Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2132662-TR-235-WIP
Rated: 13+ · Fiction · Sci-fi · #2132662
This is my new (insanely) long story

1. Humans!
2. Definats


First off, terrasticas are not human; none of their genes are the same, nor is their DNA. They may look human, but however their body functions differently. Terrasticas can convert anything into energy and disgorge what is not needed; so there are no restrooms here.
Terrasticas are the most populated species in the Terrestical Radius, an imaginary radius of where terrasticas can live and where definats can live safely. Terrasticas normally spend their lives living in a large planet far from Earth. There are billions of other terrasticas, living within layers of galactic junk.
And to the [average] humans out there, TR-235 means Terrestrical Radius-235. It simply means that the terrestrial planet we are on is 235 million fridons away from MEP2. And that star’s name has a different story.
TR-235 is a place with an extreme amount of diversity. There are a few aliens here, though, transported illegally. It is also pretty dangerous almost everywhere; traffic fights, normal crime, long, old feuds. The skies are full of at least one insanely tall structure, used for a new project that has been delayed for years.
Meanwhile, Spatizimer is an average terrastica, living in an office-apartment hybrid complex.
That was before.
Currently, Spatizimer can’t concentrate.
And there’s a gang of Definats efridons from his door.

Chapter 1: Humans!

And he hears rain pouring outside, and the strange green droplets banging on the window. More intense than those uncivilized people banging. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning lands on East 4th St., an efridon away from his hybrid building. The heat and the shock crashes him through the wall, and Spatizimer land on a few concrete slivers. And his head skids to another wall.
“Wonderful afternoon, sir,” his boss says.
“It isn’t very good,” Spatizimer moans. “My head feels like crap and my whole body too. And my shoes are slightly charred.”
He bends down to examine his foot. “Your middle and second toe is burned. I’d say 1st de-gree though.”
He squints, light-headed. He tries to standing up, and sees his toes; a small part pitch-black. He leans against a smooth piece of unbroken wall, and examine his entire foot. Parts of the lower area of the shoe were covered in ashes, and the nylon was severely charred.
“Dang. That’s really bad.”
The boss walked away to his office. “Heal yourself, dude. Lie down and apply cold water on it.”
Spatizimer squinted again. “I see definats outside. Dozens of them.”
The boss looked at him for a while and turned at the main door way. Spatizimer crawled to the elevator and went to his room. He quickly applied some creams to soothe his burn, and then peeked out, trying not to directly look at the definats.
Spatizimer hated them as much as he hated humans.
They were extremely disgusting; slimy bodies, picking up cars along the way; like a vacuum sucking up dust. The slimy green eyes glanced at Spatizimer for a bit, and then looked back.
They were mostly gooey slime.
Spatizimer hid under his bed. He then found old books lying around under the frame, and he covered up the space from the floor to his bed with them. He wished he could use his most prized possession to fight them.
However, they were too far away, hidden in a complex tunnel, with locks and traps. He crawls and pushes the books out of the way.
His burnt foot is feeling better now. He quickly exits the room, being careful not to make vibrations of any sort. He successfully exits his apartment and pats the floor. He soon finds a suspicious area in the floor, and picks the carpet up. He shuts it and climbs down the ladder.
And he smells something very smelly. Smellier than burnt esorik. (burnt black pepper) He follows the scent and sees a figure a foot shorter than him, wearing a bunch of useless items on his body. Spatizimer also hears beeping.
The human looked around, traumatized. “Y-y-yes?”
“That object is mine. And it will never work because terrastica fingerprints are different from hoo-man fingerprints. Nice try, hoo-man,” Spatizimer said.
The human glared at him. “Are you a terrastica? Aaand... I have a question... Why do you call "humans" as "hoo-”
“Yes. Of course. Look at my veins. And it's this-”
The human trembled and ran away. The sensors quickly rotated towards him and lime-green lasers showed up.
“WHAA! What is this wizardly stuff here?” the human exclaimed.
“First,” Spatizimer said. “Show me who you are, why you are here, and everything about you. I want it to the tiniest details.”
The human glared at him, looking at him like he was crazy. “Dude, you can’t go around asking complete strangers their personal information! That’s unpleasant to hear, it makes them nervous, you’ll get in serious trouble and—” He was then cut off when Spatizimer threatened to choke him.
“I said tell me.”
The earthling smirked at him. “Why should I? I am a scientist researching this planet; re-sources—” He was cut off again when Spatizimer threatened to both choke and push him in the lasers. Spatizimer pointed at the cage holding an expensive-looking weapon. “That thing costs many fortunes.”
“Okay, fine,” the human grumbled. “I will. Now get me out of here.”
“I’ll listen, okay? Start and you will exit,” Spatizimer grumbled back.
“Uh…” Spatizimer said. “Andrew, why are you here? You never answered that.”
Andrew the human twitched his hand for a bit and sighed. “I am a scientist not from NASA. That died, unfortunately. Instead I work for the ISEA, or the International Space Exploration Agency. It has members from about 7/8 of the countries on Earth, in 2090 AD. It has at least one person there; either in separate sub-headquarters or the main headquarters in Chicago, the XTower at 906 N Michigan.”
“Where’s that?” Spatizimer questioned.
“A new tower, 1 ½ kilometers tall, built on the ‘Magnificent Mile’, a place for buying stuff, attractions, and it is a kilometer or so from the lake! Well, it’s in Chicago, which is in the Sub-Republic of Reasten, United States of America. Which is in Earth. Good old Earth. Anyways, I came here from Florida, wonderful beaches of Lookout Point Launchpad 34. Spectacular views. As I exited Earth—“
“Why are you here, stupid hoo-man? I don’t want junky exploration stuff; I want information of WHY YOU ARE HERE.”
“Sorry, got off track there, heh. I am here to conduct research about this planet. This planet seems very Earth-like, with many similarities to the over-crowed Earth. So far I am 10% done; I came here a week ago.”
Spatizimer looked at him. “So why did you examine the weapon?”
“I needed information.”
“Ah, okay,” Spatizimer said. “Don’t go outside, okay, Andrew?”
Andrew thanked him and exited the secret passageway. He walked towards the door until he saw a trail of blood and green goo on the streets. He walked away quickly, trying to forget the disgusting path of gooey blood.
“Yeh, you’re right. Where can I stay for the night?” Andrew asked, shuddering a bit.
“Eh…” Spatizimer looked up at the ceiling for a while. “You can sleep on the rug at my room. It’ll give you some cramps but it’s better than camping in the streets of where you will either be caught by the referts or the definats.
Andrew’s eyes widened. “Definats?”
Spatizimer looked down at the carpet, and said, “Definats are slimy and gooey. They pick up everything they land on, and they squish tons of terrasticas every year.”
“So the bloody goo I saw there were definat waste and terrastica remains?” Andrew asked.
Spatizimer flicked a dangling bundle of hair from his eyes and answered back. “Yes. It’s very scary at first; I screamed and had nightmares as a kid. But you’ll grow out of it like most stuff. Terrasticas are a bit faster at that, but it’s okay.”
Andrew then followed Spatizimer and climbed the stairs.

Chapter 2: Definats

Andrew awoke to a smell of strangeness and tastiness. “Pancakes?” he asked.
Spatizimer went to his bedroom for a bit. “Pancakes? No. They are thebs; a large circle of sweet, soft bread. What are pancakes anyways?”
Andrew’s eyes widened for a second, astonished by Spatizimer’s small knowledge of pan-cakes. “Uh… A thin cake cooked in a frying pan with oil.”
Spatizimer lifted one eyebrow and answered back. “Huh. Familiar.”
He soon served them to Andrew with a very thick [synthesized] syrup, synthesized fruit, and synthesized coffee.
“Definats ruin everything. They destroyed coffee plants, and now we must drink coffee made of chemicals. They destroyed greenhouses, and now we must eat chemical-injected apples. Even this… flour is synthesized.”
“Cool! I love synthesized food; they show how great—“
Spatizimer shushed him, and asked Andrew a quick question. “Do you want to hear a definat story?”
Andrew’s eyes twitched. “I guess.”
Spatizimer fiddled with his hands, and sighed. “Alright.”
“Definats, like I said before, ruin everything. They come from Sector CB-35, millions of derfridons away from us, TR-00. I don’t know how the hell they got here. Probably they went on stray space junk stupid hoo-mans left. Anyways, they came here. They crushed TR-445 and TR-676. Pretty good tourism areas they blew up. Anyways, 106 years ago, year 2017, September 22, definats made its’ first major destruction to us. It killed 90,000,000 terrasticas and injured 160,000,000. It was known as the worst definat incident in the TR exosector. Anyways, 62 years after that, a week later, another definat incident came, even more destructive. TR-235 had about 10 billion definats living, and the 2,000 definats killed a third and injured all but 3,000. Serious damage. Half the planet had nothing at all; electrotics, water; nothing. That was the Definat Inci-dent of 2079.”
“Eek,” Andrew replied. “This sure is a dangerous place.”
“Eh, not anymore. A megaproject called Antidef2 is helping us defend definats. I think we’ll be safe for another 500 years, when it has to be reconstructed. Basically, Antidef2 is a bunch of low-orbit satellites orbiting the planet, and when they sense a definat coming, it sends a signal to the DefMissile 3.4, a highly sophisticated missile system that launches dozens of missiles to shoot down definats. It shoots out a few times every year. Maybe 30 or so.”
“Interesting. I better find a good library or something to get those notes. They seem like a good topic for the world, back at my home planet.”
“Certainly. Well, once the definats are clear, I’ll show you around the city I’m in.”
Andrew’s eyes peeked at the window. “I think they’re clear.”
“They could be across the street. They’re always scaring citizens. Those goddamn creatures,” Spatizimer muttered.
© Copyright 2017 OoferMidget (spatizimer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2132662-TR-235-WIP