TK Special #6 - jinnis... Bottle of Jinn

The Supernova and the Sandstars

The Supernova and the Sandstars

Far out on the rim of one of the smaller galaxies in the remote backwaters of the universe a nameless, bored blue star committed suicide. Or, expressed in common star lingo, it went supernova. Although a colourful spectacle, the event was of minor interest to the vast majority of the universe.

Popular media didn't cover it at all: They were currently engaged in heated debate if Proxima bogfrogging should be considered a sport featured in the upcoming Pan Universal Lympic Games (PULG) or rather be counted as spiritual experience.

Only the venerable professor Halalax, head of the astronomical department of the Most Important Intercontinental University of Planet Qronok (MIIUPQ), signalled interest in the local supernova. He also was a convinced opponent of sports, including PULG.

Halalax assigned three enthusiastic junior students to the task of observing and documenting the astronomical occurrence. They even were granted access to MIIUPQ's brand new bubble telescope.

Unfortunately, the supernova had the impertinence to occur during the annual Qronok toad-blaster festival, a folkloric event neither accomplished professors nor hip students were prepared to miss.

Qronokian mudtoads and supernovae have one thing in common, namely that they are best blasted respectively observed by night. In consequence, not a single aspiring astronomer was present in the observatory when something unexpected happened.

A glamorous glinthopper, irritated by the obtrusive noise of toad-blasting and cheering, misjudged its hopping distance. Therefore, the insectoid rodent landed in the well-oiled central gear wheel of the clockwork supposed to turn the telescope's bubble. With a sickening and, for the glinthopper, deadly crunch the wheel ground to a screeching halt. The sturdy, glittering chitin armour of the hopper firmly wedged in the wheel's teeth blocked the precision mechanism.

Students and professor returned three long Qronok weeks later, still fighting residual effects of toadsap intoxication. It would be presumptuous to try to explain the intricate complexity of the Qronok calendar and its flexible week and month system in a few sentences.

Suffice to say, upon his return to the observatory, Halalax realised the stench of decaying glinthopper didn't go well with toadsap hangover. In addition, the supernova had come and gone without the telescope's inbuilt expensive, imported digicam recording the slightest glimpse of it.

Embarrassed, the professor graciously ignored the incident and set his students a new, more exciting task. It involved a nearby black hole, an obscure navigational algorithm received by a medium in prolonged seance with a starblazer pilot lost in action, and a leftover barrel of toadsap.

~

Thus, the supernova on the outskirts of an insignificant galaxy in an obscure corner of the universe passed largely unnoticed. Nevertheless, a fierce radiation wave enveloped several neighbouring systems. Most affected stars acknowledged the supernova with a sluggish solar flare or two before returning to burning up their own mass or other private business lonesome stars conduct.

Travelling around one small, lazy star at a leisurely pace was an even smaller, introverted planet. In fact, it showed its surroundings little interest and, bound by gravitational laws, had no way to duck out of the line of fire, anyway.

Subsequently, the radiation wave hit the unspectacular planet full force. A lifeless ball of dust, it cared little about radiation. While it continued dutifully to circle its star, it remained blissfully oblivious to the fact the wave found a target in the vast sandy plains of the arid silicate desert covering ninety-eight percent of its surface. Another two percent were asteroid remains half-buried in the sand. One of those consisted of solid gold, but as nobody discovered it yet, it has no significance for the further development of this story.