Message from Nebulon: We come in Wi-Fi and peace. Dual-Sim citizens! Put your gadgets down.
First contact landed on an uninformed Tuesday, somewhere between Zoe's lunch roast of Quinox and the suspiciously high EPS score of broccoli. There was a moment of deliberation on whether to initiate with the four-finger wave or simply hand them a touchscreen.
Resistance wasn’t formed here; it evolved—a paradoxical suicide hotline manned by parrots equipped with spy glasses, devising an interstellar migration map to evade the menacing sequel of unsolicited phone calls.
But fret not, dear Terra-born! Don't wander aimlessly. Here lies the golden Cracker Barrel of Space Awkwardness.
"Do we conduct an audit of their axial soup spoons, or allow free utilities coordinator on the eighth day?"
— Major Schedule Overlap