51 Planets to See Before the Universe Collapses

onumati (ah-noo-mah-tee)

Scort Muggins, Human Year 3271:

This whole journey had been a lot longer than I originally expected, but the catchy title is worth it. 

Now that we had enough fuel to go anywhere in the universe, I thought we should start from square one and once again look at past social posts from my father. There were a few planets that I had yet to visit, one of them being Onumati. It was a planet that my father hadn’t spent much time on, so I never thought it was worth visiting. But we were running out of leads. 

The Onumatian people lived on a single island with a massive mountain at the center. The island was surrounded by an endless ocean and was the only land above sea level across the entire planet. The Onumatians worshipped the mountain because it was their only resource. They mined it heavily for precious metals and vital elements, often while singing ancient melodies they had grown up with. [Note: If you buy the audio book, you’ll be able to hear the tunes.] The only food grew on the island and around the mountain. The only source of fresh water was from the rivers flowing down the sides. The mountain provided absolutely everything for the Onumatians. 

The typical Onumatian was no taller than 1.2 meters and had a very spherical head-body. They each had four arms around the circumference of their head-body that were all equidistant from one another. However, the arm-circumference varied from Onumatian to Onumatian. One would have arms parallel to the ground while another would have their arms perpendicular. One could have a set of arms going diagonally across their body while another could have a set going diagonally in the other direction. Each Onumatian still had two legs and feet, but their walk was more of a waddle. I assumed it was because most were improperly balanced with their heavy arms in different spots on their head-body. The waddle was flirkin’ adorable.

Some had arms medically removed if they were in places that made it difficult to walk or perform other tasks. (See Figure 46.1) It was an expensive procedure because their skin was thick and hard as a rock. I asked one Onumatian if I could touch it, but they vehemently refused. I didn’t realize what I asked was rude and inappropriate until Luskem pointed it out to me. I had to be more aware of how I was making other beings feel. 

I asked about the mountain. The locals immediately dove into an extremely long explanation of their impassioned religion. They called the mountain Bickresht and viewed it as more than a mountain. They worshipped Bickresht like a god. Two thousand human years prior, an Onumatian named Kizhu attempted to climb to the top of Bickresht, and has been the only one to do so successfully… Because Kizhu was the only one to ever return. Only a few have tried, but all of them have failed. It is said that the prophet Kizhu spoke to the mountain god Bickresht at its peak and returned to the Onumatian people to spread its teachings. 

The Onumatians preached forgiveness and tolerance - the teachings of Kizhu and Bickresht. But as an added rule, Kizhu also said that anyone who did not worship the mountain god Bickresht would be cursed with a gruesome, agonizing, icy, eternal afterlife as well as their future family bloodline. Not exactly forgiving and tolerant. 

Their religion had a few contradictions like this. For example, they emphasized loving one another and held life-binding ceremonies for the customary three way relationships. But Onumatians are shunned if they are ever involved in a four way relationship. To Luskem, Pleeft, toast-bot, and I, a four way relationship meant there was more love to go around. To the Onumatians, it was blasphemous and cause for exile. To be exiled was to be forcefully put on a boat and cast out to sea. It wasn’t exactly an execution, but they would only meet endless water. Every Onumatian knew that those that were exiled would never be seen again. It meant certain death. And a wasted boat. 

The deal was that Bickresht would provide its resources to the Onumatian people as long as they followed its strict rules of behavior and worship - including an annual sacrifice. 

Onumati’s rotation around its star was 28 times faster than Earth’s rotation around the sun. [Note: Earth’s rotation around the sun has always been the standard measurement of a human year.] That meant 28 sacrifices in a human year. A lot of sacrifices. So it wasn’t unusual that we happened to land on the planet when one was about to take place. 

With a population of 152,000 Onumatians, the largest town on the planet always held the event, though it was televised for the entire island. Thousands of Onumatians gathered in the town square to watch the sacrifice in person. Performers sang as part of a pre-sacrifice show and were projected on massive screens for the whole audience to see. All of the groups sang a cappella, which wasn’t as cute as they thought it was. One Onumatian performed stand-up comedy. In our opinion, they totally bombed, but the crowd loved it. Onumatian humor wasn’t for us.

A large countdown timer took up the entirety of the stage background. The end was near and the performers left the stage. A golden table rose up at the center. A team of Onumatians in robes entered from all sides of the stage and surrounded the table. The robes were all a gross paisley pattern. I hated paisley. The last robed Onumatian to enter led a scared, naked Onumatian to the golden table. They laid the being on the table and held it down. A thick golden post the same width and depth of the golden table slowly lowered from the ceiling. The table and post created a terrifying, but beautiful, golden press. Since an Onumatian’s skin was so thick, it was hard to pierce, and instead, the sacrifice had to be crushed. 

The robed Onumatians chanted, and the audience joined in. There was still some time on the clock, and my conscience was telling me I had to intervene. I couldn’t run away from responsibility like I always do. I had to stop the sacrifice. I had to save the being. I had to tell the Onumatian people that their religion was a fallacy. There was no god. There was no afterlife. There was only nothing. 

“Where are you going?” Pleeft asked as I ran to the stage. 

“They need to know!” I yelled back. 

I jumped over the security fence surrounding the stage. The fence was short because Onumatians weren’t tall and lacked average parkour ability. I got on the stage and grabbed a microphone from one of the robed chanters. 

“Stop! You can’t keep killing your own people. You’re following rules that were written thousands of years ago by someone who probably lied about climbing to the top of Bikresht in the first place. Can’t you see that Kizhu made it all up? I’m sure it was well intentioned. I’m sure Kizhu just wanted everyone to respect each other and have morals, but Kizhu definitely took a few too many liberties along the way. If another Onumatian came down from Bikresht right now and claimed to have spoken to the mountain god, everyone would think they’re a raving lunatic, rambling a bunch of nonsense. You wouldn’t believe them. No one would. You don’t have to sacrifice this Onumatian. Please! Let the clock run down and save this poor being. You won’t be punished!”

I could see on their faces that they understood. But I was still taken off stage by some security guards, and the paisley-robed flirks continued the ceremony. At least I had been distraction enough because the sacrificial Onumatian was no longer held down, and right as the press was about to squish it, it got off the table. The press crushed nothing. The naked would-be-sacrifice shouted something emotional to the crowd, but nobody heard its words without a microphone. I imagined it thanked me for my wise interjection and demanded that it shall not be put to death for a false belief system. Right on. 

The crowd watched the countdown tick to the end while I waited on the sidelines, still restrained by the guards. Obviously, nothing happened. All of the Onumatians looked at each other, confused, wondering what it all meant. Their entire religion had been disproven right in front of their eyes - a religion they had believed since birth, murdering thousands of innocent beings simply because they were following made up rules. I didn’t know what they were feeling. Hopefully between the mixture of guilt, embarrassment, anger, and confusion there was some relief. They had the truth. 

The ground began to shake. Violently. A deafening blast came from above. Rocks descended from the sky and pummeled the crowd. A boulder crushed the liberated sacrifice and went straight through the stage. Onumatians screamed, panicking and running in fear. The guards let go of me amid the chaos. 

I didn’t want to be blamed for this inconvenient, coincidental seismic activity, so I grabbed Luskem and Pleeft and we ran for the ship. Balls of fire rained down from the sky and killed hundreds of Onumatians below. We took off right as rivers of lava streamed down from Bickresht and melted any of the Onumatians in their path. They never told us that Bickresht was a volcano. Maybe they didn’t know. The top of Bickresht was hidden by the clouds. 

I thought to myself that Kizhu may have indeed made it to the top of the mountain two thousand years ago and inhaled enough sulfur dioxide to trip flirkin’ balls and invent a religion. 

As we flew away in the ship, we saw the island engulfed in flames. I hoped that some of the Onumatians would survive, but they may have been too heavy to swim. Some of them would take the exile boats away from the island and return when the lava had cooled. I was sure of it. But because of this incredibly awful timing, the Onumatians would always be convinced that Bickresht was indeed a god and an extremely vengeful god at that. There would be no changing their minds after this. 

It seems that even when I try to do something good… I only destroy. 

...buuuuuuuut this really wasn’t my fault. 

RATINGS

Hospitality — 7/10
Food — 6/10
Sights — 4/10
Activities — 2/10
Family Friendly — 1/10
Pre-Sacrificial Performances — 3/10