By Ingvar.

A round-table conversation of the Elemental Smart-Alec Club, planetary day 7928

Rick ven Fleerbo: I guess you have all heard that them there Anti-Sulphurists are trying to Going-Away me. I am not sure what imagined grief they have with me, this time. Probaby as made-up as everything else they’ve chased me for.

John ven Fengsler: I hear you. I have seen it myself. There’s been many LoCs that have tried to make you a Persion Without Grater in the literary magazines.

Anna min Scorch: I cannot believe the things they make up. Chasing after innocent Sulphurists for no reason what-so-ever. We should write angry Letters of Comment, denouncing all Going-Awayists!

RvF: Yes. It is all so bad.

***

A Letter of Comment, published in Smelly Compounds

Venus, planetary day 7931, from the pen of Anna min Scorch

Fellow Sulphurists!

We need to do something! As late as yesterday, my oldest child arrived home from school, telling me that they’re forced to study hydro-carbons in chemistry class! Hydro! Carbons! Not a single pure yellow atom of Sulphur in that! Only icky hydrogen and dirty dirty carbon!

Please, fellow Artistes. Join me in a letter-writing campaign to have my oldest child’s chemistry teacher fired! It is for a good cause! These things must not be tolerated! Something must be DONE!

***

Trigger Snowflake walked down the Main Street of Fort Corallium, doffing his hat towards, and greeting, his fellow citizens. It had been a quiet few weeks. Not much happening, locally. In the larger Solar System, however, things were not as quiet as they could be. The Saturn Federation had been making noise about the moons of Uranus. To the point of sending liner ships into Uranian orbit.

No matter, Trigger’s responsibility was Fort Corallium, not the system at large. However, other members of the Sheriff’s Union may end up in trouble because of it.

He tried, as much as he could, leave these intrusive thoughts behind him, as he was just about to finish off a day of patrolling the neighbourhood, making Fort Corallium safe for law-abiding citizens. And soon, it was time to return home, to say a hearty “good evening” to Mrs. Snowflake. Trigger could not quite make up his mind if that “good evening”, the customary “sleep well”, or maybe the first “good morning” was the best part of the day. But it probably was one of them.

***

Coraline was down at the Coffee Emporium, just finishing a last cup and reading through this week’s selected Letters of Comments from her clip-and-file service. After sorting through them, one caught her eye for immediate and detailed reading.

\[Cut from “Venewsian News”, LoC column\] Uranianism is a Rock-Planet

Sponsored Misconception

by Briney ven Pommeln

I have been asked multiple times, as a resident on the Saturnian moons, been asked how I view the recent liberation mission of the Saturnian space force to Uranus.

Well, it is quite simple. There is no such thing as a Uranus nationality. Uranus was until very recently a member planet of the Saturnalian Federation. It has been a part of Saturnalian national identity for centuries.

The so-called Uranian Identity is manufactured and sponsored by state actors from rocky planets. Living on the moon of a gas planet, I know that they are not to be trusted, and all we can do to liberate the Uranian moons is right, just, and should be done.

Only two weeks ago, there were fervent pleas from the moon of Miranda, to the Saturnial parliament, to come and liberate them from their Uranian oppressors. And now that the Saturnalian fleet is on its way, we can look forward to a Uranus, returned to the Saturnalian crowd.

Peace to our gas giants, in our time.

***

Coraline dropped her stack of papes down onto the table, as she audibly gasped.

“Coraline, dear, what is it?” enquired Barbara.

“Barbara, I have just read the most horrible thing, from the QuicksilverCon Guest of Honour.”

“Briney ven Pommeln? What’s he written now?” “Oh, I cannot possibly summarise it quickly, please read yourself!”

Ms. Dimatis read through the clipped LoC, then also audibly gasped.

“Oh my. I wonder if QuicksilverCon will have to disinvite him, now?”

By Ingvar: “Trigger, dear?”

Trigger Snowflake was shaken out of his tired musings by the voice of his beloved wife Coraline. “Yes, Coraline?” he replied.

“Are you packed? You know we’re heading to Mars tomorrow, for SysLiCon.”

“I have not forgotten, beloved wife. I only have my holiday hat left to pack. Just finishing up some paperwork, then I’ll come to bed.”

*      *      *

The next morning, fast duly broken, the couple walked to the Fort Corallium spaceport, where they boarded the small vessel provided for Sheriff Snowflake. They’d have to reimburse the Solarian Police for the fuel used, but it was definitely worth the cost for having private transport to the Mars SysLiCon.

It was a momentous SysLiCon. For the first year, Mercury was bidding for an upcoming SysLiCon and it stood between Luna on one hand and Mercury on the other.

The general feeling in the Literature community was that while it would be interesting to have SysLiCon on Mercury, it was not safe for the bulk of the SysLiCon attendees.

And the initial processing of the absentee ballots would begin while they were in transit. Naturally, Trigger and Coraline were eagerly awaiting any and all news beams.

*      *      *

“Oh. Trigger, have you seen?”

“No, what?”

“A telefacsimile transmission just arrived. It seems as if OlympiCon have dropped Urbel as chairperson for the con-meeting.”

“That’s unusual. Why?”

“I am not actually quite sure. But, you’ll have to enquire when we get to Mars.”

*      *      *

“Trigger, there are more updates! Apparently, he has also been dropped from the SysLiCon-on-Luna bid committee.”

“This is very unlike Sheriff Scrogginski. I will need to talk to him, once we get to Mars.”

*      *      *

Trigger expertly maneouvered the ship down onto the landing pad. They still had a few hours before the official opening of OlympiCon, the Mars Systems Literature Convention.

Trigger debarked, then helped Coraline to step down on the landing pad.

“Dearest Coraline, would you excuse me? I need to find Sheriff Scrogginski and see if I can get any clarity in what has been happening.”

“Darling Trigger, you do that. Come back and tell me, once clarity has been achieved.”

*      *      *

“Urbel! Urbel! It’s me, Trigger.”

“Ah, Sheriff Snowflake, a familiar face!”

“So, this whole thing? What happened?”

“Well, as you know, I was on the SysLiCon-on-Luna bid committee. And as such, I was an observer for the initial processing of the absentee future site election. As such, I used the bid committee observer privilege to get some data from the absentee ballots. Specifically, the planet of domicile for the absentee voters.”

“Hm, so far, I see nothing untowards?”

“No, neither did I. So, then, I sent out a Letter of Comment, with the planetary domicile breakdown, highlighting that almost 7 out of 10 were domiciled on Mercury.”

“Well… The on-site voting in the future site selection has a deadline in three days?”

“Yes.”

“But, Urbel, culd this not be construed as election interfering?”

“I very clearly sent the LoC as myself as a private individual.”

“Nonetheless, you are well-known as being the chairperson, and you are, well were, on a bid committee.”

“Yes. In retrospect, I suppose it was not as well-advised as I thought at the time.”

*      *      *

Coraline walked through the main hall of OlympiCon, soaking up the heady atmosphere of literature discussions, happening all around her. It felt so good being back at an actual convention, after all the SOVID issues.

She suddenly stopped, staring at a book propped up at one of the fan tables. It was titled “An Elemental Mess – a History of Sulphurian Actions in Literature”.

She picked the volume up, and only then did she see who was also standing by the table.

“Barbara! I did not know you were here. It is so good to see you!”

“Coraline! I see you have seen my new book. I was inspired to write it, after the whole thing when they thought I was Trigger. I just didn’t know what to call it.”

*      *      *

A few days later, Trigger, Coraline, and Ms Dimatis were taking coffee in one of the convention cafés.

“Ms Dimatis”, Trigger said, “did you know that danishes are actualy called Viennas in Denmark?”

“Yes, Trigger, I knew that. They were apparently first made by a baker from Vienna, who had moved to Copenhagen. Oh! Look! They’re just about to announce the results of the future site election!”

“I wonder how it all went? Ah, yes, I did speak to Urbel. Apparently about 70% of the absentee ballots were from Mercury.”

“Oh, if that had been published in… Wait, is that why he was dropped as chair?”

“Yes, apparently neither OlympiCon nor the SysLiCon-on-Luna concoms thought it was a good look, having someone so well-known doing something like that, even as a private individual.”

“Well, looks like Mercury won the election. So, SysLiCon will be on Mercury in two years.”

“Good for them. I hope they will get many off-planet attendees. But I for one will not go, as I fear being that close to the Sun.”

By Ingvar: Trigger arrived back at his combined Sheriff’s Office and home, after a productive day of patrolling Fort Corallium. All the citizens seemed happy, and he was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening in the company of his beloved wife, Coraline.

He opened the door, hung the belt with his twin laser revolvers on its assigned hook and locked the door behind him.

“Coraline, I am home!”, he shouted, then proceeded to climb the stairs from the office space to his domicile. Once unencumbered by his street clothes, Trigger leaned back in his comfy chair and relaxed.

Not even fifteen minutes later, his reveries were disturbed by Coraline’s agitated voice.

“Trigger! Trigger! You won’t believe it!”

“Hmm?”

“You know Futuristo Magazine? There’s just been an article published about one of their side businesses!”

“From the sound of it, nothing good?”

“No, I am wondering what they’re going to do about it?”

“About what, beloved?”

“So, Futuristo Magazine have this, well, salon. It is called Bistro Futuristo. And apparently, Sulphurists have been putting emetics in the buffet. And until just recently, it had just never been spoken about. I mean, imagine it, you go to a poetry and literature salon, and the next thing you know, you’re spilling your figurative guts over everything.”

“I’m sure we will see a sensible response from the editors and owners of Futuristo.”

“I so hope that is true, Trigger.”

          #          #          #

A few days later, down at the Coffee Emporium, Trigger was having breakfast. A nice cup of Bean of the Day and a grilled synthecheese. As he finished the last bite of the synthecheese, Barbara Dimatis walked up to his table.

“Sheriff Snowflake, may I sit?”

“Why, sure, Ms Dimatis. What troubles you?”

“You’ve heard of Bistro Futuristo? Well, turns out that the editor and owner of Futuristo Magazine has made an announcement.”

“From what my beloved Coraline said, I hope it was a sensible and well-reasoned announcement?”

“Not so much. Actually, it may be easier if you just read it yourself.”

> It has been brought to our attention by some helpful folks, that emetics that not everyone want to ingest have been present in Bistro Futuristo. In order to fully investigate these serious allegations, and the Bistro’s ‘no forcey’ rules, we will be closing the Bistro from Wednesday at noon, and all patrons will have to take their lawful acts of appreciation elsewhere.

“Now that,” said Trigger, “is not the response I would have expected.”

“Well, ven Sveller, the owner and editor of Futuristo Magazine, have shown Sulphur sentiments in the past, but, the way I read this is that there’s basically no way he didn’t know.”

          #          #          #

A long and tiring day of patrolling the neighborhood later, Trigger arrived home.

“Trigger, darling, have you heard?”

“The ven Sveller apolonot? Yes, Ms Dimatis showed me at the Emporium this morning.”

“No. Well, related, but not that. Here, read this!”

An outrage of cancel culture run amok! by Whalie Correadore

As a poet and contributor to Futuristo Magazine, it has been my custom to visit the Bistro, to bask in the presence and splendour that is the collective intelligence and with of the Bistrovians, as we jokingly call ourselves.

I have been an active Bistrovian for 23 years, and I have never had a problem of being slipped emetics. But, I normally stick to the coffee and the Danishes. I mean, people who go for the candy get what they deserve, right?”

Trigger blinked. Was this the beginning of a brewing storm?

None of the sections I curated and collected recipes for ever had a problem. Therefore, this report of inserted emetics is pure hogwash, constructed by the rabidly anti-Sulphur literati. Not, mind you, that I am a Sulphurian myself, but I know several of them.

Trigger shook his head. This was obviously not heading anywhere good.

“Oh, darling, here’s another LoC that you should read.”

Cancelists by Carl Sparkrock

I have been a Futuristo contributor for 30 years. I am probably the most anti-Sulphur Futuristo contributor there is. And I condemn everyone for these false emetics allegations. Why, I used to be a regular in the Bistro, and there was never anything like that going on then.

Sure, I have been on a different planet for 15 years, but I am sure that nothing would ever change in the Bistro, as it is so lovingly curated and managed by not only James, but by several community curators. They ensure that fresh fare is brought forth and every bowl, carafe and pump thermos is kept in good order.

They’re a good bunch, the Bistrovians, I am sure they would never do anything like that.

Trigger simply shook his head. This whole story was becoming more and more unbelievable, for every single report that came out of the Bistrovian camp.

          #          #          #

Later that evening, Trigger found further letters of comment, touching on the matter of the Bistro Futuristo.

My thoughts, by Anna min Scotch

There have been overblown reports of emetics all over everything in the Bistro. As a regular Bistrovian, I can say that this is blatantly false. I have a strict “no emetics” policy for the salad bar. Over in the dessert section, I guess there’s some emetics in among the Cleveries. It’s a known thing and it’s not as if everyone doesn’t already know to stay away from the candy section in general and the Cleveries in particular.

No, this is clearly overblown and there is no emetics problem at the Bistro. I am outraged that James has been forced by these anti-Sulphurians to need to shut the Bistro down. It is a valuable resource for us who publish with and contribute to Futuristo Magazine. They should be ashamed for closing the Bistro down.

This Bistro Futuristo thing. Leanne Ackie

I have occasionally visited Bistro Futuristo. Mostly, I would say, it is a nice, clean, and food-safe environment. But, there are sections that are definitely not.

I am not going to name names, because I do not know them. But, having taken samples from various parts of the Bistro’s buffet of comestibles, I can definitely say that in my sample, one out of roughly every five purple Cleveries candy was absolutely coated in emetics. I also found a single chocolate truffle that had emetics on the inside.

Based on this, I think these self-congratulating reports about “no problem at all” are interesting and show, possibly, a tendency to defend the Bistro while either intentionally obscuring what they know (or should know) or (as some did) simply not knowing, on account of not having visited the Bistro for well over a decade.

Make of this what you want. There was a problem, and either James ven Sveller knew and let it continue. Or, probably worse, ven Sveller didn’t know what was being done in the name of his magazine. Either way, a temporary close-down to ensure that there are no stray emetics, as well as making a strong statement that it is not acceptable going forward, is necessary.

          #          #          #

The next morning, Trigger woke up to Coraline pacing in the bedroom.

“Beloved, what is the matter?”

“Well, it seems that there have been threats against the person who first reported the Bistro Futuristo problem.”

“But? What? Why? That makes no sense. At best, it accomplishes nothing, at worst it puts the Bistrovians in an extremely bad light?”

“Honestly, dear Trigger, I don’t understand it and I am not sure I want to.”

“Threats for what reason?”

“Apparently for not having engaged with ven Sveller before publishing the report. Or possibly for having brought it to light. Something like that.”

“Metaphorically putting my Sheriff’s Hat on, I don’t see why that would have been necessary. We can safely assume that ven Sveller has been aware of what’s going on. I mean, it’s not as if the other Bistrovians weren’t aware, they just chose to declare it ‘not a problem’. And as the proprietor, ven Sveller is fundamentally responsible for the quality of food served in his establishment, even if he has volunteer curators assisting with quality assurance. Also note that, if I understand correctly, the person dosing the Cleveries with emetics was a volunteer curator, pointing towards failures in judgment by ven Sveller. Now, I will go to the kitchen and make us a nice, nostalgic, breakfast of beans on toast.”

By Ingvar: Coraline came up the stairs, just as Trigger took a sip of coffee. The DripMatic 3000 had been behaving oddly the last week, but today’s coffee was pretty good. Well on the right side of “drinkable”, at least.

Trigger put his cup down, as he saw Coraline wave a paper in the air.

“Trigger!” she said, “Look at this! Look who’s standing for president!”

Trigger swallowed his coffee. “But, Coraline, the presidential election isn’t for another four years.”

“Oh, sorry. Not for the Solar System. Just for the Solarian Poets’ Society.”

*    *    *

We now take our omniscient view back a week or so in time, to see how the candidacy that upset Coraline started.

Charles Tayroth woke up, bright and early, just before brunch, as he normally did. This day, unlike most days, he was pondering the upcoming election for the SPS board. “I am a successful poet.”, he thought. “I am a winner. I should clearly be the new president of the SPS.”

With thought and deed being one, he rapidly declared his standing for election.

I, Charles Tayroth, will be standing for president for the Solarian Poet’s Society. I am the most logical choice, because I am rich and successful. I even once won the Best Services to the Poetic Arts. Based on this, you would be a fool to vote for anyone else.

Remember, when it is time to mark your candidate, anything but marking Charles Tayroth for president is foolish and misled. Vote me. Make the Solar System Poetic!

*    *    *

“But, beloved Coraline, who is this Mr Tayroth?”

“Trigger, dear, do you remember, back a while ago, when me and Barbara were upset over the Poetry Of All Of Us win, and what came after? Well, Tayroth is the one who ended up declaring himself the sole reason for the win, and misusing logos for pins, embroidered shirts and other merchandise.”

“That doesn’t necessarily sound like the best person to head a trade association for poets.”

“You are so right. I will need to go speak to Barbara, immediately.”

*    *    *

As Coraline entered the Coffee Emporium, she was met not only by the delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee, but also some strong words and a flung newspaper.

“Barbara? What is happening?”

“Oh, Coraline, the most awful thing. Charles Tayroth is standing for SPS president. Something clearly must be done. But, I do not know what.”

“It is beginning to become clear to me. We need to get a second candidate to stand. Someone who is more liked by poets in general, and who has a chance to win. Someone like you, Barbara.”

“No, Coraline, I could not possibly do that. What would happen to the Emporium, were I to become president of the SPS? I would not have enough time to oversee all the roasting and synthecheese printing. You know how much work it is. And you were possibly even more involved in writing letters of comment than I was.”

“It is a thorny problem, Barbara. Let us sit down with a cup of something to fuel our thoughts.”

*    *    *

“Anna, have you seen? Charles Tayroth is standing for president of the SPS!”

“I have, Rick. It is a wondrous thing. While not a Sulphurian, he has at least showed himself sympathetic to the Sulfurian creed. There is no possible chance that he will lose.”

“I will take it upon myself to spread the good word, to every single poet within venostationary orbit. Personally, if needs be. I will ensure that I do all I can to safeguard Tayroth’s future presidency.”

                    *    *    *

Olaus Frond dropped the newsletter from his surprisingly uncooperative hand. Normally, he had no problem holding on to multiple sheets of paper, but what he just read was so out of the normal that minor bodily malfunctions was a small price to pay.

It was, nonetheless, time for a sharply worded letter of comment.

Charles Tayroth standing for the SPS presidency – an unprecedented crisis in poetry?

   By Flapping-in-the-wind Leaves

   This morning, I saw something that I could not even have anticipated in my most febrile nightmares. Charles Tayroth has declared his candidacy for the presidency of the Solarian Poets’ Society. And at this point, he is standing unopposed.

   To most of us, Charles Tayroth is only known as a businessman. To some of us, he is also known as the person who sullied the collective win of POAOU a while back, by trying to make it his win. To me, and a small number of others, Tayroth is a cruel abuser, who kicks those who happen to have fallen down in his vicinity and, if they haven’t fallen on their own accord, will happily push and trip them.

   I know, because I am one of those he has pushed, tripped, kicked and generally abused. I have hesitated to say something. I am not actually sure why, in retrospect. Maybe my silence has helped him get further than he deserves. But, no longer. My love for SPS is greater than my fear of personal ridicule.

   I am not in a position to stand for the presidency myself, but what we need at this point is a candidate everyone can get behind. Someone with impeccable organizational skills and a good reputation in poetry.

*    *    *

Barbara Dimatis sat down, head between her hands, elbows on the table, almost pressing down. She had just finished reading the letter of comment from Flapping-in-the-wind, and was now in visible distress.

She walked from her office, towards the entrance of the Emporium. “Sophonta, I will be out for a while. You’re in charge.”

She turned left and walked up Main Street. After a few minutes, she reached the Sheriff’s Office, where she paused, hand raised as if ready to knock.

A few seconds later, she knocked on the door, first hesitantly, but by the third knock, it was a firm, almost urgent, knocking.

The door opened. In front of her stood Sheriff Snowflake.

“Ms Dimatis? What a surprise. How can the Sheriff’s Office help you today?”

“Oh, Trigger, I need to speek to Coraline, urgently. You have no idea.”

“Certainly, won’t you come in and sit down, I will tell her that you have arrived.”

Trigger walked up the stairs. Muted voices filtered down from upstairs, but Barbara could not rightly say what was being said, even if the tone was calm and relaxed. As she fidgeted, Coraline came down the stairs.

“Barbara? What’s wrong? Trigger said you seemed upset? Won’t you come upstairs?”, the two women started towards the upper floor. “I won’t offer you coffee, you can have much better at the Emporium and I know that. But, dear, sit down and I can offer you a small sherry, it is good for the nerves and from the looks of you, a pre-noon sherry is exactly what the Doctor would order.”

“Barbara, have you read the latest from Flapping-in-the-Wind Leaves? He has accurately described the whole Tayroth situation. It is a big problem. I fear that SPS will fall down around us, unless something is done.”

“No, Barbara, I have not. Did you bring a copy?”

“I brought the whole issue. Here it is, right there. Read it, please.”

Coraline took the magazine and quietly read, while Barbara took a cautious sip of sherry.

“You are right, Barbara, this is worse than I thought. But, who could we possibly find on short notice, with extensive experience in organizing, as well as an active connection to poetry and the arts?”

“I don’t know, for sure. But, I just had a sudden idea.”

“Do tell, do tell.”

“It just occured to me that you have been on the board, now, for multiple SysLiCons. You also have a proven passion for the arts.”

“What? Me? I could not possibly…”

“Let me get a semi-independent second opinion. Trigger?! Could you come up here? We need your advice.”

Several seconds later, Trigger appeared in the kitchen.

“What advice, Barbara?”

“Well, you know the whole Solarian Poets’ Society presidency election thing?”

“Yes, some Treerot standing, wasn’t it?”

“Tayroth, yes. Well, it turns out he’s even less suitable for president than we thought. And he is still standing unopposed. And without a suitable candidate, with organizational experience, a good reputation in the arts, as well as an active love for the world of poetry, the SPS is basically doomed.”

“Sounds like it. Well, I can think of a few that fits that bill, off the top of my head. Barbara, have you considered…”

“Yes, I have. But, that would mean giving up the Emporium and at this point I am not quite ready for that.”

“Well, the second name that occurs, not because it is necessarily better nor worse, just later in the alphabet is my beloved Coraline. What do you think? Would that be something that would suit you?”

Coraline’s jaw dropped. “What? But? What? No? I mean, yes. But? How much time would it take? Could I possibly…”

“Coraline, darling. It is for the betterment of the arts. I was a single sheriff before I met you and should this take enough time that you would find yourself unable to do all the small things that we jointly have become accustomed to, well, it just means I have to do a bit more. Or that things stay undone. I definitely think that you should consider it.”

*    *    *

“This meeting of the Elemental Smartalec Group is declared open. Anna, could you report on Tayroth’s campaign?”

“We have a second candidate, Coraline Snowflake. But, as we all know, she is deeply unpopular and thus has no chance of winning. Tayroth’s presidency is all but guaranteed.”

“Excellent. We will finally have the president that poets and artists demand. Do we have any contingency plans?”

“Based on the numbers, we don’t need any. A poll last week had a reassuring 100% vote for Tayroth. As I said, despite a new candidate in the field, our victory is all but guaranteed.”

*    *    *

Barbara finished off counting the last few entries on the pre-election poll. Based on the latest polling, Coraline would win by a comfortable margin. A full 68.3% of the SPs electorate had a preference for Snowflake for President. She looked up from the results sheet.

“Coraline? Almost 7 out of 10 prefer you for president. I would consider it time to start writing your acceptance speech. It is by no means a guarantee, but two weeks ago, you were polling at around 30% and now you’re well into a majority. It is of course just a poll, but we may just pull this off.”

“I am so nervous, Barbara. I am almost as afraid of winning as I am of losing. But, yes, I will cautiously start writing my acceptance speech, that is good advice.”

*    *    *

The Solarian Poets’ Society Presidential Election – A Report

    This presidential election campaign is unprecedented. For the first time ever have the SPS stood with a single candidate for president for over half the campaign period.

   When the campaign started, only Mr Charles Tayroth was standing for candidate. But, just over halfway through the campaign period, a second candidate, Mrs Coraline Snowflake, entered the field, campaigning on a basis of proven volunteering within the field of poetry.

       Now that the election is over and the votes have been counted, it is the pleasure of the Electoral Committee to present the results.

    Runner-up, with 6.06% of the vote, is Mr Charles Tayroth. Winner, with 92.24% of the vote, is Mrs Coraline Snowflake. In total 1.7% were write-in candidates, blank or otherwise spoiled votes.

 *    *    *

Slem ven Pocketry dropped the official election results on the table, “This is an outrage. How can Tayroth possibly have gone from an assured win, to a humiliating defeat in only a few months? This makes no sense.”

John ven Fengsler cleared his throat, “Slem, you know as well as I do that numbers do not lie. In the polling, Tayroth had close to all the votes. The only explanation possible here is election fraud. You’re well-versed in the law. Is there anything we can do?”

“Hm, well, we can probably show election fraud. And that’s illegal. Not as illegal as in an official election. But, yes, I am pretty sure we have room to bring a law suit to the SPS election board. We should probably also tell Tayroth that he’s not lost because election fraud. This all makes sense. John, could you ask Anna min Scortch, Rick ven Fleerbo and possibly a few others to start working on slogans and memes?”

   *    *    *

Emmanuel Lilyberg opened his front door, “Lilyberg, what do you want?”

“We have a package for you, if you could sign here?”

Manny signed and brought the package into his home. He had a nagging feeling this was related to all the false rumours going around related to the SPS election. Deep down, he knew that accepting the position as chair of the electoral board would eventually have come to this.

He opened the package. It wasn’t even a good law suit, definitely pre-used and still whiffing slightly of the dry-cleaning fumes. Hopefully, the legal matter would be better. Thankfully, he was in a good position to make an estimate of the chances of the opposing side taking the matter home.

    A suit of law, brought from the Campaign for Tayroth for Solarian Poets’ Society President against the Solarian Poets’ Society Electoral Board.

       We, the Campaign for Tayroth for Tayroth for Solarian Poets’ Society (hereafter “the Campaign”) bring this law suit against the Solarian Poets’ Society Electoral Board (hereafter “the board”) for malicious interference in election, electoral fraud, and the stealing of the presidency of the Solarian Poets’ Society (hereafter “SPS”).

   We have ample evidence that this is the case. In exhibit A, we demonstrate that in a polling on Soldate 17-5, every single polled individual who stated a preference preferred Tayroth as president of the SPS. It is thus not mathematically possible for Coraline Snowflake to have gained over 90% of the vote a mere four months later.

   We will demonstrate how the board interfered with the free will of the electorate. We will show how they maliciously transferred votes from Tayroth to Snowflake. We will demonstrate that they were indeed up to no good at all.

     *    *    *

A few days later, Manny walked over to the court room where the case would be heard. At least, living on Luna, it was easy to get to the central court.

He seemed to be among the first to arrive, the plaintiff had yet to show up. Manny sat down in the Defendant’s Section and waited.

Within a few minutes, everyone had arrived. Slem ven Pocketry seemingly representing the plaintiff. But, at least this time there were no yellow capes signalling Sulphur allegiance.

“Let it be known that Honourable Judge Baycove is in the court. This court is now in session for The Charles Tayroth Campaign for President of the Solarian Poets’ Society v The Solarian Poets’ Society Electoral Board, in a matter of election shenaniganery. Is the plaintiff present?”

“Aye!”, said ven Pocketry, rapidly standing up. “Well, a representative for,” then sat down again.

“Plaintiff is present. Is the defendant present?”

“Aye”, Manny sat down again.

“Defendant is present. I can see that both plaintiff and defendant are not advised by advocates. We have not had a preliminary hearing. The purpose of this session is first and foremost to establish the truth. Based on that truth, we will determine where guilt lies. After that, this court will dispense justice, retribution and corrective measures as it sees fit. Any questions?”

No one spoke, for a few seconds. The judge checked the documents in front of her.

“The Court calls Slem ven Pocketry, Venusian and representative for the Tayrorth Campaign, that is clear enough for now. Please take the witness stand and place your hand on the truth sensors. Please tell us your version of the events. You will be under oath. The truth sensors will signal any perjury, which is punishable all the way up to imprisonment. Please now proceed to the witness stand.”

Hands on the sensors embedded in the railing, ven Pocketry cleared his throat. “I am one of the people who have been working for the Tayroth Campaign. We have seen the Tayroth popularity go from overwhelming in polling to devastatingly low in the actual election. We put forth that this can only be explained by election fraud, in various forms.”

The judge’s gaze wandered across the court room. “Would the defense like to cross-examine at this point?”

“Gladly, your Honour. This over-whelming polling, when was that?”

“It would have been about five months ago?”

“Could the overwhelmingness of the Tayroth polling at that time be explained by Tayroth being the only candidate standing for president at that point? And the decline then be explained by a second candidate, offering a choice between candidates?”

“It is simply not mathematically possible that people would change their preferred candidate.”

“Again, going back to this poll, about five months ago. Could you present it in full?”

“Tayroth was overwhelmingly popular?”

“As it happens, I ordered a copy of the full report from the polling firm. Looking at this breakdown, it seems the actual numbers are 15% for Tayroth, 30% for ‘I will spoil my vote.’ and 55% for ‘if he wins, I will leave the SPS.’ Could this not explain things?”

“Note that the 85% of spoiled votes would not count. This is 100% of the valid votes being for Tayroth. Not mathematically possible!”

“The defense would like to enter this polling document into the evidence. We don’t think we need to do more to demonstrate our innocence in this matter.”

The judge gazed at ven Pocketry in silence. As the Venusian started to squirm, she spoke. “The Plaintiff can leave the witness stand. This court is now ready to pronounce judgment.”

When everyone were back in their assigned seats, she continued. “In the matter of the Tayroth Campain v The Electoral Board, we find that the plaintiff has a sufficiently vague grasp of basic statistics and such a tenuous connection to consensus reality that we cannot put a perjury claim on them. However, we also find that the Electoral Board is completely free of any wrong-doing. In the interest of the legal system, anyone involved in the Tayroth Campaign is hereby instructed to not raise any matter involving mathematics without at least three independent mathematicians checking their basic assumptions. This case is dismissed, with prejudice. For the Court, Judge Baycove presiding.”

By Ingvar: “Trigger, darling?”, said Coraline. “I just saw a really interesting, and disturbing, letter-of-comment.”

“Hm?”

“It’s from this Sean Massdriver, he’s on one of those terminator-chasing cities on Mercury.”

“You mean the ones on rails? Just on the night-side, keeping track with Mercurian dusk?”

“Yes, one of those. He’s writing about this new disease that’s starting to pop up in one of the other terminator cities, Yannis. It’s apparently already killed several people and seems to have just popped up from nowhere.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound good. Do we know anything else?”

“Not at this time, we don’t, no. I’m heading over to the Emporium, to meet Barbara. I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

Trigger was still busy reading the latest legal updates as Coraline closed her reader and headed downstairs. He’d just reached an interesting update on profiteering as the door closed.

#

Barbara Dimatis was in the back office, looking through a combination of news feeds, literary magazines, and the order book for the Emporium. Presumably, there was a pattern to how she did this, but for an external observer, it would have looked random.

She was just finishing a most interesting letter-of-comment from a Sean Massdriver when she heard, faintly, her name being mentioned out by the counter. She stopped and listened. Yes, it was definitely Coraline, what a pleasant surprise.

“Are you sure Barbara is busy? It’s important I get to speak to her?”

“Well, Mrs. Snowflake, she said she’d be busy with some office work, and not to be disturbed.”

“Oh. In that case, can I have the House roast, drip, a quarter spoon of sugar, and maybe a Vienna on the side?”

Barbara stepped out from the office door. “Make that twice, Angelique, dear. I will join Mrs Snowflake for refreshments.”

“Barbara! Have you seen….”

“I think I have, Coraline. Would you join me in the office?”

The two friends sat down at the small table in the corner of the Coffee Emporium’s rather large office, nicely decked out with a white linen cloth and small, fragile-looking lace placemats.

“So, you’ve seen the Mssdriver LoC, Coraline?”

“I have indeed. And I am troubled. If what he writes is real, we have a new disease on our hands, and no one will be immune.”

“It is on Mercury, though.”

“True, but people travel from Mercury all the time, even if it is deep in the Sun’s gravity well. And we have no idea what incubation times look like.”

“No, I think the best we can hope for now is that no one is infectious before symptoms show, and stop being infectious before the symptoms go away.”

“We should be so lucky. Well, if it looks like it’s a new sysdemic, I will do what I can to keep Fort Corallium safe. I will talk to darling Trigger. And you, Barbara, should consider closing the Emporium down for over-the-counter business. This is very much a place where everyone meets, and if the new disease is sturdy on hard surfaces, this could become the one place that infects our whole delightful town.”

“I will take that under consideration. If nothing else, we could expand the delivery business.”

With that, the coffee was finished, and the two pastries eaten. Coraline brushed the few remaining crumbs off the table into her hand and deposited the detritus in Barbara’s waste basket.

“It was delightful, Barbara, to talk to you, even if the subject matter leaves something to wish for.”

“Likewise, Coraline. Don’t be a stranger. Take care of Sheriff Snowflake for us, will you?”

#

Trigger was walking down Main Street, nodding a quick “hello” to people as he passed. It was a beautiful day, the sun a small, bright star on the horizon, and the gas giant bright and bold, covering a substantial portion of the sky.

Such a day really demanded a good cuppa, and a grilled synthecheese. His feet quickened by the thought, Trigger sped up somewhat, as he headed for the Coffee Emporium.

“Sheriff Snowflake!” Barbara said as he entered. “Welcome. The usual?”

“Thank you, Ms Dimatis, if you would?”

“Say, Sheriff, would you feel horribly imposed on, if I were to give you a second synthecheese, on the house?”

“Is this an attempt to curry favour from a lawman?”

“No, Sheriff, I have been tracking the progress of SoVID-59, and I have taken the decision that the Emporium will close its doors to walk-in customers, when we close for the day. And, so, I am trying to empty the cupboard of perishables. As well as leaving our loyal customers with a happy feeling that we here at the Emporium are trying to do the right thing.”

“Sous Vide? Isn’t that a cooking technique? What does that have to do with…”

“Have you not heard, Sheriff? The new Mercurian flu. It’s caused by the Solaris virus.”

“Ah, Solaris-virus. I’ve heard of that. It’s that thing that started in a Mercurian terminator-town, by someone having illicit contact with Mercurian soil in the market, no?”

“No, Sheriff, we don’t actually know how it started. But we do know that the first cases were in Yannis.”

“Oh, this is the thing Coraline talked about a couple of weeks ago. I remember now. So, what does that have to do with sous vide?”

“Not sous vide. SoVID. ‘Solaris Virus Infectious Disease – 2359’. It’s spread at least as far as Mars now, and I think the most responsible thing I can do now is to shut down and prepare for what’s coming. You may want to alert our shop keepers that they should limit essentials to only a few items per customer. If I am extrapolating the numbers correctly, we will hear something official in the next few days.”

“I will do that, Ms Dimatis, I will do that.”

In silence and contemplation, Trigger finished his coffee and grilled synthecheese. With the bill paid, he left the Emporium, to pass the information he’d been given o the shopkeepers of Fort Corallium.

#

Trigger had just finished his breakfast, when his teleprinter beeped. It only did this for incoming priority communication from Law Inc. Headquarters. He headed down to his office, plucked the still-warm sheet from the output hopper and rapidly read the text.

“Coraline, dear! Looks like Fort Corallium has been put on Antisocial Distance, it’s come.”

“Told you! Good thing that Barbara closed down the Emporium two days ago, should put us in a better situation to weather this. I guess this means no patrolling Main Street?”

“On the contrary, I am to double the frequency, and ensure that no one is within spitting distance of anyone else.”

“Poor, beloved Trigger! I know how much the friendly conversations and gatherings in our town mean to you. But, in this time of infectious disease, we all have to do what we can to curb the spreading!”

“Right as always, beloved. Right as always.”

Trigger put on a pair of vinyl gloves, and set out for his morning stroll up and down Main Street. The street was emptier than normal, but up ahead, he saw a small group of people gathered outside the General Store.

“Citizens! I must ask you to stand further apart. You can still form an orderly queue, but please keep a distance of at least 1800 millimetres between you. This is to stop the spreading of the Solaris virus!”

The crowd slowly expanded, to comply with what the lawman had just said.

“Thank you, Sheriff Snowflake” said Joseph Lilyberg. “This new Antisocial Distance has us all confused. We’re all quite social, at heart you see.”

“I know, Lilyberg, I know. I would say go with it for now. You can be close to your family at home. But, please keep your distance in public. And do NOT try any panic-buying, because I would be unhappy having to arrest you. And then I would need to deep-clean the cell, which is really rather annoying. Take care, now.”

#

Several months later, the doors of the Coffee Emporium burst open and Barbara Dimatis stepped outside, bull-horn in hand.

“The medical authorities have declared the crisis over. I have spoken to Sheriff Snowflake, and the Antisocial Distance decree has been cancelled. Your first cuppa is ON THE HOUSE! And we have fresh pastries. Welcome all!”