AN ENTIRELY INVENTED MONSTER BIOGRAPHY
In the beginning were leftovers.
Before anyone thought to tidy the universe, someone tipped the leftovers behind a black hole. Forgotten gods. Broken satellites. A bad-tempered big bang. And the skin that forms on very old soup. This became Korrok: a planet that slowly simmers around its sun.
Korrok has two moons, seven seas of primordial broth and precisely one law: anything that climbs out of the pot must do its own washing-up. There are no reports of enforcement.
Born in the wrong pot.
On the night of the third boil-over, a forbidden television aerial fell into the Sea of the Seven Broths. Beneath it lay an egg. Inside waited something that had been expecting a better opportunity for four million years. Lightning struck. A silent film ran backwards. A broken drum machine started. The egg opened. KREBA went on air.
His first sound was a tremendous ‘KRRR–EE–BA!’ The priests called it a prophecy. The technicians called it feedback. His mother said: ‘He’s hungry.’ All three were right.
HOME SIGNAL // KORROK
One planet. Seven broths. No returns.
Korrok smells of thunderstorms, warm metal and something best left unreheated. Its seas remember everything that ever fell into them. At low tide they wash memories ashore. At high tide they take the future away.
- Atmosphere
- Breathable. Opinions vary.
- Gravity
- Stronger after dinner.
- Currency
- Usable spare parts.
- Main export
- Interference & unanswered questions.
Forbidden channel 03:33.
Kreba grew up among scrap cathedrals and steaming craters. He ate retired spaceships, bad news and sometimes the weather forecast. His antennae picked up things nobody had broadcast yet. His eyes stored every image. He had six stomachs for memories. None for instruction manuals.
Then he picked up Earth. More precisely: a drive-in’s midnight programme. Rubber monsters! Flying saucers! People fleeing badly lit models! Kreba was moved. At last, someone with normal family videos. He decided to visit his relatives.
Arrival with minor defects.
His spaceship was a stolen soup kettle, three satellite dishes and an engine that only ran when nobody believed in it. Intergalactic customs demanded a form. Kreba ate the form. A brief chase through a wormhole followed, then a very long conversation with himself.
He landed behind the drive-in. Sideways. The audience screamed. Kreba waved back, accidentally removing the ticket machine and half the opening programme. Then he ordered popcorn. For 800 people. No salt. Extra aerial.
Why he’s here now.
We found him between two film reels. He said the projector had adopted him. We offered him a place in the Hirnflimmern laboratory. Now he guards bad taste, occasionally eats the cursor and keeps the midnight programme alive. Sometimes the flickering screen is interference. Sometimes he’s remembering home.
A lobster. A transmitter. A homesick cosmic recycler. It depends which of his six stomachs you ask. On Korrok he is still missing. Yesterday, his planet finally answered. The message contained three words: ‘MOTHER IS COOKING.’
