Lucas Scifi (87)

Episode VII: A New Hope for the Dead

In a previous Substack, I let AI flesh out a sci-fi story in the voice of Kurt Vonnegut (1922-2007). It deals with a culture war between recyclers and buriers, and Vonnegut doesn't take sides directly—true to form, he presents both philosophies as equally absurd manifestations of human folly, treating the cosmic conflict with his characteristic fatalistic shrug from Slaughterhouse-Five (1969) and Cat's Cradle (1963). "So it goes," whether you're feeding corpses to black holes or converting them into garden fertilizer.

I then got interested in how different literary voices would approach the same philosophical divide and asked AI to rewrite the story in various styles. The results revealed fascinating ideological patterns.

George Lucas's voice (born 1944, Star Wars 1977-2019) naturally sides with the recyclers as rebels fighting an evil Empire of disposal. In the Star Wars universe, the Force flows through all things, connecting every atom in an eternal cycle of transformation—making the Jedi Recyclers the obvious heroes opposing the dark side's obsession with permanent endings. The Clint Eastwood adaptation (born 1930, The Good, The Bad and The Ugly 1966, Unforgiven 1992) takes a similar stance, though for different reasons: his weathered anti-hero sees recycling as giving everything "a second chance," which aligns with the Western genre's themes of redemption and renewal.

For a more balanced philosophical view, I tried Frank Herbert's voice (1920-1986, Dune 1965, Dune Messiah 1969). The author's complex worldview treats both recycling and disposal as competing religious philosophies within larger cosmic patterns. His version explores the deep ecology of matter and consciousness without clearly favoring either side—though it leans toward the mystical interconnectedness that recycling represents.

But in searching for literary support of the burial culture—those who believe in permanent disposal via black holes—I finally found my champion in Thomas Bernhard (1931-1989, Correction 1975, The Loser 1983, Woodcutters 1984). The Austrian master of literary misanthropy would absolutely side with the disposal faction, seeing their commitment to final endings as the only honest response to the accumulated stupidity of existence. For Bernhard, recycling represents humanity's pathological inability to accept termination, while black hole disposal offers the universe's most efficient waste management system.

It's telling that the disposal philosophy required such a pessimistic voice to find its advocate. Most narrative traditions favor transformation over termination, hope over finality. Only an author who viewed existence itself as a mistake would champion the cosmic garbage disposal of black holes over the eternal optimism of universal recycling.

Episode VII: A New Hope for the Dead

OPENING CRAWL

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...

The GALACTIC RECYCLING REPUBLIC has been locked in bitter conflict with the evil FINAL DISPOSAL EMPIRE for over a thousand years. While the Republic believes in the sacred transformation of organic matter, the Empire worships the dark power of black holes—cosmic destroyers that erase matter from existence forever.

As the Empire prepares to feed one billion preserved souls to the dreaded BLACK HOLE OMEGA-7, a small band of Republic heroes races across the stars to intercept this crime against the natural order.

Unknown to both sides, an ancient evil stirs in the depths of space—and the fate of every atom in the galaxy hangs in the balance...

---

Chapter 1: The Jedi Recycler

Master Dwayne Kenobi-Constant stood on the observation deck of the Republic Cruiser Everything Is Everything, his weathered hands clasped behind his back as he gazed into the swirling hyperspace tunnel. The Force flowed through him like a river of cosmic awareness, and in its current he sensed the approaching disturbance.

"Master," said his young Padawan, Unk Skywalker-9, approaching with the eager stride of youth. "The Council's message has arrived. One billion souls are in danger."

Dwayne nodded slowly. At sixty-seven, he had seen too many tragedies caused by the Empire's obsession with permanent disposal. "The Dark Side clouds everything, young Padawan. But death is not the end—only transformation into something greater."

He turned to face the Martian youth, his eyes holding the wisdom of a thousand recycling missions. "What does the Force tell you about matter, Unk?"

The Padawan closed his eyes, reaching out with his feelings as his Master had taught him. "I sense... patterns, Master. Every atom connected to every other atom. Nothing truly dies—it only changes form."

"Good," Dwayne smiled. "You are learning to see through the Empire's lies. They would have you believe that black holes offer peace, but they offer only oblivion. We serve the Living Force—the endless cycle of transformation that connects all things."

Their meditation was interrupted by the ship's droid, R2-EPICAC, rolling onto the bridge with urgent beeps and whistles.

"What is it, R2?" Unk asked.

The droid projected a hologram of a massive Imperial transport ship. Through the Force, Dwayne could sense the billion sleeping souls aboard—each one a galaxy of potential being fed to the cosmic void.

"The Inevitable Consequence," he murmured. "Captain Pilgrim-Smith is a good man, but he serves the wrong master."

Chapter 2: The Imperial Captain

Captain Billy Pilgrim-Solo stood in the command center of his Star Destroyer, watching the hyperspace swirls through the forward viewport. Thirty-seven years of service to the Final Disposal Empire had taught him to follow orders without question, but lately, doubts had begun to creep into his thoughts like moisture into machinery.

"Sir," came the voice of his first officer, Valencia Chewbacca-Trout—a fierce Wookiee engineer whose loyalty was absolute. "The cargo remains secure. One billion units ready for ceremonial disposal."

Billy nodded, but something in the Force whispered that this mission would be different. He had never been trained as a Jedi—the Empire had purged them all decades ago—but sometimes he felt... things. Premonitions. Warnings.

"Chewie," he said, using her nickname, "do you ever wonder if there might be another way?"

The Wookiee's growl was thoughtful. In her language, she was saying that the dead deserved peace, but Billy's rusty Shyriiwook only caught fragments of meaning.

Their conversation was cut short by the proximity alarms. Through the Force—though he didn't know to call it that—Billy felt the approaching presence of something powerful. Something that burned with righteous purpose.

"Imperial ships," announced Lieutenant Eliot Rosewater-Antilles from the sensor station. "No—wait. Republic vessels. Big ones."

On the main screen, the Everything Is Everything dropped out of hyperspace like a mechanical moon bristling with purpose. It was followed by a squadron of X-wing Recyclers, their solar panels gleaming in the starlight.

"This is Master Dwayne Kenobi-Constant of the Jedi Recycling Order," came the transmission. "Imperial vessel, you are committing crimes against the natural order. Surrender your cargo and no harm will come to you."

Billy felt the familiar weight of Imperial duty pressing down on him. But somewhere deep inside, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father whispered: Maybe it's time to choose the right side.

Chapter 3: The Boarding Party

The assault began with surgical precision. Republic boarding pods—shaped like seeds to honor the cycle of growth—attached themselves to the Imperial ship's hull. From each pod emerged a team of Jedi Recyclers, their lightsabers humming with green energy that could cut through metal but preserve organic matter.

Unk Skywalker-9 was among the first to board, his newly constructed lightsaber feeling awkward in his grip. Behind him came Commander Constant-Prime, a clone trooper whose armor was decorated with symbols of renewal and transformation.

"Remember," Master Dwayne's voice crackled through their comm units, "we are not here to destroy. We serve life, in all its forms."

The Imperial stormtroopers who opposed them fought with the desperation of those who believed in permanent endings. Their armor was black as the void, their weapons designed to disintegrate rather than stun. But the Force guided the Jedi Recyclers' movements, and their green lightsabers deflected the deadly blasts back at their attackers.

Unk found himself face-to-face with an Imperial officer in the ship's main corridor. The man's hand moved toward his blaster, but something in the young Jedi's presence made him hesitate.

"I don't want to fight you," Unk said, his lightsaber held in a defensive position. "The Force flows through all living things. Even you."

The officer's eyes widened. "You're... you're one of them. A Jedi."

"I serve the Living Force," Unk replied. "And the Force tells me you have doubts about your mission."

For a moment, the corridor was silent except for the distant sounds of battle. Then the officer slowly raised his hands in surrender.

Chapter 4: The Dark Lord's Revelation

Deep in the ship's secure levels, past the sleeping cargo holds, lay a chamber that few aboard the Inevitable Consequence had ever seen. Here, in meditation, sat the true power behind the Final Disposal Empire: Darth Hoover, Dark Lord of the Sith.

His breathing was mechanical, assisted by the life-support systems that kept his recycled body functioning. Years ago, during the Clone Wars, he had been Master Dwayne's apprentice. But the dark side had seduced him with promises of power over death itself.

"Master," he said to the holographic image that flickered before him, "the Republic dogs have found us."

The image was of Emperor Vonnegut, ancient and terrible, his face a map of cosmic malice. "Good," the Emperor hissed. "Let them come. They will witness the ultimate power of the dark side—the ability to make things not just dead, but ungone."

"What are your orders, my Master?"

"Proceed to Omega-7 as planned. The black hole awaits its feast. And if the Jedi wish to join their precious organic matter in oblivion... so much the better."

Darth Hoover rose from his meditation chamber, his cape flowing behind him like liquid darkness. The time had come to face his old Master one final time.

Chapter 5: Lightsaber Duel in the Cargo Bay

The confrontation came in the ship's main cargo bay, among the crystalline coffins of a billion souls. Master Dwayne ignited his blue lightsaber as his former apprentice emerged from the shadows, red blade humming with Sith malevolence.

"Hello, old friend," Darth Hoover said, his voice distorted by the breathing apparatus. "I wondered when you would come to save these... things."

"They are not things, Hoover," Dwayne replied sadly. "They are part of the Force—the same Force that flows through you, though you deny it."

"The Force?" Hoover laughed, a sound like grinding metal. "I have transcended such primitive beliefs. I serve a power greater than your pathetic recycling philosophy—the power to end things permanently."

Their lightsabers met in a shower of sparks, blue and red energy crackling against each other in the ancient dance of Jedi and Sith. Around them, the preserved dead seemed to watch with frozen eyes, waiting to see which philosophy would determine their ultimate fate.

"You were the best of us," Dwayne said as they fought, his blade weaving defensive patterns. "But fear led you to the dark side. Fear of endings."

"I don't fear endings!" Hoover snarled, pressing his attack. "I create them!"

"No," Dwayne replied, suddenly dropping his guard. "You fear them so much that you try to make them absolute. But there are no absolute endings, my old friend. Only transformations."

For a moment, something human flickered in Darth Hoover's mechanical breathing. Then he raised his lightsaber for the killing blow.

Chapter 6: The Death Star's Weakness

The red lightsaber descended—and passed through empty air. Master Dwayne had become one with the Force, his physical form disappearing even as his voice echoed through the cargo bay: "Remember, Unk—the Force will be with you. Always."

Young Skywalker-9, who had arrived just in time to witness his Master's sacrifice, felt the grief and rage building inside him. His hand moved to his lightsaber, but Valencia Chewbacca-Trout's massive paw stopped him.

Her Wookiee growl was gentle but firm: Not like this. That leads to the dark side.

Meanwhile, Captain Pilgrim-Solo found himself standing at a crossroads. His ship was compromised, his cargo threatened, and his orders clear. But watching the Jedi Master's sacrifice had awakened something in him—a memory of choice, of the possibility that there might be another way.

"Chewie," he said to his first officer, "what if the Empire is wrong? What if death isn't the end?"

Before she could answer, the ship's navigation systems began to malfunction. Deep in the recycling holds, something had gone wrong with the processing of one of the corpses. A primitive device—an ancient Earth communication tool—had interfaced with the ship's computers.

"Sir," called Lieutenant Rosewater-Antilles, "we're losing navigational control. The autopilot has engaged, and it's plotting a course directly into Black Hole Omega-7."

The irony was not lost on anyone present. In trying to save the billion souls from the black hole, the Republic forces had ensured that everyone—living and dead—would share the same fate.

Chapter 7: The Trench Run

As both ships tumbled toward the event horizon of Omega-7, Master Dwayne's spirit appeared to young Unk, shimmering in the blue glow of Force-light.

"Use the Force, Unk," the spirit said. "Feel the connection between all things. The black hole is not an ending—it's a transformation. Trust in the Living Force."

Unk closed his eyes, reaching out with his feelings as he had been taught. Through the Force, he could sense the vast network of connections that bound the universe together—every atom linked to every other atom, every death leading to new life, every ending becoming a beginning.

"I can feel it, Master," he whispered. "The black hole... it's not destroying anything. It's... changing it. Into something else."

Around them, the ship's crew—Imperial and Republic alike—prepared for what they believed would be their final moments. But those sensitive to the Force began to understand that they were witnessing something unprecedented: the universe's own recycling protocol in action.

Captain Pilgrim-Solo, his Imperial conditioning finally broken, took Valencia's massive paw in his hand. "Chewie," he said, "I think we're about to become part of something bigger than ourselves."

Even Darth Hoover, standing among the billion coffins, felt something shifting in his understanding. The dark side had promised him power over death, but now he saw that death had power over everything—even Sith Lords.

Chapter 8: A New Hope

The transition, when it came, was not the violent destruction that primitive minds expected. Instead, it was a gentle dissolution—a return to the quantum foam from which all matter had emerged at the universe's birth.

As they crossed the event horizon, the patterns that had been Unk Skywalker-9 and Captain Pilgrim-Solo and Master Dwayne and even Darth Hoover merged with the vast information matrix encoded in space-time itself. Their individual stories became part of the Force's eternal memory, preserved in the cosmic background radiation that whispered throughout the galaxy.

But this was not an ending. Through the Force, they understood the truth that both Empire and Republic had glimpsed but never grasped: every black hole was a cosmic egg, pregnant with the potential for new universes. Every event horizon was a birth canal through which reality passed from one iteration to the next.

The billion souls they had fought to save became the seeds of new galaxies, their organic patterns encoded in the quantum structure of nascent space-time. Death and life, Empire and Republic, Jedi and Sith—all were part of the same cosmic cycle, the breathing of reality itself.

Epilogue: Return of the Jedi

In the deep future, when Omega-7 had grown large enough to begin its own reproductive cycle, the patterns preserved in its event horizon would seed new universes with the memory of old conflicts. Somewhere in the quantum foam of possibility, new Empires would arise to oppose new Republics, new Sith would challenge new Jedi.

But the lesson learned in those final moments would endure: the Force flows through all things, binding the galaxy together in an endless cycle of transformation. What appears to be an ending is always a beginning. What seems like death is always rebirth.

Young Luke Skywalker-9, now one with the Force but still retaining his individual pattern, appeared to future generations of Jedi as a shimmering blue spirit. His message was always the same:

"The Force will be with you. Always. In every atom, every star, every black hole. Nothing is ever truly lost—only transformed into something greater."

And in the cosmic cantina where all stories eventually gather, the conversation between light and dark, order and chaos, recycling and disposal, continued across the ages—not as a conflict to be won, but as a dialogue to be sustained.

For in the end, both sides served the same master: the Living Force that flows through all things, connecting every ending to every beginning, every death to every birth, every goodbye to every hello.

The circle is now complete.

May the Force be with you.

THE END

Lucas