Planetbuilding: Cronos

October 19, 2013 Text No comments
Planet Rings
I hesitate in suggesting a name for the planet beyond Pluto, the loping hound of war. Must it be called Cronos?
Imagining culture:
  • Gorgonzola cheese, armored bulls in battle, fast, whip-like men, black clouds and bearded Zeuses and Poseidons aplenty, ecstasy-inducing yellow clouds, flying magnetic toroidal ships, squiddly, lithe creatures in the blackened sweetwater. Fluctuatory sea levels that must be battled back with physical force, pushed out into space as vesper, hardened, and collected like trophies when the metals tumble groundward.
  • Harvested metal is used to construct planet-wide Medusa computer that observes everything.
  • Ultraviolet sickle shaped moon that appeared suddenly around 200 years earlier. Looks curved like a bone earring or aurochs horn. Smooth and polished and opalescent.
  • Wandering stars at night, few bright enough to be seen repeatedly between the blanketing clouds, the belted Orion is ever-present and looming. They all disappeared around the same time the moon reformed in the sky. A warning or merely a mysterious coincidence?
  • Perhaps the hanging balloons at local ports await helium and laughter to be filled and sated.
  •  The bulls ridden for war have an electrified strip of hair along the side where knees can be joined. It’s horns can be climbed and held for mounting and grounding and the hair rubbed and strips pulsed with the knees for charging and lunging with concussive electrical force. Metal bulbs on the horns.
  •  Cataphracts. Crushing charge and inhumanly fast death or capture. Death by their hands is swift and cruel. They wield metal-tipped spears and glimmering, curved daggers at their waists. Their polished armor consists of a single, smooth metal sheath, allowing them to easily slip away from pursuers and withstand attacks.
  • Once a line breaks, through muscle or magnetism or pointy skewers, the females pick through the corpses to collect the iron and copper, and carry it back with them, but only if they’re strong enough to hang onto the bull and the men riding them when escaping.
  •  When Pluto is belted and collared and hounded, his victory will be in stalking those who held him prisoner from the dark clouds of night to which he is released.
  • In the bright, sandy desert, spitting clean water is a gift of hydration. However, in this place, it is an insult to life itself if done without thought of consequence, as only felt between heartsung lovers and bound brothers who share drink at festival.
  • To fight the rising water, the men charge their hair with static from the air, and heat and boil away the rising tides from their three magnetic poles.
  • Those laying near the shore rest on backs or bellies and spin their feet in the air to pulse energy out of their internal dynamos, until enough vapor is created through the power of evaporation to shield from the spinning, magnetic fields passing all around that destroy the people’s thoughts and dreams.
  • With three poles and ultraviolet light, the planet spins in chaos, the weather is unpredictable, and the hope for growing food hangs by a tenuous, uncertain thread.
  • Trade winds and currents contorted by dual satellite rings.
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