The wonders of the legal System of Stymron 9

There is no phenomenon more endangered than that of the paradox – an event that should be completely impossible but exists through sheer stubbornness. They are most commonly formed as a by-product of the equally impossible notion of immortality[1]. In 90% of cases, paradoxes go on to contract a strain of acute improbability, quickly imploding with a noise that can only be described as a dry squelch. They possess the tendency to render less developed life-forms dizzy, nonsensical and annoyingly existential (heralding the dawn of Philosophy). Despite this, almost unbelievably, the biggest threat to their existence came from the introduction of bootstraps to the uniform of S.A.P. (Safeguards Assisting Paradoxes) – a decision labelled ‘pointless’ and ‘a tad too Edwardian for my tastes’ by its members, who subsequently retired amongst waves of name-calling and a general disgust of 18th Century Earth Fashion.

These events are such a rarity that there is only one record of a currently functioning paradox in the entire universe: The intergalactic courts of Stymron 9. Much like twitter, no one could predict the surprising success or offense caused by their creation. The people of Stymron 9, a race that was unfortunately miscounted as the 10th Tiks, gave the court its first case: to outlaw the concept of legality.

The people known as the 10th Tiks, ever since their great miss-numbering, had developed a planetwide case of chronic depression, and with it, the enviable ability to self-induce comas. Monday mornings saw to the simultaneous collapse of 86% of the population, with 13.89% instead deciding more joy can be found at the bottom of an ice-cream tub and the remaining 0.11% becoming somewhat indifferent to Monday Mornings (2% of these people are named Kevin and often congregate together upon rejection from all other social circles). To combat the economic strain, the first court of Stymron 9 outlawed, firstly the mention of the number 10, but more importantly the practice of pessimism and non-smiling. This lead to a surge in work efficiency, dental care profits and at least a 3% whitening of the planet’s surface.

Understand, when presented with the first case in this great court’s history, the judge quickly realised that to dismiss such a confounding notion could be classed as a Level 2 pessimistic offense; restricting her dental services and risking a yellowish tinge to what was an eggshell white smile. The thought of a tint proved too much, thus, the law was passed. Meanwhile, in some distant part of the universe, a rather miserable banker wondered how in the world he had managed to screw up shooting himself in the head.

Governments, Lawyers, Universities – all academics of law were thrown into chaos by this new concept. A surge of research into this law swept the cosmos, producing titles such as Littering – Bins are the real enemy here, Face-Swap – Why the original should be flattered by your portrayal and Jaywalking – Don’t worry about imminent death, you do you. These of course went out of date, and their content completely useless, within the first 4 seconds of their printing, but remain on the best-seller lists through their surprising robustness as bricks used in urban development and wedges for wobbling furniture.

Six centuries since the creation of this paradox and the building still stood in proud defiance of common sense. Walking up the red lawn of the Courts, Xaythre (pronounced Chris) gazed up at the courthouse. The distortion caused by the paradox was plain to see, as the most confusingly average and averagely confusing of creatures conglomerated around the courthouse’s steps. The building itself was an enormous structure of 314.159 rooms and 1 wall made of a material that appears green through through the left eye, purple through the right and, through all other eyes, an infinite range of beige. Walking up the red lawn of the Courts, Xaythre (pronounced Chris) opened each of their 7 eyes in sequence, watching the colours shift under their gaze; amused all the way up to the 4th shade of beige.

Xaythre was one of the more normal looking of creatures, despite the prime number of purple eyeballs on their body, only 3 of which were on their head, and being labelled as a plant in 47% of Galaxies. At this stage of their life they were humanoid, with dark green skin that seemed to fade into the background, and the odd tendril that would encircle their arm. Xaythre yawned as they were thrown into shade by the presence of a cloud. And once more attempted to recall the events of the previous day.

Why Xaythre was there, they could not fathom. One second they had been purchasing an illegally-legal cocktail from an organic bar[2] on Stymron 4 (home to the thankfully logically named 4th Tiks) and the next moment they had received a summons to court via b-mail: a revolutionary new technology in which a recipient is notified of a message via not being attached to a brick which is subsequently catapulted at the recipient’s head. For now, all Xaythre knew about from their experience was that wearing boots instead of socks in an organic bar caused nothing but mucus and that books on the Stymron legal system were basically identical to bricks when hurled at one’s face.

Whatever they were called in here for today, it almost certainly was going to bore them. If there was one thing Xaythre didn’t want, it was a boring trial. They glanced up at the clock, as the 4th hand moved from 9 to 11 with a faint dang, and stepped into the Courthouse.

[1] The most recent of which was the creation of Donald Trump from the immortality of the sentient rubber duck named Mr. Squeaks.

[2] An organic bar is a bar whose structure has been grown from ethically sourced seeds. All bars must have been grown for a minimum of 32 years before sale of drinks may begin.


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