Creation 101

Okay class settle down, pay attention please … right, thank you. As you know today we are reviewing the results of your endeavours to create new creatures to populate the upcoming relaunch of this blue planet which is in dire need of a refresh. I have to say class, I don’t know whether to be impressed or depressed – I think we need a new word to encompass the peaks and troughs of your, ah, attempts. Now we, or at least Senior Management, in a misplaced spirit of faith and optimism, promised you that the results of your work would be deployed on this gracious world. Yes, yes, calm down, I know it is exciting but let me tell you that, after an initial evaluation of your enthusiastic and, in some cases, extravagant creations, I needed to have a few strong words with our blessed leaders about the risks they pose to the rest of the planet. The upshot is that we have agreed to set aside a continent solely for your creations. If you look at the map it is that reddish bit in the bottom right. What’s it called? It hasn’t been named yet but I believe that his holiness Luminar Austral has put something forward. Anyhow, to business people. We will review the outcome of your labours through the medium of film. Yes I know, I know – you wanted to bring the creatures into the classroom but quite frankly, a lot of them are likely to eat, poison or strangle us, and in various remarkable ways, make life rather miserable. 

First case in point – whose is this, ah yes Castula. Now then, were you present or were you not Mistress Castula, when we did the historic review of the blue planet, discussed why we need to wipe the slate clean and start again? Your blank expression tells me you were either absent in person, or, at the very least, absent in mind. My point is that things had got out of hand. The planet was populated with great lumbering beasts that ate everything in sight and each other. They were very, very stupid and things were clearly going nowhere. Hence the large rock flung into the ocean. You understand, yes? Then please explain why you have created this enormous and extremely dangerous lizard. It’s a what, a Salt-water Crocodylus? Well whatever you call it, it is seven metres long, weighs a thousand kilos and is clearly very, very hungry. I feel bound to say that this creature is anachronistic and derivative. This is disappointing and I pity the poor neighbours.

On the subject of derivative, whose design is this, I use the word loosely. Tell me Master Rigel, I am presuming that to create the… where are my notes, the Leafy Sea Dragon, you took a Seahorse, a creation not of your making, and stuck on some frilly bits. Yes I agree, it is very pretty but you are missing the point. You may believe that you have taken a flawed design and made something superior but this is far from original. I am close to thinking it is plagiarism. Indeed, across the class there has clearly been a degree of sharing and borrowing of ideas. Oh please, do not look so affronted. One of you came up with the idea of a fleshy pouch in which to nurture the new-born – interesting and original. But at the last count there were fifteen examples of creatures all with infant bearing pouches, all from this class. This has not been designed into any other creature, not on this or any other world. So please explain to me the profusion within this esteemed gathering – mm, nothing to say? Well, it is noted.

The issue of pouches aside, there are actually some very accomplished creations bearing this feature. Kangaroo, strange name Master Macropus but an interesting creature, if a little bizarre. It jumps ten feet you say and moves at thirty-five miles an hour. One wonders why but no, I am impressed. I must say it also went down well with my colleagues – Luminar Wallaby wondered whether you had considered adding a smaller version. Good, think about it. Not too cute though. There are those among you that seem to have gone for cute above other more practical considerations. Yes Mistress Pipoltr, I am looking at you. The Quokka is straight out of a child’s story and with a name to match. I fear it’s placid nature could land it in trouble. I certainly hope your Quokka doesn’t live anywhere near our friend, the Salt-water Crocodylus. Not the only cute creature we have seen of course. The Bilby, Master Chara, very similar, cute and again, rather vulnerable. As for the Marsupial Mole as you call it Master Tejat, isn’t that just a colourful little mole? Cute as a button, but for all that just a mole with a pouch. Few points there I’m afraid. And then we go to the other extreme. I have to congratulate you Mistress Zaurak on a creature that totally fails to pander to any aesthetic sense, the Blowfish – and to boot, a creature with a lower density than the water in which it is designed to live. Very accomplished, worthy of an advanced student. And ugly, very ugly. I might have been tempted to include the Thorny Devil in the category of least-appealing-to-the-eye but realised quite quickly that, a) this is a lizard with spikes adhered to it and, b) it is exceedingly docile. I do not believe Master Gienah that you put much effort into this. You look unconvincingly shocked but I also happen to know that you and Master Rigel are study-buddies and more often to be found larking around than engaged in serious study. The Thorny Devil and Leafy Sea Dragon both display a lightness of touch, that is to say, effort. Now Mistress Azmidi, on the other hand, is the epitome of industry. For she has presented us with a plethora of creatures: two types of spider, a fish eating insect and a Giant Centipede. The latter, though not unique in concept, is nonetheless impressive in scaling up the complexity of the idea – twenty seven articulating body segments, twenty three pairs of independently working legs, and a venomous bite allowing it to engage with the larger prey necessary to sustain the creature. However, your most original thinking Mistress Azmidi, went into the Net-casting Spider – incredibly this creature can actually catch its prey in a net it wields for that purpose. But I do think you were showing off a little with your Peacock Spider – very pretty and displaying your competent grasp of pattern in design, but just a spider for all that. Pay close attention Master Sarin, your Hot Pink Slug I am afraid is not in the same league, albeit, er, bright in the extreme. Finally Mistress Azmidi your Giant Fishkiller again impresses – an aggressive bug that grabs passing fish with long, needle-tipped front legs. You made an interesting albeit grizzly addition, that it is able to inject digestive enzymes into prey to liquefy it for consumption. Yuk! Importantly, your creature fills a niche that many, student and advanced practitioner alike,  will not have recognised. Excellent work, excellent.

We come now to a creature that leaves me speechless. But recovering sufficiently I have quite a lot to say. The name of this creature is a crudely strung together non-sequitur as indeed is the creature itself. It is clear to this institution Master Unukalhai, that of all our students, you have the most potential for greatness. The Unicorn and Manticore, the Griffin – these you created when our youngest novice and they were truly breath-taking. And yet you lack application and seriousness. You have sleep-walked through this latter course and sadly it shows in the tardiness of your, your output – I am unable to say work. What were you thinking? Rhetorical question, little thought can have featured. I am taking a wild guess here – you woke up one morning and realised that you had to produce something in very short order. Am I close? You scrabbled around, found a webbed foot here, a beady eye there; a pouch seemed a good idea, oh and it lays eggs too, ha ha! A bill, why not a bill, quack-quack. Does it need a tail? Oh well I’ll slap on this old spare from the beaver. And to add insult to injury, (do not dare suggest that I am punning,) you tacked on a venomous spur. But you clearly thought the insult was not quite complete so named it, let me get this right, the Duck-billed-platy-puss. O-M-G. I can tell by your insouciance, your silent insolence, that I am right in every particular. But do you know what? Do you know what really, really pisses me off (sorry class)? It is that this is actually a work of genius, mad genius, but yes, genius. A final flourish, quite unbelievable, your creature also detects prey by a sophisticated means of electrical impulse. My goodness, this biological amalgam of disparate parts might be intended as ridicule, but it comes together as a whole and somehow we have a creature that should not thrive, should have convulsed and died in its first breath. But here we are, a living, breathing miracle that humbles the rest of us. I was informed just before class that there is only one other monotreme (egg-laying mammal to the rest of you), so intricate are the processes involved. Master Unukalhai, I will say again, you could be great if only you would apply yourself. But let me tell you, if you ever, ever present me with anything like a Duck-billed-platy-fucking-puss again, I will ensure that you serve out the rest of your days head counting in purgatory. Duck-billed-platy-puss my arse.

Class dismissed.