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Across all of Etheirys, another broadcast from the moon was being listened to. From frosty climes where an Emperor’s words once crept in the night, to cities where scholars fine-tune devices under the sunlight, the air was abuzz with a loporrit’s cheer.
‘... And that was the weather forecast for today,’ Talkingway said on the radio. ‘Etheirys sure has a way with weather, doesn’t it, listeners? In the span of a few bells, clouds zip around, rain stops, hail falls! On one side of a mountain, the sun can shine down as clearly as we can see your continents from the moon, while the other side is as opaque as carrot juice.’
In Idyllshire, sitting in front of a makeshift radio, Holepix the goblin scratched his mask absent-mindedly. ‘Carrot juice, pssshkoh…’
The goblin turned to his present company, a young Miqo’te with baby blue eyes and a lived-in bob of straw-coloured hair. ‘...Should make carrotblending juicemaker some day.’
‘A carrot juicer?’ Khloe Aliapoh brushed back the hair between her ears. ‘Why bother, mister Holepix? Adkiragh must have one already, he serves the bestest carrot juice at The Hard Place.’
Holepix shook his head. ‘Badunderstanding! Holepix needs own juicemaker! For private consumption, no moneylosing…’
The radio transmission continued: ‘Today, before we move on to our regularly scheduled show, Way to Talk, we have two very special announcements to make! While they may be more relevant to some of our listeners than to others, we hope that the messages will prove entertaining to all of you. You’ll hear more soon, right after the jingle!’
A chipper, plinky, synthetic tune played. It somehow combined nostalgia for unknowable things with a strong hope for the future.
At the Doman Enclave, two Hyur children, Shiun and Rokka of the Adventurer’s Guild, competed with Yugiri to showcase the best dance in front of their salvaged radio.
‘Welcome back, listeners! So, if you live in Thavnair, odds are you’ve had your deadline saved and your empty belly placated more than once thanks to the services of the Hippo Riders! With me today, I have the one and only head of the Hippo Riders herself, Trna!’
An applause of loporrit proportions filled the broadcast. When the noise died down, a bashful, contralto voice took its place: ‘Hi, er, hello, that’s me, Trna.’
‘Tells us a bit about yourself, Trna,’ Talkingway said.
‘Well, uhm, I’m from Vanapasti, born an’ raised, that jungle to the north o’ Thavnair. I’m an Arkasodara, which for you folk who’ve never seen one before, we’re big, bulky an’ grey, sorta like our hippos. Except we’re smarter…and our noses are bigger too.’
‘And what would you like to tell our listeners today about the Hippo Riders?’
Trna’s voice lowered to a whisper, but her microphone still picked it up. ‘Oh, do I do the speech now? Right!’ Then she switched to a booming register. ‘Folks o’ Sharlayan, are you done with your fishy bread rolls, your burgers an’ your imitation spicy foods? Are you hungry for somethin’ that ain’t come out o’ The Last Stand or some researcher’s cupboard? Well then, don’t fret! Good ol’ Trna’s Hippo Riders have what you’re looking for! We’ve partnered with, uh…the Leveilleur Estate, and, uh…Tataru’s Boutique, to bring you the freshest Thavnairian meals straight from our new kitchen in Ol' Sharlayan!’
Miladeen, the Au Ra alchemist from Radz-at-Han, happened to be visiting her former foster home in Sharlayan when she heard the broadcast. She covered her mouth in shock in front of the golden radio. ‘Lady Ameliance! Did you…?’
As Miladeen turned to face the white-haired Elezen she shared a lavish couch with, Ameliance blushed a light pink.
‘Oh,’ said Ameliance, ‘I had not considered that they would announce our partnership just so. I wanted to surprise you with a Thavnairian meal, but it seems my ploy has come undone.’ She chuckled gently.
Trna’s voice was still going strong in the transmission: ‘Sweet an’ savoury amra salad! Crispy king crab cake! Spicy hamsa curry and karniyarik! Crunchy, salty miq’abobs and silky lentil curry! We’ve got it all, down at Trna’s Hippo Riders! So come on down and give us a chance, won’t you!’
After travelling through relay after cosmic relay, the transmission swam in the floral air of the planet Auxesia. Surrounded by whirring generators and vending machines full of nutrient paste, the researcher Spina listened from her hi-spec radio.
‘I miss Thavnairian cuisine. I miss spicy food…’ Spina sighed. ‘I miss my wife.’ She stretched her shoulders, her Viera ears folding and stretching too. ‘Maybe it’s about time I head back home.’
‘Thank you very much, Trna,’ Talkingway said on the broadcast. ‘Another round of applause!’ The clapping was even more chaotic this time, as if the live audience’s hunger had distracted them.
‘And now, for our second guest, or pair of guests, I should say! It’s not every day that one can travel to the moon — we would know, by the number of visitors we receive — and much less so, to the ends of the Universe! Which is why this duo has come to us instead, to bring the news of yet another establishment opening soon!’
‘That’s right,’ the loporrit continued, ‘today we have with us two managers from the incredible, the exotic, the unique cafe at the end of the Universe, The Last Dregs!’ His voice lowered for a moment. ‘We couldn't have Jammingway or N-7000 attend, so instead we have with us Justus and Neptun, from the Karellian and Grebuloff societies of Ultima Thule!’
‘Actually,’ an even-more digitally filtered voice cut in, ‘we’re not originally from Ultima Thule, but for the time being we are based there.’
‘Ahem’, came Talkingway’s voice.
‘Ah, of course, my apologies. My name is Justus, and I am formerly a Global Citizen of Karellia.’
‘And I’m Neptun!’ The second voice was far squeakier. ‘Our home in Elysion may not be as big as our old planet, but the waters are just as clean! The sky is bright, and the fish are beautiful — and tasty!’
Hearing this, Gyodo the Namazu stopped waddling next to a red-lacquered radio for sale on the streets of Kogane Dori. Although his beady eyes slid over the features of Kugane, already he saw the promise of starlit riches instead.
‘Fish and waters? And employment at a cafe, yes yes?’ Gyodo raised a fin to his chin as he pondered. ‘There is little money for Gyodo in Kugane lately. Perhaps it is time for Gyodo to be the ijin, instead…’
So much did he ponder, standing still at the intersection, that the nearest cargo transporter tripped on the careless Namazu and dumped an entire box of liver oil on top of him.
‘Agh!’
Gyodo was not the only one to perceive a new fortune in the making.
Across two oceans and a half, where the salt and the taco sauce mixed in the breeze, Liplu the Pelupelu could hear his inner abacus clacking. He was surrounded by Turali people of all shapes, wearing clothes of all colours, but his mind was malms away as he stood next to a newly arrived radio.
‘What if we proposed a partnership between this Last Dregs place and the Turali Travel Agency?’ From inside his beak-like mask, his eyes wandered across the orange sky and setting sun. ‘Perhaps something like establishing a sister city?...’
The Karellian’s voice resumed the broadcast. ‘In any case, as Jammingway would bid us do, we are not here to go at length about our societies or origins. No, we’ve come to invite the citizens of Etheirys to Sharlayan, where they may request a permit from the local government. Once you have a permit, you may utilise the starship relay system to visit our wondrous cafe, The Last Dregs!’
Neptun took over. ‘The view won’t disappoint, it’s the most incredible thing we Grebuloff have ever seen, aside from our home planet. Too many stars to count! And the food is unbelievable too! ’
‘Indeed,’ Justus added. ‘Wildly fragrant salads, cerulean soups of the sea’s bounty and chocolate confectionery that can bring an ageless dragon to tears. Speaking of which, if you schedule a visit within the next lunar revolution, you may have an opportunity to witness the birth of the newest clutch of dragonlings in Elysion!’
Somewhere above the grey clouds and dark mountains of the Dravanian Forelands, the broadcast spilled from the pocket-sized radio Tataru had gifted Estinien. The sky islet was the preferred meeting spot for his liaison in the Churning Mists.
Hearing the news on the broadcast, Estinien smirked and turned to his interlocutor. ‘It would seem your forefathers in—’
Hraesvelgr’s roar drowned Estinien’s words. The aetheric waves boomed across the atmosphere of the star, replete with elation. Estinien’s draconic inheritance allowed him to catch the response flying in from the other ends of the star: Vrtra and Tiamat were roaring back. Estinien could imagine that Azdaja was doing her best with her tiny throat, too.
‘So,’ the transmission carried on with Justus’ voice, ‘come over to The Last Dregs and rediscover the joy and love we can all have for the universe and for each other! If even a Global Citizen such as I can find it in his heart to get along with a Freedom Fighter, surely the citizens of Etheirys can do the same!’
With an amused smile, Jullus turned off the handheld radio and stuffed it in his pocket, before leaving the station in Tertium. The winds of Garlemald were frigid, but that day, he felt as warm as the heater he left behind.
‘Justus sounds like a Garlean name,' he mumbled to no one in particular, marching through the snow. 'Global Citizens and Freedom Fighters… Garleans and Eorzeans...' With a gloved hand, he tucked in a loose strand of hair behind his ear. ‘I wonder what the view is like up there?’
Maybe one day, when things are all smoothed out, Zero and I could both go there, he thought.
On the moon, Trna shoved Neptun aside and approached the microphone of the radio station. ‘Oi, how’re my ol’ Hippo Riders supposed to compete with that pitch!?’
‘And that’s all the time we have for you today, my friends,’ Talkingway said with brisk cheerfulness. ‘Until next time, and stay tuned for our regular Way to Talk, coming right after the jingle!’