—!VJOOM!—TOTALFUCKINGSTATIC—…TUDUM—
RADIO NEBULA 69.99 FTLM![a cosmo-jazz jingle trying so desperately to be music you want to hand it two extra bitrate points and your deepest condolences][Dick dragged in a breath like he was scraping together the last scraps of patience in the studio]“Alright, alright, alright…
looks like we’re about outta time…
time to shut down another Sunday disaster.”
[He lazily tapped the panel, his eyes sliding toward Jackie—almost casually, but not quite]“But before we get the hell off this rusty station…”
[A short pause, his voice softening just a little]“Baby… five days from now, we got something coming up.
Wanna tell our gremlins while I pack my junk?The air’s yours, sweetie.”
[Jackie leaned in slightly, the mic catching her breath—her voice turning warm, velvety, almost… home-like]“Ah… yeah… you’re right.
This Thursday, by SST…
it’s Christmas.December twenty-fifth…
by the old solar calendar.”
[A small pause—like her thoughts drift somewhere else for a second]“For more than a third of humanity…
for centuries…
this day meant something.Something important.
Something sacred.”
[A faint smile slips into her voice]“They say…
on this day…
Santa Claus would come.An old man in red and white…
long beard…
bringing gifts to children.Well… the ones who behaved. Heh…”
[A soft breath—almost nostalgic]“But…
surprisingly…
or, as Dick would say—’suspiciously’…on this exact same date…
something else happened.”
[A very slight pause—almost silence on air]“Something that made this day…
bigger than belief.
Bigger than culture.Something that turned it into a day
for all of humanity.”
[Faint noise in the background—Dick shuffling things, but not interrupting]“Because…
this was the day……humanity created its first interstellar colony.
The first time we—
as a species—
didn’t just leave our planet…
we left the Sol system.We crossed into the stars.”
[She gives them a moment to take it in]“Yeah… humanity had its eyes on TRAPPIST-1 for a long time.
And when our brave AI pioneers
finally made it there…
turns out—
we weren’t wrong.Out of seven known planets…
three turned out to be potentially habitable.But…
it still took two more centuries
before a human foot actually stepped there.”
[Her voice stays soft—but now there's pride in it]“All that time…
machines were building.Stations. Domes. Infrastructure.
On three worlds:
TRAPPIST-1e…
TRAPPIST-1f…
and TRAPPIST-1g.Rock world.
Ocean world.
And the frozen one.”
[She lets out a quiet laugh]“And yeah… fun little fact Dick absolutely ‘loves’…
the system is named after the TRAPPIST telescope…
which was named after Belgian Trappist beer.So yeah.
Humanity conquered space…
and named planets after alcohol. Heh.”
[The silence lingers just a bit longer than comfortable—
you can feel it now]“ORVAL.
TRAPPIST-1e.
The capital of the system.
Endless red deserts.
Cliffs soaked in the crimson light of its star.And the so-called
‘eternal sunset line’—
a place where the sun just… stays on the horizon.Humans live there.
And not just humans anymore…Houses all face one direction—
toward that endless red edge of the world.WESTMALLE.
TRAPPIST-1f.
Resource base.
Ocean planet.
No land.
No horizon.Colonies float—
or sink—
in Hydropolises beneath the surface.Under thick clouds…
it’s always deep blue twilight.And the sound of waves…
that’s what peoples there
live with…and fall asleep to…
their entire lives.”
[Her voice cools slightly]“And the last one…
ROCHEFORT.
TRAPPIST-1g.
Scientific outpost.
And…
the system’s freezer.Ice.
Spikes.
Frozen nitrogen seas.The harshest of the three.
Cities are carved straight into the ice—
for heat.The ones who live there…
aren’t colonists.They’re survivors.
And from the sky…
you can see the other worlds—
Orval and Westmalle—
brighter than any stars.”
[Silence again—
the kind where even static seems to hold its breath]“But over the last few decades…
abandoned stations on Rochefort
have started attracting…
the wrong kind of crowd.Scammers.
Hackers.
Digital thieves…”
[Quieter now, a little tired]“…yeah.”
[Then her tone lifts again—warm, familiar, the one listeners recognize instantly]“And… over time, this day changed.
Religion… traditions…
they’re still there… somewhere in archives.But humans…
like always…
found their own way to celebrate.”
[A smile slips into her breath]“Today…
across most colonies…
and far beyond them…December twenty-fifth is basically…
the one day you can get drunk
without anyone judging you.In bars across the system—
and hundreds more—
they serve limited batches
of three types of beer…
for free.Well… almost free.
You still pay later…
you just don’t remember how.”
[A small pause—like she's picturing the chaos]“Each world has its own flavor.
On Orval—strong, metallic aftertaste.
On Westmalle—salty, ocean-fermented.
And on Rochefort…”
[Her voice dips, drier now]“…they drink whatever doesn’t freeze.
But that’s just the beginning.
Some add spices.
Some use synthetic enhancers.
Some replace alcohol entirely with neurochemistry…
but the result’s the same.”
[Her voice warms again, calmer now]“And yeah…
on this day…
humans—
and not just humans—
just gather.They drink.
They laugh.
Sometimes… they remember old stories.And they pretend…
things aren’t that bad.”
[A quiet exhale—like she lets that thought go]“Officially… it’s still Christmas.
In scientific circles, it marks
the birth of humanity’s first three worlds.But among the humans…
it’s been called something else for a long time.‘Galactic Hangover Day.'”
[Dick returns to the mic—his voice cutting straight through the atmosphere like always]“Yeah. Best damn holiday on the calendar.
Get wasted, pass out…
and nobody gives you shit.”
[A quiet chuckle—like that's the only thing in the universe he actually approves of]“Alright, baby…
let’s wrap this up.And you, dear gremlins, catch us again on
RADIO NEBULA 69.99 FTLM…
next week.Sunday by SST.”
[He leans closer to the mic—voice lower, more personal, almost conspiratorial]“And yeah… one more thing, you little gremlin bastards…
who are about to become drunk gremlin bastards…
…remember this.If you missed previous broadcasts—
the podcast’s up on our site:ihatehumans.space
Best way to listen?
Get properly hammered first.
This story…
hits better with beer.”
[He exhales, almost lazily]“See you next time.”