Deliberations

Silence fell in the previously noisy hall. The Marshal climbed onto the podium, took a deep breath, and said,

"I declare the 24th Diplomatic Congress open!"

A five-minute ovation erupted. I even applauded. The Marshal swelled (literally) with pride. His neck pouch more than doubled in size.

"Let's not be fooled by this Jewish-communist!" one of my advisors suddenly spoke through the terminal. Without a doubt, those who elected him to this position must have suffered from some brain disease, or at least from a lack of information. After all, to call someone a Jew, one must first consider whether they are a human being (and I was the only one in the room!). Secondly, after the passage of the law on the destruction of high-destruction weapons, all communists were sent to the sun.

Is our race suffering from irreversible idiocy?

The marshal's voice interrupted my thoughts:

"...the first matter we will consider will be resolving the conflict in the constellation of Gundyfora.

That is, the constellation of Lyra.

" "The local interracial company 'PAC,'" the marshal continued, "which leases artificial asteroids, has entered into conflict with its clients by raising the price of liquid substances. As a result, the races living in liquid environments have suffered significantly. It has come to the point that some clients are beginning to violate their contracts with the company, prohibiting them from leaving before the agreed date. 'PAC' is defending itself by closing airports. As a result, many refugees have been cut off from their families. They have reported this to the embassies. Some plantations have announced mobilization..."

I stopped listening to him. I'm only paid to sit here. And that's quite a good thing. I did the right thing by listening to my father. Thanks to him, I obtained legal status a year before my actual graduation, and with top marks.

I felt sleepy. So I settled into my armchair for a nap. Unfortunately, the Froxillian sitting next to me snored so loudly that it was impossible to sleep in his presence.

Froxilians are a strange race. They live in shells, much like our snails. Almost three-quarters of their lives are spent sleeping. This prevents them from using up excessive amounts of food, which is always in short supply on Froxil. It is a small, swampy, and cold planet located on the edge of the constellation Pisces. During its 400-day year, 286 days are spent at night. During this period, all plants and animals (including Froxilians) fall asleep. During the day, the Froxilians focus on building a civilization. Although they work very hard, catching up with other races is rare. This makes them the least developed civilization in the galaxy. This doesn't bother them much, as their life has been the same for centuries. They live in bulbous houses called "afaa," built of clay with the addition of local minerals. Each "afaa" consists of three rooms: a large room in the center, a granary, and a latrine. Froxilians spend 97% of their time in the main chamber. There they sleep, eat, and absorb gases. Typically, four adults (each of a different gender, as Froxilians have four) and about thirty children live in the "afaa." They live there for five daily cycles until their parents assign them to a specific role in the city (Froxilians have only one, but it's a massive city). The dumbest individuals must extract food from the mud. The smartest are sent to a research facility of sorts. There, they develop theoretical plans commissioned by other planets. They then sell them for food and medicine (Froxilian medicine is very primitive compared to, say, Earth's). They were accepted into the United Races Organization solely because of their cheap project prices. This allows their clients to obtain technology they would otherwise have to spend a fortune on.

"Chamidło..." muttered an advisor in the adjacent terminal, "As if there weren't more important matters...

I know what those matters are. Environmentalists like him only care about vermin and grain sprouts. Unfortunately, they don't know that ecology is a science that examines the relationships between animals and the environment. Sozology deals with protection."

A stir erupted in the chamber. One MP blocked the lectern when the debate on the aforementioned agricultural subsidies ended. The Speaker turned off the loudspeakers, but the MP's "Self-Defensive" party brought their own:

"I knew," MP Leffer said into his own microphone, "that you would cut me off when I spoke the truth. But I prepared myself. Now everyone will know the truth..."

The Marshal briefly tried to calm the MP, and when he refused to be convinced, the Marshal's Guard was called. These were specialized units designed for quelling riots. They threatened Leffer with electric lances. The MP's fur stood on end. After a moment's thought, he ordered the speakers removed and returned to his seat. He knew full well what had happened to MP Jinkowski.

"Fine..." said the Marshal. "Let's move on to the next part of the meeting, during which the Prime Minister of the ORP will deliver his speech.

" A humanoid in a black spacesuit stepped onto the podium. He thanked the Marshal for the floor and was about to speak when MP Niwak appeared beside him. He carried a banner in his six tentacles: "Hunger protest against corruption in the ORP! No more lobbying! Equality and brotherhood!" The Marshal seemed to want to throw him out of the room, but refrained, considering Niwak's low level of harmfulness.

"Mr. Marshal, your honorable chamber," said Prime Minister Bel. "As a representative of the legally elected government..."

"The elections were rigged!" someone from the League of Galactic Families blurted out, but the Alliance of the Totalitarian Left silenced him.

"...I ask you to vote 'Yes' during the debate on the military budget bill for the next cycle. This will greatly help our troops in the Ipak galaxy." Thanks to this, we will complete stabilization and introduce democratic rule there. Already during this cycle, we have achieved successes such as interplanetary communication, a free market economy, and reduced unemployment. If you don't allocate additional funds, Ipak will descend into anarchy and endless wars. New dictatorships will arise on colonies and planetary fragments. What a complete destabilization of the region! Furthermore, we will not control the illegal research that hostile factions are undoubtedly conducting on more primitive planets. This could even result in the transformation of the central star into a black hole!

An uproar ensued. Members of the Galactic People's Party thrashed Democratic members with their fins and paws. The General Alliance of the Totalitarian Left was at odds with the Galactic Social Democracy. The Marshal pounded the floor with his cane, but it was to no avail. Even the Marshal's Guard had trouble maintaining composure. When the excitement subsided after the application of the gas, the deputies took their seats and licked their wounds. Only I, as one of the non-affiliated deputies, was unharmed.

Then the entire space station shook. The door to the chamber opened, and Fabrizio, the usher, burst in

. "People!" he shouted.

"No insults!" Leffer said, offended.

"People! What a disaster! They're attacking us!"

At that moment, the Froxilian jumped up and fired a weapon hidden in his armor at the marshal. He fell lifeless.

I fell to my knees. I began to crawl toward the exit.

"Listen to me!" the Froxilian shouted in galactic Esperanto. "Your time is numbered. You've been fighting each other for years. You're at odds within your own parties, not to mention others. You can't handle the simplest matters! You change governments like gloves! You exploit races you consider more primitive to handle your affairs!" But enough of this! We're going to take over! Now we'll rule the galaxy!

I heard his voice as I ran down the corridor. I quickly entered the colony pod, now serving as an escape hatch. Besides me, there were a few other people in it. Mostly diplomats and low-ranking officials. The pod launched.

We landed on a forested planetoid. It was too small and too worthless for the Froxlians to bother with antennae.

We had a clear view of the battle in the sky. None of us hoped to win. We lacked a sufficiently formidable weapon. The Froxlians were superior to us in every respect. During their long sleep, they had formed a kind of single mind. This mind had been developing plans for conquest and preparing for attack for centuries. For hundreds of years, it had been saving the resources needed to build a fleet in underground factories.

Immediately after landing, I reprogrammed the robots to obey only me. This way, I forced the remaining ones into obedience. This is the Froxlian tactic – wait until the enemy loses their mind and then launch the attack.

I ordered the machines to build me a hut. It would be my home until a better one was built using the resources from the capsule. Then, houses for the rest were built, along with a sort of hospital. A medical robot was stationed there, providing basic assistance. I assigned Regulators, self-propelled guns, to maintain order and security in the colony. They were really there to maintain discipline, because even if I were killed, no one else could give orders.

I also ordered a search for raw materials. Thanks to this, I would start a small industry producing first, second, third, and in the future, even fourth necessities. We obtained food from fruit and from the fields. No one had to do anything, because everything was done by robots. They even built a factory where additional machines were built. You could say this is the first example of true communism. However, I prefer not to trust Marx and Engels. I already know how this could end. That's why I ordered the computer to search for information about the forced uniformization of society. There will certainly also be something about depriving one of one's will and extending life.

My final problem will be finding a wife...