Get Into James Shorts - 39. Our Galaxy is a Dumpster Fire

Before they came, we silly humans thought it would be the coolest thing ever to meet aliens. We forgot what happened in our own history when primitive cultures met more advanced cultures with technology maybe fifty or a hundred years more advanced.

Then came Chris Columbus the Conehead from somewhere in the general direction of the constellation we call the Southern Cross. That wasn't his name or his races name. That was unpronounceable to humans. Good old Chris was an entrepreneur. He offered to sell us ten super nifty high capacity fusion reactors and a few other high tech gadgets for a few tons of precious metals.

This started a bidding war among the nations of earth and Chris made out like the bandit that he really was. That is until the Butt-heads showed up. It turned out that Chris the Cone-Head had stolen the fusion reactors and other gadgets from an Interstellar Alliance Supply Depot and the Butt-Heads were not amused, nor were they happy that he had gifted them to savages. The Butt-Heads were a strange outfit that were supposed to protect primitive species from exploitation, cultural or technological contamination called the Native Protection Bureau (NPB, yes there are bureaucracies in the future). They arrested Chris, impounded his ship and demanded we return the reactors and assorted junk. We, the United States, Canada and Mexico, argued that we had just spent a kings ransom on our reactor and junk and needed a refund. The Butt-Heads launched a salvo of 100 kilogram kinetic energy darts into our heartland to show their displeasure. That really sucked for Kansas and Nebraska.

The Chinese agreed to return one of their reactors which the Butt-Heads promptly retrieved took to their ship where it exploded with a force of ten megatons taking out the Butt-Head cruiser and Chris the Cone-headed con artist.

Three months later another Butt-Head ship arrived. We blamed Chris the Conehead for the whole debacle and asked them nicely to go away. The Butt-Heads still wanted the reactors but by this time we had reverse engineered them, learned some really nifty new tricks and were making our own. We returned them, and the Butt-Heads left.

While they were in orbit, a gifted Czech hacker downloaded their database. Apparently the Butt-Heads never heard of data security, hackers or dealt with primitives that had. Yeah, humanity!. It took a bank of quantum computers about five years to translate it all and analysts are still going over it all these years later. That is how we found out what a huge dumpster fire our galaxy really is.

Historically, racism was a problem for humanity but often it was mostly just cultural differences, and we got over it. Wrap your mind around the idea of species-ism. Every advanced race thinks they are the cats own balls and are absolutely sure they are the superior species, intellect, moral authority and have God on speed dial.

The galaxy is divided into four large coalitions: the Butt-Head Alliance, the Raving Religious Fuk-wads, the Assembly of Genocidal Lunatics and the Coalition of Cut-throats and Pirates. To our disgust, it turns out the Butt-Heads are the pick of the litter. There are some independent powers but to stay that way they have to lean in the direction of one of the big dogs. The Big Dogs of the galaxy are always at war, hot or cold, with each other. The Butt-Head Alliance was nice enough to protect the primitive species in their space from the other powers who would arrive and take all the slaves (or meat) and goods they wanted. Fortunes of the great powers in the galaxy fluctuated, but they were all too large to fall in a rush. They existed at a sort of stalemate/equilibrium point while working desperately hard to gain the upper hand. Lots of things we had hoped to put behind us as a race, were back, and we found humanity on the wrong end of it. Slavery, genocidal wars, piracy: all those old favorites are new again.

To the Galactics, humans are dangerous primitives with fusion sharpened spears and arrows. Well, good for us. The longer they avoid us, the tougher the nut we'll be when they do come back.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not a species-ist. I just hate the aliens who would wipe us out, perhaps eat us and strip mine the earth. Unfortunately, that's most of them.

I bet you though humans were the only assholes in the galaxy. Hell, in comparison, we're mere babes in the woods dealing with the East India Company. "Opium? Sounds really nifty. How much?"