Sirian adj.

[Reprinted from Daily Graphic] If hydrogen at the centre of the sun is of the consistency of pitch, what must be the density of water on the Sirian planets? And if water would be solid, how would it form the tissues of a body analogous to that of man, who is nine-tenths water?

It is idle to speculate about the habitability of the Sirian planet; but there is plenty of room for a large population. The body is about 880,000 miles in diameter and would give globe-trotters something to do if they got around before the close of their lives.

It lay before me, a limpid pool in a basin of lemon stone like onyx save that it was neither mottled nor veined. It shimmered in the Sirian ray an oblong of water as brilliant as a bit of polished silver, inside the expanse of the enclosure, paved with alternating squares of rock-crystal and pure white stone.

The intelligent inhabitants of the Sirian world seemed amply prepared against invaders. Their weapons and the relentlessness with which they attacked the nine interstellar ships were beginning to worry the leaders. They were allowed no respite.

Sandra fell back into a chair, hid her face in her hands. The vision of Earth, her home, its green fields and tossing oceans, its teeming peoples even now living and loving and laughing, unknowing of onrushing catastrophe, brought choking sobs from her lips. ‘Yes,’ repeated Jerry dully, as if to himself, ‘nothing can save Earth. A new nova will appear in the heavens for the delectation of astronomers on some Sirian planet.’

‘I am from Earth.’ Biron paused, then added, ‘Your Grace.’ The addition pleased her. ‘Where is that?’ ‘It is a small planet of the Sirian sector, your Grace.’

‘But why?’ Ray gasped. ‘Why should a Sirian mother—dressed in a threadbare Sirian shawl, no doubt—abandon her baby in our ship?’ ‘Why do mothers in threadbare shawls usually abandon babies?’ ‘M’m. Because they can’t support them. Or because they’re illegitimate, or something.’

Modern elevators are strange and complex entities. The ancient electric winch and ‘maximum-capacity-eight- persons’ jobs bear as much relation to a Sirius Cybernetics Corporation Happy Vertical People Transporter as a packet of mixed nuts does to the entire west wing of the Sirian State Mental Hospital.

There is something in Sirian nature that demands, that flourishes, in situations of challenge, provided best by the takeover of a new planet, its problems, it regulations, its development.

After Dex Fresser had consumed sixteen hits of acid (his supplier had never really grasped the idea of powers of two), five bong-loads of hashish rolled in mescaline, a square of peyote Jell-O, a lude, four tracks, a small handful of street-legal caffeine pep pills, twelve tablespoons of cough syrup, half a can of generic light wine and a pack of Gaulois cigarettes [...] Dex spazzed out to the max. All became quiet as the propulsion reactors of a passing Sirian space cruiser damped out his stereo (the DJ had turned down the volume), and all heard Dex announce that at midnight Big Wheel would say something very important to him.

His voice had the deep burrr of a man who kept fishhooks in his beard. So I put on my white Teflon jump-suit, slid sleeves and levers tight, pulled my hair shut with Sirian beeswax and en-route superterranean to Toucan Bay via antimatic congo pump I met Cain waiting with the contraband: 8 grams of Ceboletta X.

My apologies to fellow galactics for Sirian parochial attitudes. We teach greatness so that our offspring can rise above the treachery of their biology and so that they will never encounter a galactic or a situation except on terms of equality. We teach greatness so that we can imagine it, and, having imagined it, achieve it.