"So far we have been assuming that the robots were after the engine, because that is what Maureen Robinson assumed and stated. However, Maureen is shown to be wrong about everything except her job, and especially wrong about motivations."Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over analyzes. Today we are taking a look at one of the central questions of the 2018 series, Lost in Space. What is the motivation of the alien species? What are they after? The assumption that most of the fandom has been making is that the robots are on a justified rescue mission to save Scarecrow from the vicious aliens who tortured him and used his engine. ​

 Going, Going, Gauntlet! - Good, Clean, Faintly Disturbing Fun – Glitch Techs Season 1 Episode 3


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over analyzes! Today we are looking at the third (or fourth) episode of the show Glitch Techs. We’re in for another round of character growth and world building, and the world that it is building is...off.  

 Humans are Weird – Personal Protection


“Ah yes! Ranger Third Class Smitty,” Commander Third Trill called from the window over his door. “Could I talk to you for a moment?”
Ranger Smitty tried to hide his wince before he turned and smiled up at the base commander.
“Sure thing boss,” he said, remembering to let his grin show in a flash of white teeth against dark skin.
The Winged on this base were pretty dang stubborn about ‘integrating properly’ as they put it and took offense if the human personnel tried to restrain or otherwise hide their normal reactions. Granted when the base commander asked to ‘talk to you’ in that tone it was never a reason to grin but politeness and all that. He tried not to slouch or slink as he walked into the commander’s office.
“Please have a perch,” Commander Third Trill said with a gesture at the office furniture that looked like a chair that had been built in the dark from instructions in a language the carpenter didn’t fully understand.
Ranger Smitty eased down onto the flattest surface and gave the commander a strained smile. The Winged gave his sensory horns a quick rub with his winghooks before giving Ranger Smitty a toothy smile.
“How have you been?” the commander asked.
Ranger Smitty winced at the high pitched tone but held his smile.
“Pretty good, pretty good,” he said.
“Have you found you work satisfactory and fulfilling?” the commander asked.
“I love working with the big sensor sets,” Ranger Smitty said with full honestly.
“Is your supervisor being as helpful as she might be?” the commander pressed.
“Eighth Sister?” Ranger Smitty blinked in surprise. “Yeah, she’s great. She’s always right out there with me. Not much anyone else on the base can do for the big rigs. Those skinny little bug arms of hers are pretty strong all things considered.”
“She provides you with all the personal protective equipment that you need?” the commander went on.
Ranger Smitty gave a snort of laughter.
“More than enough,” he said. “I don’t use half the junk she packs in the rigs for the field day.”
Commander Third Trill’s black eyes narrowed meaningfully and Ranger Smitty gave a nervous twitch.
“About that,” Commander Third Trill said in what sounded like it was supposed to be a soothing tone. “I do notice that you are not using the recommended amount of work gloves.”
Ranger Smitty gave a noncommittal grunt and tried not to eye the door for an escape route. The little buggers were fast and could read human directional signals like a book.
“In fact Eighth Sister has lodged several complaints about this,” Commander Third Trill said.
“Bug folk should have figured out we can take a little damage by now,” Ranger Smitty muttered slipping into his chair and trying to hide his hands under his thighs.
The commander kept up his smile as he held out his winghooks.
“May I see your hands?” he asked.
Ranger Smitty hesitated but really couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse. So he pulled his hands out from under his thighs and put them on the top of the commander’s raised platform. He was somewhat satisfied to see the commander wince as he skipped forward to examine Ranger Smitty’s hands. They were perfectly normal hands as far as Ranger Smitty could see. He had broad fingers that squared off at the ends. Nine of his ten fingernails were perfectly healthy, and the one that wasn’t...well wasn’t there really...was showing every sign of growing back in normally. However the commander’s eyes seemed to be tracking over every scratch and scrape in his skin. There were a few of them. Working on the big sensor units were wasn’t easy on the old graspers after all.
Commander Third Trill glanced up at him meaningfully and very produced a measuring tape from one of the folds in his wing. Ranger Smitty arched an eyebrow at him and the commander very carefully laid the tape along the length of the worst healing cut. The tape stretched out to nearly a full wingspan in length and at its widest section threatened to engulf the thin tape.
“Is this normal Ranger Third Class Smitty?” Commander Third Trill asked with a glitter in his eyes.
“Normal?” Ranger Smitty hedged. “Well, that depends-”
“Ranger Smitty,” Commander Third Trill said with a sigh as he recoiled the measuring tape. “Before you answer please be aware that I have full access to the University records.”
Ranger Smitty squirmed and bit and then sighed.
“No sir,” he said. “It’s not recommended.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Commander Third Trill observed.
“Well where I come from this is normal,” Ranger Smitty said with a shrug. “You should’a seen my daddy’s hands, but it ain’t exactly recommended.”
“Very true,” Commander Third Trill accepted. “On this base we do consider it best to go with the recommended use of personnel protective equipment.”
Ranger Smitty heaved a sigh.
“Wear the gloves Ranger Third Class Smitty,” the commander said firmly.
“I’ll wear the gloves,” Ranger Smitty agreed.
“And do recall that even when Eighth Sister doesn’t accompany you your hands are visible when you get home.” Commander Third Trill said.
“Yes sir,” Ranger Smitty said as he stood and gave a brisk nod before leaving the office.  

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 Will John Robinson Revive SAR in Season 3?Hello My wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams theorizes. Today we are taking another look at the 2018 reboot of Lost in Space. It’s been nearly a good six months since season two dropped so we are almost halfway to season three. I’d like to take a look at one theory about what’s going to happen in the last season of Lost in Space. Specifically is John Robinson going to revive SAR.

​

Tutorial Mode – It’s A Conspiracy Alright— Government or Corporate—Glitch Techs Season 1 Episode 2

Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams overanalyzes. Today we look at the second (or third depending on how you count the pilot) episode of the first season of Glitch Techs. This jumps right into the world building as our erstwhile heroes face a fantastic challenge! Training day! Dun, dun, dun! Seriously though, this show is a delight of tropes that are played straight, subverted, and used to cloak a growing plot until the moment is right. Let’s jump in. 



 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.  Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.

​ What the Ever Loving Glitch Am I Watching - Glitch Tech Season 1 Episode 1 Part 1 – Analysis Review


Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over analyzes. Today we are looking at the first episode of Glitch Techs. This my friends is a gem of a cartoon and it opens with a nearly hour long pilot that keeps you guessing about the world’s rules even as it explains them.  

 Humans are Weird – Sparks


“Human Friend Mercy?” Rotates With Decision asked as she lifted her leading end out of the temporary tank the human in question had provided for her.
“What is it Rotates?” Human Friend Mercy replied without turning her face away from the reflective surface that was mounted on one wall.
“Wouldn’t your meditative devotion be more effective if you had another mirror angled from your … well it isn’t your lagging end exactly. I think you call it your supine surface? Or perhaps a pair, or a trine of mirrors would be more effective. But perhaps humans cannot interoperate an image scattered that far. Rolls a little your binocular vision should help with that…”
Human Friend Mercy’s hands had slowed in their soothing repetitive motions and the light show dimmed allowing the perhifreial sparks to dance more clearly. Her head slowly turned her face towards the Undulate in the tank revealing that she had sacrificed the bilateral symmetry of her face to get a proper visual sounding of the scene. It was, Rotates With Decision had been led to believe, a gesture of lack of understanding and mental effort to understand.
“Say way lil’ gal?” Human Friend Mercy drawled out.
“I will ask again once you have completed what you are doing,” Rotates With Decision said. “Do you mind if I deliberately observe with all of my appendages?
“Watch as much as you want,” the human replied with a graceful, almost Undulate dip of her shoulders.
A shrug, Rotates With Decision believed it was called, one of the more normal movements the massive bipeds produced from their numerous joints. Rotates With Decision gave a hum of gratitude and spread her appendages to observe the brilliant light show. She wondered idly why none of her companions with more human experience had ever mentioned this marvel.
The brush, a mass printed device that resembled the algae agitators she used back home in the growth pools, was gripped firmly in the humans dominant hand while she used her non-dominant hand to direct the fall of the thread thin fibers that grew out of her caudal end. The human had begun the meditative devotion by freeing the thousands of strands from the cloth band that restrained them and now the band clung snugly one of the larger joints on her arm. Then she had started using the teeth of the brush at the lagging end of the fibers to tease out the tangles exactly as one had to loosen the more fibrous algae back home.
The moment the printed material of the brush had touched the fibers a shower of brilliant sparks had erupted from the contact. As Human Friend Mercy had worked the brush up the length of her fibers the showers of sparks had grown in number and density until the flowing mass of fibers was a veritable cascade of dancing light. When all of the tangles were worked out of the fibers the human had worked up a steady rhythm that filled the room with the sparking light.
The beauty, the light, the rhythm, the softly chanted tune that Rotates With Decision couldn’t quite make out, everything about the wondrous scene before her spoke of a religious devotion. Even if Rotates With Decision hadn’t had the chance to see the ancient human religious art on display she would have recognized the holiness of the moment. As it was the tradition of putting a circle representing light around the head of humans in religious devotion suddenly made so much more sense.
Rotates With Decision suddenly realized that that chanting was actually the decamarked counting form the humans used. Human Friend Mercy was counting up by ones and was somewhere in the mid sixties. Rotates With Decision wondered which human prayers had that many beats. She had been somewhat under the impression that nightly prayers were usually shorter. She wondered suddenly if it had been rude to interrupt the prayer. Humans were oddly solitary creatures sometimes. True, Human Friend Mercy hadn’t appeared to be offended, but the human was probably too agreeable to express such a thing even if it was inconvenient to her.
The pace of the prayer was picking up in anticipation of the end count and Human Friend Mercy was briskly dragging the brush through the full length of the strands, catching the mass in her non-dominant hand and guiding the mass through the tines of the brush. The resulting light show almost obscured the dancing fibers in its glow. Human Friend Mercy reached a count of one-hundred and finished with a powerful stroke that made the room glow. Rather than bask in the accumulated light she parted the sparkling strands down the center of her caudal end and began quickly braiding the two halves into the side braids she had explained were the most comfortable for sleep. Showers of sparks fell from her fingers and lit on her shoulders before extinguishing in the ambient vapor. The human finished the task and dropped the brush on the shelf before giving a little hop and landing on her bunk.
“What was that question you asked Rotates?” Human Friend Mercy asked as she shifted in the usual human search for a comfortable position.
“Primarily I wanted to know why you have not arranged for a view of your, dorsal I believe, surface during the prayer time,” Rotates With Decision said.
Human Friend Mercy stopped shifting with her pillow clutched in her hands and stared at Rotates With Decision with the fluctuating gaze that indicated deep thought.
“What prayer now?” Human Friend Mercy asked with confusion clear in her tones.
“The counting prayer you just preformed at the mirror,” Rotates With Decision said, gesturing towards the reflective surface.
“That wasn’t a religious thing,” Human Friend Mercy said slowly. “It was a hygiene thing. It distributes the oils properly though my hair so the oils produced at the base of the strands can reach all the way to the tips. It also prevents insects from nesting in the braids and dislodges any dirt. I count to make sure I give sufficient time to the task.”
Rotates With Decision positively wriggled in surprise.
“Such astounding beauty produced from a merely hygienic process!” she exclaimed. “How delightful, but surely even so you would want to view the full effect of the light flow?”
“The what now?” Human Friend Mercy said, but was interrupted by a yawn.
“I can ask you about it in the morning,” Rotates With Decision said as she slipped back into the tank.
“Good idea,” Human Friend Mercy said and she shifted position to begin sleep.
However after a moment her arm lifted from her side and dropped across her caudal end in a pose that usually indicated thoughtfulness rather than restfulness.
“Yo’ Rotates,” Human Friend Mercy called out with another yawn. “Think I got it. My and my sister would sometimes brush our hair in the dark to see the sparks it made. I bet you can see ‘em even without it being pitch black.”
The human voice had wandered off into sleep and her arm dropped to her side so Rotates With Decision did not bother perusing the matter. There was always tomorrow. She stared at the lingering glow in the braids that fell over the human’s shoulders in fascination. Was it possible a species could produce such beauty without realizing it?


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​The Second Lie of Lost in Space Part 4 – Eating the First Year’s and Other Delusions – Judy Robinson
Hello my wonderful viewers and welcome to another episode of Betty Adams over-analyzes. Today we look at the second main lie of Lost in Space for the fourth time.
Alpha Centauri is a lie. Not to say that a human habitable planet in the Centauri system doesn’t exist. The planet is there. A population of thousands is living, loving, dying on Alpha Centauri. This is a population that needs farmers, mechanics, and doctors. Oh, Alpha Centauri is real. Very, very real, but not even a doctor of Judy’s skill is going to find a shiny, premade carer waiting for her in that pit of misery.

My 'Humans Are Weird' universe was conceived way back in the late aughts in a tiny cook cabin on a river in the Alaskan bush. A river was trickling by, hordes of zombie mosquitoes were massing at the window screens as they developed a resistance to 100% DEET, and I was busily mulling over the discovery of how loud I could scream when properly motivated. However it took nearly half a decade longer for the universe to really take off. The universe had aliens, human, spaceships, and humor but it really didn't have a hook.  
However that all changed with I heard and felt a deep resonance with the budding HFY community on the internet. This clarified the central theme of my universe. Humans are Weird. Very, very, weird. 
However, while the author side of me was very happy with this idea, the wildlife ecologist side of me wasn't quite satisfied with it. You see there is a basic tenet in biology, form follows function.  All those science fiction universes that set humans as the boring, normal baseline species did so with an actual practical reason at their backs. They assumed that Earth was a boring normal planet. "Class M" in the Star Trek universe I believe. M for mundane. 
If human were going to have the form of 'weird' in my universe there had to be a function for it. That function was obviously survival on Earth. So if humans were going to be significantly weirder, significantly tougher, significantly more dangerous than other species than Earth had to be a seriously messed up place. 
So in my universe I set Earth as the absolute extreme environment that could sustain intelligent life. Earth is a death world full of volcanoes and storms that will rip mountains down, and plagues of locusts that would devour every green thing.
In crafting the other species in this universe I began to ask questions like what would a species look like that had never once had to flee a predator? What would a species look like that couldn't conceive of the concept of a natural scarcity of resources? What would a species behave like that had never once experienced a viral pandemic? But most importantly, how would all of these soft creatures respond to humanity? 
The best summation of this concept can be found in a Tumblr post doing the rounds.  This is that post. 

 Humans are Weird – Abrasive


“It is very fortunate for Human Friend Sarah that you were able to come with us,” Rollstight commented as she shuffled into her transport tank. “I could not have acquired nearly so much of the samples she required with my speed over such surfaces.”
Seventh Sister gave an absent click of agreement as she continued picking up the broken fragments of the strange volcanic rock. The fragile specimen had been improperly secured in one of the mass transport’s overhead bins and only the membrane shield she was wearing when it fell had protected her from severe injury. She shifted her head underneath the protective hood and winced as the material rubbed over her antenna tasting of nothing but the synthetic fibers. She tossed the last of the fragments into the carry case and glanced around for any more. She didn’t see any and rose to her full height. She sealed the carry case and watched as Rollstight activated the air filters and the vacuum drone.
When the sensors declared the interior of the transport free of the dangerous fragments of volcanic rock Seventh Sister pulled the membrane shield with a flex of relief. She flared out her frill and extended her antenna several times. She shook out all four legs one at a time and was in the process of giving her abdomen a good flex when Rollstight gave a disgruntled hum. Seventh Sister focused her attention on her and smiled as she saw the many appendages struggling to find purchase on the sides of the tank.
“Do you require assistance?” Seventh Sister asked.
“Yes,” Rollstight admitted. “These old isolation tanks were built too large for the median mass Undulate. Could you go fetch Human Friend Mack?”
“I am capable of assisting you myself,” Seventh Sister assured her.
She tripped lightly up to the tank and offered her forearms as a point of leverage. The Undulate wrapped her gripping appendages around her primary joint politely but seemed hesitant to put any weight on the limb.
“Are you sure you are capable?” Rollstight asked. “I don’t usually climb anyone over Fifth.”
“The strength gradient is negligible between Fifth and Tenth.” Seventh Sister assured her. “And I am well above the mean strength for a Fifth.”
“You are sure of this?” Rollstight pressed. “You are not attempting to prove your usefulness to the collective by risking a stress injury?”
Seventh Sister laid her frill tight against her neck but managed to keep the offense out of her voice.
“I am not a human Rollstight!” she said.
Rollstight gave a hum of apology and held out her gripping appendages. Her weight was slightly painful but, as she had predicted, well within the tolerance of Seventh Sister’s joints. When Rollstight was safely on the floor they began to leave together.
“So what did Human Friend Sarah want with those volcanic rocks?” Rollstight asked.
“I am uncertain,” Seventh Sister said. “She said it could be used in a medical application for the problem she is having with her feet.”
“Oh yes,” Rollstight said. “Her outer membrane cracked and was bleeding if I recall correctly.”
Seventh Sister felt a shudder of horror go through her at the cavalier nature of the statement. How could reasonable people be so calm about membrane damage?
“Yes,” was all she said aloud.
“So dose the volcanic action generate the mineral complex she needs?” Rollstight asked.
“I do not think it is a mineral deficiency she is correcting,” Seventh Sister said. “Her instructions focused on the density of the air pockets in the rock and it’s general density.”
“Hey!” a cheerful human voice called out from the corridor ahead. “Is that my pumice?”
“It is Human Friend Sarah,” Rollstight answered. “We were just wondering what you wanted it for.”
“My feet!” Human Friend Sarah said cheerfully. “Got some nasty calluses from all the hiking we’ve been doing and when they split they took some live skin with them.”
“How will these mineral samples help with that?” Rollstight asked. “Will you need access to the mineral grinders?”
“Grinders?” Human Friend Sarah asked. “Nah, they’re small enough now. I just need one flat surface for the abrasion to work.”
“Abrasion?” Seventh Sister asked as Human Friend Sarah took the sample container.
Rollstight gave a hum of satisfaction and understanding.
“Well I can’t scrape off all that dead skin with cotton,” Human Friend Said with a shrug. “Thanks for getting these for me. Hope it was no trouble.”
Human Friend Sarah gave them a friendly wave as she turned and started back down the corridor. Beside Seventh Sister Rollstight lifted several appendages and waved them idly at the Shatar. Seventh Sister shook out her suddenly stiff frill and glanced down at the Undulate.
“Do you have a question Rollstight?” Seventh Sister managed to ask.
“I have never seen your frill quite that color,” Rollstight observed in surprised tones. “What does it indicate?”
“Emotional shock and some horror,” Seventh Sister admitted. “Possibly disbelief and hopefully lack of understanding.”
“Was it something Human Friend Sarah said?” Rollstight asked.
“She,” Seventh Sister began slowly, dabbing at her eyes rapidly with her proboscis in an attempt to calm herself, “she implied that she was going to use the jagged surface of the volcanic rock to scrape away the outer layer of her membrane.”
“Yes,” Rollstight agreed. “I should have been able to surmise. We do something similar for when our gripping appendages get too rough, but we usually use an abrasive paste. Gripping such a large rock must require gloves if their hands are not equally calloused as their feet.”
Seventh Sister stared down at Rollstight in quiet contemplation. She finally curled her antenna tight to her head and gave her frill a shake.
“I think I need to call my Mother,” she said as she turned and walked down the corridor.  



 Thank you all so much for your updoots and feedback. It gives me the will to go on. Want to see more? Think about becoming a Patreon.  Tea refuses to buy itself and the more time one has to spend on a day job the less time there is for befuddled aliens.