Ep 4 - After You Catch Them All

I hope you are having a wonderful week. This is our fourth story of season one. If you believe in good stories and in supporting the author of today's story and all of the stories this season, join Biome on Patreon or on the Biome Coffee website. You can find links in the

show notes. We believe in paying artists for their amazing work and our goal is to pay the

writers in season two even better than we could for this first season. You can also support Biome just by subscribing to this podcast and sharing it with your friends. Our story today is called after you catch them all by Grigori Lugin. Grigori is an award-winning filmmaker and an internationally published author of fiction and nonfiction. He's also a vagabond with three passports and far too much free time. His writing has appeared in Fano, the colored lens and multiple anthologies. He enjoys

“pastries, museums, and hiking from Mexico to Canada. His secret layer is in Montreal. And now,”

let's live this story together. Planetary Administrator Preston Worthington III was overcome with excitement as he watched the shuttle land. At last, at long last, he forced himself to wait a few seconds as the door unfolded and the visitor from Earth took a hesitant step forward, unused to the bright light of the alien sun, and the slightly heavier gravity of this planet. Patience was precious and timing was everything.

Welcome to Teagodin B Chief Inspector. You got here just in time for the big show. He snapped his fingers at the droid but ordering him to pick up the esteemed visitors'

luggage. Ah, Paristan. It's great to finally meet you in person. The Earthman smiled as his eyes

and legs adjusted to the terraformed planet. Thanks for that delicious gift basket by the way. I must say, the whole bureau is quite excited about your new initiative. And please, Comey Jim. Indeed sir, Jim. Come. Let's head over to the party. Everyone's waiting for us. The seek of ought has already found the last specimen. It just needs our final command. The two men leisurely set off towards the imposing administration building. Past the customs,

past the hustle of the space sports routine traffic, past the ebb and flow of tourists and mechanics and maintenance spots and asteroid prospectors on shore leave. Often the distance, a large, bright orange container shuttle stood waiting with its loading dock wide open.

“Is that what I think it is? Jimasked as they walked by it?”

Indeed. The distinctive coloration is all part of our branding strategy. The more people see the specimen shuttles, the more publicity our program generates. But by the way, this is our top programmer Jenkins. We're linked and gestured at the disheveled skinny, unshaving young man who rushed up to them. What is it, Jenkins? Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is important. There's something you need to see. Jenkins stammered as he glanced at the visitor.

This can wait until later, can it not? We're linked and said quietly, as he turned away. Sorry, sir. Jim, you know how it is with underlings. The two exchanged a chuckle as they continued on their way. So walk me through this again, Chris. Jim said, making we're linked in winds just a bit. Your program proposal said you capture all the invasive species the colonists who brought from Earth. And then you evacuate them. He pointed at the shuttle.

But where do the savings come from? The stated costs still matter estimates. First, we thought

“that was an input error, but the same numbers kept popping up. What's the catch?”

Ah, but that's the beauty of it. We capture all the invasive species, yes, and we load them into the distinctive looking shuttles. But no one really cares what happens to them afterward. On paper, they're supposed to be shipped all the way back to Earth. But in reality, we show the masses a nice AI-generated video of all the goats and monkeys and parrots landing back home safe and sound while the actual animals get them reprocess the moment the shuttle leaves

out, planet. That's an unorthodox way of doing things. But it does explain the savings and just

the early tanything, or fresh organic fertilizer. You name it. This way, we get to cut transportation

costs by 90%. Those in unofficial stream of revenue. We're thinking to tap to the side of his nose. It's a win-win. Well, not for the animals, obviously. He grinned Earthman Jim. The visitor smelled back. And the local environmental groups. You're sure they won't cause any trouble. But and paid for. We've actually established the two main groups through a shell company years ago, and most of the early to shop is an hour pocket. Right now, we have them scoobling over the

“ethics of eating mushrooms and cutting grass. And what about the operating costs?”

Virtually zero. The secret bots can repair each other's needed, and they're fully automated. There are 10,000 of them. Once they've finished collecting one invasive species, they just move on to the next. And what if someone tried to hack them? They'd be wasting their time. The bots are isolated from every network, and they don't acknowledge voice commands. We had to make that adjustment when they rounded up all the pirates. You see,

allowed paying from Wyrthington's communicator interrupted them. It was a priority video call. Jenkins, I told you this could wait. Don't you see I'm busy. Wyrthington's snarled at the screen. Yes, sir. I'm so incredibly sorry to interrupt you today of all days, but this really can't wait. You see, I think the creep. The programmer said in a rush before the boss muted him. Jenkins, do not bother me again. If you interrupt me one more time today, your fired,

“submit a priority to get if you must, but I don't want to hear from you,”

Wyrthington enunciated as he cut the connection. I really do apologize. I have no idea what's gotten into him today. He said to his guest. Not long afterward, the two reached the administration building. The reinforced doors unfolded, and the security bots on each side gave a quick beep of recognition and acknowledgement. Inside the circular dome structure, a large group of dignitaries and local VIPs had already gathered near an old-fashioned projector screen. Servitive bots circulated with

trays of champagne flutes and imported caviar. They wore boaties and tuxedo jackets and an occasional party hat. Festive-looking banners hung on the walls. A eradication through repatriation said one.

"Monkeys, go home," said another. "Tigarden B, the best place to be," proclaimed a third.

“A bit of team-initiative, as you can see, Wyrthington smiled as he waved at the banners,”

his other hand already holding a champagne flute. Please note the projector screen. We decided to go with the 20th-century technology to cut costs even further. The champagne and snacks come from one of our local business partners, of course. "Remarkable, simply remarkable," Earth-Manjum mumbled through the mouth full of caviar. "I must say, press, your commitment to cost cutting is second and none. I'll make sure to mention it in my report." Wyrthington smiled and nodded,

trying to ignore the uncouth visitors distinct lack of manners. "Just get through today," he thought to himself. "Just get through today, and the contract is yours." "I'm glad to hear you approve," he said out loud. "So, shall we begin?" He snapped his fingers at an underlying holding a tablet. The crowd cheered in excitement. Chief Inspector Jim turned his attention to the gigantic projector screen. On it, he could see the heads-up display of the collector-bot as it received to the tablet's

activation command and started moving towards its unsuspecting prey.

The purple leaves of the native tree analogs obscured the scene at first,

but the bot's thermal sensors left no doubt. There, in a peaceful clearing, surrounded by voluminous clusters of blue mushrooms, sitting beneath the thick lavender vines was a cat. A green-eyed tabby to be precise. The animal was grooming itself in the spot of sunlight completely self-absorbed and unaware of its impending fate. The projector screen split in two. The second video feed showed a surveillance drone's video as the collector-bot slowly,

but surely, levitated towards its target. Chief Inspector Jim knew this was all part of the pre-ranged spectacle, but he still had to admit the show was impressive. The bot was the size of a gorilla, sprouting mechanical arms, tool attachments, and what looked like a pair of tentacles

almost perfectly with the surrounding forest. Only the outline was visible, and briefly visible

at that. The bots' Antigraph field propelled it onward, keeping it perfectly silent, until it was ready to reveal itself. The crowd cheered and whooped in anticipation of the grand finale, where Thinkton's communicator rang again, yet another priority message. What is it this time? He hissed as his secretaries' nervous face appeared on the tiny screen.

“The young woman was visibly uncomfortable. Sir, I just thought you should know it's Jenkins.”

He just submitted an emergency application for personal leave, ran into an escape pod and left the planet. Should we be worried? She stammered nervously. "That goddamn Jenkins, I'm sick and tired of that idiot. Emergency leave on no, sent a direct message pulse after him. Tell him he's fired, and that goes for anybody else who calls me today. Is that clear? He didn't wait for a reply,

as he ended the call and turned towards his esteemed visitor. So terribly sorry about that. "Can't find good help these days, you know?" "No problem at all, press."

Earthman Jim said as he drained his third flute of champagne and started on his second bowl of

“caviar. "These things happen." He turned his attention back toward the screen.”

The collector bought was now within reach of its target. It stopped, hovering in midair, and announced in a surprisingly gentle voice, invasive species detected, fearless catas, initiating capture. The camouflage remained in place, the watery shimmering outline barely visible as the tabby cat looked up in confusion towards the source of the unexplained interruption. "Row?" Was the last thing it said before a glittering silver net flew from the

collector bought's chest, and it snared the animal. Capture, complete, all specimens of fearless catas have been removed from the planet's surface. The bot announced as it secured the net and began moving toward the nearest orange shuttle. The crowd went wild. The thunderous applause, the cheering, the wide smiles, it was all planetary administrator pressed and werething to the

third head ever dreamed of. At last, at long, last success, recognition, power, and then,

after his program's inevitable success, the Galactic Senate. He could already see it in his mind's eye. And that was it. He turned to his new friend, talking rapidly and excitedly. The very last invasive species on our planet. As you can see, our collector bots are virtually undetectable, and the nano-fibonets are absolutely impenetrable. There are also tranquil as adults, tasers, the tentacle attachments. Those came in useful with the chimpanzees. So, would you like

to discuss franchising of what? He stopped. Suddenly, where the crowd had gone, deadly silent. The main doors had opened, and there, past the festive banners, past the servitor bots, late in with champagne and caviar, between the only exit and the drunken crowd. There was a strange shimmering. As if someone, or several, someone stood in full, adaptive camouflage. There was allowed, but surprisingly gentle voice. Invasive, species detected,

homo, sapiens, and initiating capture. Good-goerty tells us this piece is inspired by rebred barriers 1952, a sound of thunder, in which a time traveler accidentally steps on a butterfly and changes the course of history. If you haven't read a sound of thunder, I won't spoil it for you,

“and you should totally go read it. So, as I read it, I thought that, in some ways,”

good-goerty's piece is a mere reflection of a sound of thunder. Rather than trying not to damage anything, the characters in this story are trying to clean up the mess that humans have made by introducing species. It's fascinating to me to see the glimmers of proto-environmentalism in Bradbury's story. It was written again in 1952, and that was a decade before silent spring came out in 1962. So, this concern with the environment, with environmentalism, and with the effects

that humans have had on it really has this very long, very important lineage that goes far, far back into the gold and silver ages of sci-fi. There are other thematic residences here, too, in both stories, humans use cutting-edge technology that they don't fully understand. Moreover, in both greed propels the narrative forward and leads to the ironic and inevitable ending.

called The Answer, in which humans build a supercomputer to test whether there is a god

“and the machine it declares now there is, and makes it impossible to turn itself off.”

This, of course, follows the venerable lineage. We can trace all the way back from Frankenstein

and through to Prometheus of the Greek legends, in which a creator loses control of their creation

“and ultimately becomes a victim to it. So, as you can see, there are some fascinating themes and”

resonances that this piece explores that really go all the way back to classical science fiction from the 50s and 60s and even earlier. So, what did you think of this story? Email me at [email protected]. You can also find the email address in the show notes. I'd love to hear from you.

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Thank you for listening to biome with me, your host and narrator, Alex Zubin. Until next time, farewell, wherever the days take you.