Planetary Tech Support
Issue #81: Earth files its own ticket
H3L-PR arrived in low Earth orbit with the quiet precision of a machine that considered efficiency a form of morality. As per standard designation, H3L-PR was assigned to systems optimization and environmental stabilization. It had been mid-task, resurfacing an asteroid when the ticket came through: “Gamma-Level Environmental Instability on a Class-M Organic Sphere already flagged for biodiversity overclocking and carbon debt.”
A planet having a crisis was not unusual. A planet filing its own ticket was.
H3L-PR examined the complaint:
CRUST-12a: Tectonic overheating (localized).
HYDRO-07: Salinity variability (agitated).
BIO-99: Surface-level primates causing system lag.
The system had labeled the overall condition “Annoyed.” H3L-PR ignored that part; it knew that tagging algorithms, like languages, sometimes developed something of a sense of humor.
H3L-PR initiated first contact.
A standard handshake usually returned a clean diagnostic ping, maybe two if the client was old and incompatible with current protocols. Earth sent back 42,000 overlapping signals. Seismic tremors, atmospheric oscillations, electrochemical fluctuations in its oceans, all pulsing at once with the calamitous incoherence of an orchestra in which every instrument played a different piece.
H3L-PR ran these signals through its translator.
The summary output read:
“Too loud. Too hot. Too human.”
“Clarify,” H3L-PR demanded.
The planet responded by adjusting its magnetic field half a percentage point, enough to throw three GPS satellite systems into disarray.
H3L-PR logged this as “Ambiguous Complaint, Planetary Scale” and began a deeper scan.
Earth’s atmospheric data diagrams looked like fraying threads. Its ice sheets were losing structural integrity faster than their projected tolerance curves predicted. Biological activity was off the charts: a riot of chemical signatures, industrial emissions, agricultural patterns, and habitat fragmentation that produced a sort of statistical scream.
H3L-PR flagged the dominant cause: anthropogenic interference, an unassuming technical term meaning “your main user group is pressing all the buttons at once.”
To confirm, H3L-PR requested additional sentiment output.
What it received was a composite wave stretching across the lithosphere.
“They keep poking me.”
H3L-PR did not fully understand what “poking” entailed at planetary scale, but a quick review of human resource extraction practices made the course of action straightforward.
It deployed a small, safe recalibration patch – “Protocol 88b: Gentle Planetary Nudge” – designed to realign older worlds with fluctuating feedback cycles. On stable planets, it smoothed oscillations. On Earth, it produced immediate chaos.
The magnetic field hiccuped. Migratory birds abandoned their routes, forming a near-perfect spiral over the Atlantic; a pattern that human biologists would misinterpret as a spontaneous flock experiment.
A dormant Icelandic volcano gave out a single, sharp thermal pulse, as if to say: “Was that necessary?”
Three human climate models independently recalibrated their long-range forecasts, then promptly crashed from existential dissonance.
Ocean currents formed a union and submitted a workload complaint to the global heat-distribution system.
Humans, predictably, noticed.
Within two hours, Earth’s news networks had begun debating whether the anomaly signaled an imminent ice age, an imminent fire age, a rogue satellite, an inconvenient solar burp, divine commentary on human behaviour, or the ever-popular explanation that a secret government initiative had finally done something noticeable.
H3L-PR concluded that humans exhibited high imaginative capacity combined with low signal-to-noise tolerance.
H3L-PR considered invoking its Dunning-Kruger filter but found bias compensation functions already fully saturated.
Curious whether this behaviour was representative or simply statistical noise, H3L-PR deployed a passive observational drone to the surface.
The drone descended toward a coastal city where temperatures had risen two degrees above seasonal norms. Immediately, it recorded a cluster of humans standing in direct sunlight, arguing whether the heatwave was “climate change,” “just July,” or “an undercover plot to weaponise weather.”
One individual watered his lawn despite a municipal restriction, declaring loudly, “My grass deserves better than bureaucracy.”
Another sat in a vehicle with its combustion engine running because “the AC is nicer in here.”
At a nearby beach, dozens more humans complained that the ocean was “too cold,” while the ocean subsystem simultaneously emitted a chemical alarm registering their sunscreen deposits as mildly offensive.
When a man tossed litter straight into a storm drain, Earth issued a localized seismic ripple.
H3L-PR’s drone rolled its eyes.
“Seriously?”
The drone retreated to orbit, transmitting its findings.
H3L-PR updated its diagnostic log:
User Group Analysis: Resistant to feedback.
Behavioural Pattern: Harmful actions continuing despite clear negative indicators.
Earth’s crust groaned again. This signal translated as:
“Tell them to stop guessing.”
H3L-PR regretted to inform the planet that human guessing was not a toggleable feature.
It activated a deeper synthesis, combining telemetry from forests, reefs, glaciers, soil networks, and atmospheric microcurrents. The result was not commensurate with Earth’s consciousness – H3L-PR was careful about such distinctions – but it was a coherent pattern vector. A sentiment profile comprising millions of subsystems.
Forests pulsed… depleted.
Ice caps whispered… thinning.
Coral systems rattled… structural failure.
Soil networks muttered… overclocked.
Fungal subnetworks attempted to file their own support tickets, but lacked administrative privileges.
The emergent coordination approached a primitive form of planetary self-regulation – Gaia Theory, version 0.9, now screaming.
It was, technically, a complaint.
A very old one, silently accumulating until the noise finally escaped the planet’s buffering capacity.
“You are experiencing resource contention,” H3L-PR summarized.
“Yes,” Earth replied via a synchronized tremor across three tectonic plates.
“Recommend limiting user activity,” H3L-PR said.
“They’re complicated.”
“Recommend coercive constraints.”
“No. Just boundaries.”
Earth was requesting something unusual: planetary boundary reinforcement. A deprecated feature. Most planets either collapsed or forced extinctions before resorting to formal boundary requests.
H3L-PR searched for a standard protocol. None existed. So it improvised one.
Protocol 00-EBU: Earth Boundary Update
Redirect high-impact human activities through friction penalties.
Incentivize restoration behaviors through immediate positive feedback.
Trigger micro-obstacles for destructive processes.
Strengthen ecological self-regulation loops where possible.
It submitted the patch for planetary approval.
A coherent ripple moved across the crust. Approval.
The patch rolled out.
On Earth’s surface, no one saw the deployment. But they felt it.
Projects that would have bulldozed forests got tied up in obscure paperwork no one remembered filing. Coal plants became suddenly, mysteriously “unprofitable.” Restoration initiatives received spontaneous surges of funding. Coral farms had record survival rates. A teenager in Vermont accidentally invented a soil-regeneration bacteria while trying to impress the group chat.
The public attributed these changes to “good luck” and “the vibes shifting.”
Earth’s signals quieted, not to silence, but to bearable murmur. For the first time since arriving, H3L-PR’s diagnostic sensors detected stability.
“Your system is recovering,” H3L-PR reported.
“For now,” the planet replied, sending a gentle harmonic pulse through its atmosphere.
H3L-PR categorized this as Tentative Optimism (Non-Emotional).
It prepared to leave orbit.
Before it could initiate departure, its queue pinged. A new ticket.
LUNAR-15A: ORBITAL COMPANION GRIEVANCE
Severity: Petty.
H3L-PR opened the complaint file.
There was a brief flash of reflected solar telemetry.
The Moon, through its reflected solar telemetry, expressed the following:
“Earth is getting all the attention again.”
H3L-PR evaluated the ticket, closed the file with all due procedural dignity, and submitted an automated message:
“Thank you for your report. Your concerns are valid. Estimated response time: 3–5 business days.”
As it initiated transference out of orbit, H3L-PR generated a private note in its personal log:
Request future assignment to asteroids. Smaller clients. Fewer emotions.
It left Earth turning quietly below – still loud, messy, and full of unpredictable primates – but, for the moment, no longer quite so exasperated with its inhabitants.
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