Y and Where

Solarship Log: DSS Gastronomy
Date: Rebmevon 4, 9002
Crew Member: Y
Earth Date: November 4, 2009

Why is it that parents NEVER tell you the most important things?

For instance, why are my dad (that’s Commander Pollo, by the way!), his navigator Lt. Trippe, our faithful family servant Cookbot and I all speeding through outer space aboard the DooF SolarSailor Gastronomy?

And why did “noodles” make it all happen?

Well, I guess it’s up to me to provide some answers instead of just asking a bunch of questions.

First of all, I should tell you that my name is Y (big surprise, right?). I am an eleven-year-old kid if you calculate my age using the time measurement system of Planet Earth, which is where we’re headed.

Our crew is from Planet DooF — and we’re on a very important mission for our government. When my dad found the mysterious pack of “noodles,” he went to the president of our planet to request permission to go on an intergalactic expedition. Dad’s sure the “noodles” are the key to our planet’s survival, and it’s super-urgent that we figure out exactly what they are as soon as possible.

Anyway, I wasn’t at all surprised when the president said yes to the expedition.

First of all, even a kid like me can see that learning about this “cooking” and “eating” stuff will be a huge discovery for Planet DooF. So, obviously, the grownups in the government were all for it.

And second, guess who’s the president of our planet? My mom!

So here we are: on our way to Earth.

The only thing I know about the planet is that there are “noodles.” I sure hope there are kids, too!

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The Discovery of Noodles

Solarship Log: DSS Gastronomy
Date: Rebotco 92, 9002
Crew Member: Pollo
Earth Date: October 29, 2009

My journey of a million, billion, trillion miles begins with a mysterious silver packet.

In my old life as a salvage agent for the DooF Planetary Preservation & Exploration Commission, I figured the closest I’d ever come to “exploration” was roaming my usual territory just below our planet’s intrasubsolar atmosphere. The most exciting things I found back then were run-of-the-mill radiodynamic rocks, empty Gloop bottles and the occasional newspaper scrap from a nearby planet.

Then, today, the most extraordinary object drifted into my supersalvage-catcher: a small, square packet marked as “noodles.” It seemed to be produced by a planet called Earth and was filled with thin spirals of an indeterminate whitish matter. The written directions were nonsensical, ordering the recipient to “cook” and “eat.”

I would have tossed the seemingly useless packet into our planet’s official recycling bin — except for one thing. There, amidst many terms I could not understand, was a word I knew as well as my own name. In fact, it WAS my own name: Pollo.

Somewhere far beyond Planet DooF’s galaxy, someone is trying to send me a message.

The journey begins.