Copperoton as a whole has become the very definition of cultural convergence, being the New World for the doomed humanity. As colonization grew on the planet, its natives became resentful of their presence. And as time grew, tensions grew as well...
The locations and events mentioned in this story take place on a distant planet called Copperoton.
Upon speculation of Luke Edwards the penguin, this is his story.
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Years ago, I remember being lulled to sleep by the crackling sounds of a warm fire. The heat from the fire covered me like a blanket, and I slept almost too well under this cloak. The hearth's stone pattern and the decorations upon it were lit a golden orange. In the doorway, snow concealed the welcome mat which was always left inside. I, alone, had managed to dig myself through the snow and out of my cabin and expand my home to the world of rooftops. A draft of cold air waltzed into my cabin from the rabbit hole, making one side of the house cold from the outside and one side warm from the fireplace. The two temperatures fought quietly for dominance in the house, giving me a comfortable environment to nap under my blanket of firelight.
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I had fallen half-asleep listening to the nightly reports on the Copperoton World News Channel (CWNC for short). But something was different about what I was listening to. It wasn't the usual lady speaking, but it was a man's voice- evil and dark in tone. I cracked my eyes open a bit to see what was going on. I saw a dark figure standing in front of a burning news studio with a man on his knees behind him. I don't remember what exactly he said, but it was something about "... the doom of humanity..." Shortly after, he said something to his cronies and the camera zoomed in on the man.
"Remember humans... this is what you did to us." The figure gave another command to his men and they began pouring the gasoline. The kneeled man was quickly drenched, and my eyes were now wide open. They lit a match and threw it upon the poor man. The screen was now fire and screams- an example of the suffering that apparently the humans had inflicted upon the arsonists.
To say I was disturbed was an understatement, at best, so I grabbed the remote from under my feathery body and turned my TV off- diminishing a usual light source in my house.
I slowly rose from my specially built rocking chair (which was made specifically for penguins) and blinked my eyes up and down. I was in disbelief. I shook the terrifying feelings off of my head with a series of violent jerks. I looked up and around my house, trying to remember what I was going to do after I finished my nap.
Through the shock, my eyes scanned toward my laundry room, where my fishing hole was. I could've stared at the fishing hole in the laundry room for a whole minute before I remembered what my idea was.
My fishing hole was a necessity, and not just for food, but for social reasons. The hole was cut straight through my floorboards and through the decently thick ice and into the ocean cities below.
I have a friend who lived in the ocean cities beneath the thick glacial ice. He was dubbed Jed by myself because his full name is somewhat of a mouthful (Jedediah Smith). Jed is a blue-ringed octopus. He's not very social, he likes weird food, and he's also poisonous. Normally, Jed wouldn't make a very good friend. Nonetheless, Jed was my friend. A beloved friend. He provided me with company through the long Arctican storms and I provided him with social skills. It was a healthy relationship.
