“Aliens have established contact. To the displeasure of Humans, they strongly insist on changing the official names of all planetary bodies to what they know according to the Galactic Counsel, including Earth.” -u/ammonite89, original post here.
“Look, we’re not going to change the name of our planet to ‘Durfpoon’. It’s ridiculous.”
Grik pounded at his chest, metal bracers clashing loudly against his chestplate. “You would dishonor us, puny Durfpoonian? The Galactic Counsel has known your planet as Durfpoon for generations!”
The Earth Ambassador—or Durfpoon Ambassador, depending on who you asked— sighed and rubbed at his temples. He pressed the mic button back down, and a small indicator showed that he was once again speaking to the imposing alien.
“I understand that you might have gotten used to the name Durfpoon over the years, but we’ve been calling our planet Earth for considerably longer than that. And besides, it’s our planet. Don’t we get final say in what we’re called?”
The alien swelled with anger, his head literally inflating as loose sacs of skin expanded. His disturbingly tall, thin companion rested a hand on Girk’s shoulder and stepped forward.
“We have much more experience with interplanetary relations than you, young Durfpoonian. We do not wish to cause you grief, but you must understand the risks of allowing a civilization to name themselves. Untold billions were slaughtered in the aftermath of the Conquerians, driven on by a rage instilled into every aspect of their culture, down to the name of their planet.” She bowed her head in what seemed to be a moment of quiet remembrance. Even Girk deflated a bit. She snapped her head back up, fixing the Ambassador with a reptilian stare.
“The Galactic Council assigns names arbitrarily, so that all may be equal. It is just and fair, and has saved countless lives. I have heard that your culture values justice and equality—or were we mistaken?”
“No, we don’t want to buck the system, it’s just—ugh, never mind. Look, let me talk to my superiors about this, alright? They aren’t going to like it.”
“Then you must cut off their heads and plant them on spikes!” Girk roared. “Only then might they be replaced in a fair, representative election!” He stepped forward, gripping the camera that connected the Galactic Council’s space station to the Embassy ship and bringing it close to his face. “I have heard stories that you use a first-past-the-post voting system. Barbaric! Single transferable vote is vastly superior to your puny electoral colleges!” Spittle was beginning to coat the lens as he shouted, and his companion was quick to replace the camera in it’s original position.
“Look, just float the idea with your superiors, yes? We would hate for you be denied membership in the Galactic Counsel over something so… cosmetic.”
“Yeah. No guarantees, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Ambassador Smith, signing off.” He pressed a button, and the screen went blank.
Inside the chambers of the Galactic Counsel, dozens of delegates were standing on the other side of the screen, barely managing to stifle their laughter. As soon as they saw Girk and Majeela signing off, the room exploded into an uproar, with Girk laughing the loudest of all.
“Oh my Law, they bought it! They grobbing bought it! Who put in Durfpoon?”
A slug-like being in the back raised a pair of right arms, and was promptly clapped on the back by the surrounding members of the council. Girk beat and his chest and let out a roar.
“Everyone is buying drinks for Darrghu tonight! Nicely done, Darrghu!”
Majella cleared her throat, a wide, toothy smile on her face. “Alright everyone, remember to keep straight faces around the newbies. Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, the next names on the list are calling Alpha Centauri ‘Pupinbutte’ and Sirius ‘Fookuremoffer’. Great work, everyone!”
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