The Silly Solutions Bureau

A SciFi short

“Welcome to the Bureau, my boy,” said Brophy, from behind his sleek metal desk. It managed to be old fashioned without being out of style. “I like to think of us here at the Silly Solutions Bureau of the Galactic Remote Systems Office, as a small, efficient group, dedicated to solving problems no one else has thought of tackling. There’s a whole universe of silliness out there, waiting for our deft touch, and our diplomatic aplomb. Silliness won’t stop us, that’s our motto.”

“I’m very glad to be here, Sir,” said Narayam. “I’ve heard so much about the bureau.”

“That’s astonishing,” said Brophy. “No one’s much heard of us. Frankly, we like to keep it that way. But I see you did the Advanced Certificate in Galactic Silliness. Very impressive. That’s where you’d have heard of us, of course.”

“It is indeed, Sir,” said Narayam. “My instructors were very complimentary.”

“Very well, very well,” said Brophy, “but that’s quite enough of that. Now, I called you in because I think I might have just the case to help you get your feet wet, so to speak. A first approach to our endlessly fascinating and frustrating world of galactic silliness.”

“I’d love to get started, Sir,” said Narayam, “as soon as possible.”

“You may yet come to regret those words, my boy,” said Brophy with a smile, “but let’s see what you can do with this one.”

“I’m all ears, Sir,” said Narayam.

Brophy leaned back in his black chair and looked out at the planet spinning past the large bay window of his office on the Central Administrative Orbital Station. “You see, there is this quite small system, remote, some uncharitable souls might even say unimportant, that refuses to behave itself, so to speak. In fact, it would be an understatement to say that the problems of this one single system are vastly over-represented in the workload of this office. But there you have it. Have you heard of Arkia and Barkia, by any chance?”

“I have not, Sir,” said Narayam. “I’m terribly sorry.”

“Of course you haven’t. No one has. Except for the Arkians and the Barkians, that is. No matter,” said Brophy. “I thought perhaps in your certificate, but… At any rate… These are two planets that share an orbit in some out of the way system. Opposite each other relative to their home star, that sort of thing. Makes for some quite bad rivalries in some cases. This is one of them. The details aren’t very important. Suffice it to say that the Arkians have lately got it into their heads that they tremendously enjoy watching ice melt into water. They’ve never given it a thought before, as far as anyone can tell, and I’ve asked around, but they’re now obsessed with it. No one quite knows why. But there you have it.”

“I see,” said Narayam.

“I don’t believe you do,” said Brophy. “Not yet. But listen to this, and soon you will. There is this added complication, you see. Traditionally, the Arkians think it a very distasteful act to freeze water. They refuse to do it. They refuse to have it done on their planet, in fact.”

“Ah,” started Narayam.

“Correct,” said Brophy. “No freezing, no ice, no watching ice melt into water.” Dramatic pause. “So the Arkians turn to their traditional antipodal rivals the Barkians, and ask them to ship ice to them on some of their rather primitive space cargo ships, if I may editorialize for a moment. But that’s neither here nor there.”

“So the Barkians can freeze the water,” said Narayam, hopefully.

“My dear boy,” said Brophy, “the Barkians have no trouble whatsoever with the concept of freezing water. They can freeze water all day, which for them, happens to be quite long, in fact. Moreover, their planet is an aquatic world, more than ninety percent!”

“On the surface,” said Narayam…

“On the surface indeed,” interrupted Brophy. “Capital. But please do continue.”

“It would seem,” said Narayam, “that this would solve the problem. The Arkians can have their ice, and watch it melt.”

“So it would seem,” said Brophy, holding one finger up in the air. “It turns out, unfortunately, that the Barkians absolutely refuse to ship the ice.  Not because they don’t want the Arkians to have it. In fact, they’ve been remarkably conciliatory so far on that specific point, given their mutual history.”

“So what’s the problem,” said Narayam.

“The Barkians,” said Brophy, “categorically refuse to ship ice, because it has a slightly greater volume than its liquid parent material, water. About nine percent, depending on the impurities, or so I’m told. I’m no expert on this question.”

“Well,” said Narayam, “that sounds a bit…”

“Silly!” exclaimed Brophy. “Exactly! That’s where we come in, my dear boy. I received the file only last week, from the Insoluble Problems Directorate. We pick up their crumbs on occasion, you see. I’ve been pondering it. I’ve made a few approaches to both sides, but nothing concrete as of yet. Insoluble. I have to remember that. Happy coincidence.”

“Sir,” said Narayam, “pardon my ignorance. Why do the Barkians have a problem with the volume of ice relative to water?”

Brophy’s face darkened. “It’s very complicated. They believe that because of the increased volume of ice, shipping it is more difficult. They’re deeply insulted that the Arkians won’t receive their liquid water, which they claim is easier to ship. Even though of course, you have to heat it during transit, which on the face of it, actually makes the process quite a bit more complicated. The whole thing is very silly, not surprisingly. The Barkians are on the brink of war over it. There’s a great clamour for some immediate retaliatory action.”

“Perhaps,” said Narayam, “we could explain to the Barkians the advantages of shipping ice, or we could simply point out that the mass is invariant…”

“Very bad idea,” said Brophy. “Weights and measures. Very sensitive business in that system. They had a related incident centuries ago. Entire colonies wiped out on some of their moons. We wouldn’t wish to revisit that, would we.”

“No Sir,” said Narayam, “we wouldn’t.”

“There’s the added complication,” said Brophy, “that while Arkian and Barkian, objectively speaking, are closely related languages, the two peoples insist that they’re completely different. They refuse to speak to each other. And by some unhappy accident of linguistics, the Arkian word for mass is very similar to the Barkian word for volume. It’s a hopeless jumble. They’re positively at each other’s throats over this. No, what we need here is a properly silly solution to a properly silly problem. We need some creativity. Some fresh eyes on this situation. Which is why I thought to bring you in.”

“Thank you, Sir,” said Narayam. “Perhaps I have an idea, what if…”

“What if!” shouted Brophy, “That’s the spirit, my boy. I love the what if. This entire bureau, and its success, if I may humbly say so, is built on the universal acceptance of the possibility inherent in the what if. But please continue.”

“Well, Sir,” said Narayam, “what if we put a water freezing plant in a distant orbit around Arkia. The Barkians can ship their water. A neutral party freezes it, and Arkians can pick up the ice and bring it to their planet.”

Brophy sat back and looked into the darkness toward the distant ceiling. He put his hands together so that the tips of his fingers joined in front of his nose and his thumbs rested on his chin.

Finally he said “Neither the Barkians nor the Arkians would go for the start-up cost of building and deploying such a plant, of course. It would be frightfully expensive. Not to mention the operational costs afterwards. Positively silly, in fact.” 

His eyes lit up, ever so slightly. “But… There might be a few billion credits left in the old Galactic Silly Solutions Fund. And if we don’t use it by the end of the Galactic fiscal year, as they say, we’re liable to lose it. Such is our administrative reality, silly as it is. Spending it on this, is neither more nor less silly than spending it on something else.”

“I think it could work, Sir,” said Narayam. “It reminds me of the capstone assignment for the certificate. We proposed something quite similar to a problem that reminds me of this one.”

“Your instructors obviously prepared you well,” said Brophy. “We’d have to find a neutral party. But there could be good profit in it. I could talk to the Lucinian ambassador. They’re always looking for a new scam of some sort. I’m sure he’d call it an opportunity.”

Brophy leaned forward and manipulated the controls on his desk. “Tell you what, I’ll authorize a feasibility study immediately, out of my silly discretionary fund. You look into it, let me know how things stand in about a week, shall we say? Actually, you’d have to get a safety plan approved. Let’s make it a month.”

“Certainly, Sir,” said Narayam. “I can start right away.”

“That’s the spirit, my boy,” said Brophy. “That’s the spirit.”

Narayam rose from his seat and started walking toward the door. He hesitated and turned back.

“Sir,” he said.

“Yes,” said Brophy without looking up from his desk.

“Don’t you ever worry, Sir,” said Narayam.

Brophy looked up. “Worry about what?”

“I know that addressing silliness is our role, Sir,” said Narayam, “but don’t you ever worry that finding silly solutions to silly problems simply enables more silliness?”

“My dear boy,” said Brophy. “Sometimes to address silliness, one must use silliness. I know this problem strikes you as supremely silly now, but I can assure you, you’ve only just taken your first tentative step into the vast world of galactic silliness. There’s infinitely more silliness out there than you can imagine. But given a bit of hard work, focus, and imagination, you’ll get there, don’t worry. And as for enabling more silliness, l’ll tell you this. As long as they’re not shooting at each other, believe me, I’ll be happy to facilitate any level of silliness whatsoever, all within budgetary constraints, of course. Silliness is the price of peace.”

Narayam nodded. Brophy got up and followed him into the ante-chamber. When he had left, Brophy turned to Thea at her desk. “That young man will go far, Thea. I can feel it.”