Space Opera (Space Opera, #1)

by Catherynne M. Valente

The story of the galaxy is the story of a single person in it. A cover version, overproduced, remastered, with the volume cranked up way past eleven and into the infinite. Or at least it’s the story of Decibel Jones and the Sudden and Conspicuous Conquest of Earth by Space Flamingos.

And quite frankly, Mr. Rogers notwithstanding, you’re a mess. I mean, honestly. You just made the argument for the survival of your species and you didn’t even mention a single female, except, presumably, half the condors. I don’t know why you would even bring up the Internet.

Yes, of course, you’ve done some clever things with your time. No one is denying that rhythmic gymnastics are really just terrific.

Somewhere on Earth is an insect that excretes a golden antibacterial ooze that also does a splendid job sweetening your tea; a terribly picturesque tree whose bark will fix your malaria right up; and a large four-legged, two-horned mammal whose reproductive system dispenses ice cream, brie, and buttercream frosting.