn’t want to get into anymore trouble. He gave the girl her money and they proceeded to her private room.
When Tazir Fasad was arrested, which he inevitably was, he was put into a holding cell in a police station. The investigator arrived a short while later to interrogate Tazir.
“When are you going to let me out?”
“Oho, Mr. Fasad! This is not a question of when we are going to let you out, but if we are going to let you out.” Tazir went silent. “You have been found guilty of theft, assault and illicit sex. These are pretty heavy charges, you know. Any citizen of Earth would be serving a lot of jail time for this. But, since you’re a refugee seeking asylum, you won't have the same punishment.”
“So, will you let me out?”
“Oh, of course we will! Right after we cut off your hands and give you 80 lashings.”
“What?”
Tazir couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
“No, there must be some kind of mistake!”
“Nope, no mistake. You see, as the most tolerant empire in the galaxy, the UEF is famous for its use of the multicultural criminal code. As an immigrant, you will be sentenced according to your home world's legal system. Amputation of the hands for theft, sixty lashes for assault and twenty for illicit sex.”
“But that’s not fair! Please, I will do anything!”
“Ok, there is one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Three days ago, a UEF Starship was hijacked by Khatari extremists. We believe they may be planning some kind of attack. So, we need to know how the Khatari think in order to counter their attack. Do you think you know enough about the psychology of your people?”
Tazir moaned with desperation, for he knew the psychology of his people all too well.
“What is it?”
“That’s gonna be our new home!”
“Wow! It’s so beautiful! So big and nice.
“And clean, it’s clean too. Nothing like home.”
“Do you, do you think they’re waiting for us?”
“We’ll find out soon, won’t we?”
The United Earth Federation had just opened its borders to the war torn planet of Khatar. The UEF, one of the most tolerable empires in the Milky Way, decided some time ago to take it upon itself and let the Khatari refugees onto its soil, free of charge. This decision, of course, was not accepted unanimously.
“For what kind of humanitarians would we be if we do not provide what we can spare to the needy?” said Governor Candice Holloway, the elected leader of the UEF.
“But what are we to do if they cannot assimilate?” asked Eric Stonewall, leader of the opposition. The debates were already a quarter of the way in and both candidates had agreed to the most important issue at hand, the Khatar crisis.
“Of course they will assimilate, our tolerance will undeniably show them the way. Mr. Stonewall, I’m beginning to think there’s something about the Khatari you don’t like.”
“It’s their hair, isn’t it?” said someone among the audience.
“Yeah, they don’t like the hair! The racist buffoons don’t like those long, black bands of Khatari hair.” the auditorium started to roar with anger. Eric tried to hush the public.
“No, it’s not their hai-”
“Then it must be the skin!”
“What? Mr. Stonewall, do you really think these Khatari are something less than you because of the rugged nature of their skin?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what is it?”
Citizens of Earth crowded around the platforms, excited to see the first ships descending. Great metal hulls, lined with windows, made a big crashing sound as they landed on the soft soil of planet Earth. Moments later, a cloud of steam took to the air as the heavy door to the first ship finally opened. And there they were, the people of Khatar. They were biologically indistinguishable from humans. Same posture, same shape and size. They even looked similar, save for their thick rocky skin and root-like hair which tumbled down to their shoulders.
At first, it seemed as though the Khatari mothers and children were packed tightly onto the ship. The children where the first to reach the ground, one by one, to the sound of applause from the crowd before them. As if on cue, from behind the women rushed a wave of young, muscular Khatari men. The men shoved through the children until they were surrounded by the citizens of earth. Was this some sort of mistake? Surely the phrase “women and children first” is not said in vain, at least not on Earth.
Tazir Fasad gazed out at the crowd; they had stopped applauding. Tazir was one of the younger refugees, around 20 years old. He left his family behind to travel across space and claim refuge on Earth, and just in time! One more year and he would have been conscripted to fight in the fifty second interplanetary war against the Globulites. But that didn’t matter now, Tazir was in the custody of the most humanitarian nation in the galaxy, who would never tolerate conscription of its own people.
During his first day on Earth, Tazir had the opportunity to visit a local clothing store. It was marvelous, better than any of the linen rags sold on Khatar. Not only was there a huge amount of clothes, it was all unprotected. Tazir saw a puffy navy blue coat hanging on a rack all alone. There was nobody, not a single person around him.
“What kind of store does not hire men to protect their products? These people clearly do not value their belongings. I should take this! That oughta teach them a lesson.”
And so, Tazir grabbed the coat and walked out of the store, unfazed. He threw the coat on and continued walking down the street.
A few hours later in the day, it was getting dark, and Tazir was getting thirsty. As he walked down the empty street, he caught the sight of an underground tavern. It looked very shady, but Tazir decided to give it a shot.
Inside, there were rows of half-circle tables with people in nice clothing. Some tables had very few people, others had many more. Confused, Tazir decided to sit at one of the less populated tables.
“You playing?” said the man at the end of the table. Tazir looked at him with wide eyes.
“Would you like to play?” the man repeated.
“Sure.” The man gave Tazir two cards, one face down and the other face up. Tazir, who had never played poker before, didn’t know what to do.
“Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.”
All of the others at the table handed the man a crumpled up piece of paper. When it was his turn, Tazir took a few notes out of his pocket and slapped them into the man’s hand. To the dealers surprise, money was not a problem for Tazir. His parents were quite middle class and gave him a good economic advantage over the other Khatari immigrants. The dealer in the center of the table started to shuffle his deck of cards and hand them out to others one by one. Meanwhile, a well dressed man with a plater was walking around and handing out drinks to some of the others. The man walked close to Tazir and caught his glance.
“Slave,” said Tazir as he threw a bill at the man, “give me a drink.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I will not serve anyone who talks to me like that.” The man turned to leave but Tazir had grabbed his shoulder before he could walk away.
“Do not try me, slave. On my world, I would have you killed for disobedience!” Tazir turned the man back around and punched him in the jaw, wine glasses crashing as he fell to the floor.
“Oh my god, what are you doing?” A crowd was beginning to form around Tazir as he violently beat the man.
“Stop, you’re hurting him!”
“That‘s it, I’m calling the police.”
Tazir didn’t care. He could have killed the disobedient prick, but a beautiful lady at another table caught his attention.
“Who is that? I must have her.” Tazir said under his breath, releasing the waiter and rushing over to grab the girl by the hand.
“You are so beautiful, such a majestic creature. I will have you.”
“Nuh-uh-uh, 60 bucks an hour, buddy.”
“Fine.” Tazir didn’t want to get into anymore trouble. He gave the girl her money and they proceeded to her private room.
When Tazir Fasad was arrested, which he inevitably was, he was put into a holding cell in a police station. The investigator arrived a short while later to interrogate Tazir.
“When are you going to let me out?”
“Oho, Mr. Fasad! This is not a question of when we are going to let you out, but if we are going to let you out.” Tazir went silent. “You have been found guilty of theft, assault and illicit sex. These are pretty heavy charges, you know. Any citizen of Earth would be serving a lot of jail time for this. But, since you’re a refugee seeking asylum, you won't have the same punishment.”
“So, will you let me out?”
“Oh, of course we will! Right after we cut off your hands and give you 80 lashings.”
“What?”
Tazir couldn’t believe what he had just heard.
“No, there must be some kind of mistake!”
“Nope, no mistake. You see, as the most tolerant empire in the galaxy, the UEF is famous for its use of the multicultural criminal code. As an immigrant, you will be sentenced according to your home world's legal system. Amputation of the hands for theft, sixty lashes for assault and twenty for illicit sex.”
“But that’s not fair! Please, I will do anything!”
“Ok, there is one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Three days ago, a UEF Starship was hijacked by Khatari extremists. We believe they may be planning some kind of attack. So, we need to know how the Khatari think in order to counter their attack. Do you think you know enough about the psychology of your people?”
Tazir moaned with desperation, for he knew the psychology of his people all too well.
