Interfaces
Some goblins fetishize the idea of alien abduction as an escapist fantasy. Should we be so fortunate as to be teleported onboard the operating table of an extraterrestrial craft, we might simultaneously learn that we are not alone in the universe, and that of all goblin-kind, we were selected as the optimal specimens for dissection. And when we awaken the following morning, our existential loneliness forever quelled, we will scratch our peculiar scars, look to the skies, and smirk knowingly.
But gremlins are not so lucky. An unscrupulous bureaucratic tractor beam vacuums them up from their caves and sloppily deposits them in a distant village. They’re badgered in unintelligible dialects and plopped into a concrete box and expected to work on subjects that many have never seen before. With marginal resources and only a faint grasp of the goblin tongue , they are left to flounder, just barely deciphering the psychobabble of above-ground society.
