A Tale of Two Planets
What the Algeons already knew
In a galaxy far, far away
On the lush, water-rich world of Algeon Prime, tucked away in a spiral arm of a distant galaxy, civilization thrived on algae. Not just as a crop, but as culture. Generations of Algeons had perfected it: crispy seaweed sheets, bubbling green stews that occasionally burped back, and fizzy, fermented tonics, ranging from non-alcoholic to jet-fuel strength, with the unmistakable tang of their beloved oceans.
Algae wasn’t just food, it was identity. Algae was life itself.
So when a startup called Sizzlr tried to launch a bold new concept, eating animals, it was... awkward.
“Our research shows that animal tissue contains rich proteins and fats,” the founder, a smooth-talking bioengineer named Ziggy McMeatface (translated from Kelpish, the official language on Algeon), said at launch. “Think: tender muscle, grilled to perfection. It’s chewy, dense, primal.”
The audience stared in horror.
“You mean... living, sentient beings?” one Algeon gasped.
“Yes,” Ziggy said proudly. “Cows. Pigs. Chickens.” He was really on fire now.
He meant, of course, the local species that roamed Algeon’s steppes and forests, creatures that resembled Earth’s domesticated animals, but only in the loosest, most unsettling sense. Their original names were, naturally, unpronounceable to most non-Algeons, and sounded something like Grøntflarbs, Snütbeasts, and the mildly venomous Chikk’nok.
The Grøntflarb, Algeon’s answer to the cow, was a hideous, eight-legged, gelatinous grazer that emitted a low-frequency hum capable of curdling nearby liquids. It digested externally and would then eat the resulting slurry. The Snütbeast, a distant cousin of the pig in both shape and attitude, was covered in bioluminescent wart-clusters and had a deeply upsetting habit of licking its own shadow. The Chikk’nok was a twitchy, feathered horror with four eyes, two tails, one antenna, and a tendency to panic itself into spontaneous combustion.
Unpleasant biology aside, the crowd’s reaction was immediate: gasps turned to dry heaves. Some fainted. Ziggy’s fuzzy, rainbow-colored mohawk, currently trendy among Algeon’s hipster elite and rumored to be algae-powered, did nothing to ease the collective disgust. If anything, it made things worse.
One furious grandmother* shouted, “You want us to consume fellow creatures when the ponds are full and the algae thrives?!”
Suggesting they eat bubbling excrements couldn’t have gone over worse.
TL;DR: The recipe app was deleted. The brand tanked. Ziggy became a meme. He shut down all his social media accounts, where, on most days, he received death threats, and on good days, just insults too vile to repeat. The media was unanimous in its condemnation of the novelty "food", most opinion pieces dripping with sarcasm. “Could have told you so”, said 89 percent of the population in a representative poll (funny coincidence: the same percentage of Earthlings say they want more climate action, go figure).
Somewhere, a certain grandmother just smiled, between sips of a sweet, fermented algae elixir called GeriTonic™.
Concerned that his train wreck of a startup might reflect poorly on his moral compass in the eyes of Algeon’s opinionated public, Ziggy joined an NGO and applied his bioengineering skills to the development of nutritious algae-based snacks for underprivileged kids in low-income urban zones. The program, called MUCUS (Meal Upgrades Centered on Uplifting Superfoods, sounds gross only to Earthlings), is now in its second year.
On Algeon, no one ever again dared to suggest adding fellow creatures to a meal plan.
* Algeons are gender-fluid, though some eventually pick a lane and stick with it, usually after too many forms to fill out.
[Follow me for more stories on Algeon’s fascinating traditions, like kelp couture through the ages, arranged polyamory with houseplants, algae whispering competitions, rewilding sentences for organized crime, and much more.]
