Human-Overkill Theory

You’ve probably heard the name Linda Beckman. Early twenty-second century visionary industrialist, world’s first trillionaire. She made some unfortunate political alliances late in life that stained her reputation, but overall she did more good than bad. During the decades between her meteoric rise and her shameful final years, she spent her fortune and her energy on philanthropy. Though, the term is a little misleading, as her focus had little to do with people and everything to do with animals.

On the edge of the Scorpius constellation, about 45 lightyears from Earth, is a large rocky planet in the habitable zone of a star similar to our own. It’s completely covered in an ocean of magma 12 miles thick, but luckily it has a large moon. Large enough to keep its nitrogen-oxygen atmosphere and liquid water. Linda Beckman claimed this moon—the first time an individual had legally done such a thing—and named it Reserve.

Using advanced biotechnology—imagined more than a century prior as wildly speculative entertainment—Beckman recreated the various megafauna from Earth’s past, both ancient and recent, that had been lost to extinction: mastodons and blue whales, short-faced bears and stegosauruses, woolly rhinoceros and South China tigers. Reserve was set aside as an un-natural preservation, rectifying the failures of the natural world. Beckman allowed few visitors; she imposed a strict planetwide threshold of no more than 100 authorized researchers at any given time.

When Beckman passed at the age of 97, she left a tangled mess of contradictory and unprecedented legal challenges to her various holdings. After more than a decade of appeals and countersuits, Reserve became the property of her estranged son, Ambrose Phitts. At this point, his own health was ailing and he gifted the planet to his youngest son, who saw in Reserve an unmet potential that could be filled without circumventing its original purpose, at least in the strictest sense.

While you may have heard of Linda Beckman, you’ve definitely heard of Oswyn Phitts. Most people don’t know they’re related. He doesn’t advertise it, what with her tainted legacy. In any case, this is how he came to possess the planet we now call Safari, where for a reasonable fee—all things considered—you can explore, discover, and yes, hunt, the biggest, baddest game in the universe. Apex predators so fearsome, so deadly, that the Earth itself could no longer allow them to roam wild. Creatures so terrifying they must remain at least 250 trillion miles from Earth at all times.

Few can afford it, and fewer still have the courage. Do you have what it takes to be one of the elite, not at nature’s mercy but its most powerful force? Prove it, or forever be doubted. Can you afford not to go?

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