The problem with humans—if one were to ask any reasonably perceptive galactic philosopher—is their complete and utter obliviousness to the fact that they are, by all measurable standards, completely mad.

Take, for instance, the Siliqoth Incident.

The Siliqoth was a race of shimmering, golden entities whose absurdly large fleets had, for centuries, ensured that the phrase “Don’t upset the Siliqoth” was considered excellent survival advice across all known universe.

This did not stop humans.

They managed to topple the entire Siliqoth civilization without so much as lifting a finger—or rather, by lifting a pint. A shipment of what humans jovially refer to as "a rather decent batch of homebrew" was left in the Siliqoth water supply and, within days, the Siliqoth, a species whose biology had never even heard of fermentation, found themselves utterly and catastrophically sloshed. Their mighty armadas were left scattered drunkenly across the cosmos and their ruling council was found collapsed in a glittering heap in the royal palace. An event later described by historians as “an unprecedented collapse of a major universal power.”

It was this bizarre blend of chaos and destruction that made humans quite helpful to the Galactic Federation—particularly when faced with problems that were too irritating to be solved by conventional means.

And the problem at hand was nothing but irritatingly persistent.

Two planets, Zogtar-5 and Splibblax-3, had been bickering over the same patch of asteroid-laden space for the better part of a millennium. Each planet claimed the asteroid field contained "incredibly valuable resources," though no one had ever bothered to check what, exactly, those resources were. Zogtar-5 said it was mostly rare minerals, and Splibblax-3 insisted it was packed with exotic, intangible commodities like "interstellar feng shui."

Every few years, these two planets would engage in a series of bloody battles which always began the same way—insults via radio waves were hurled across the void, escalating in frequency and pettiness as the fleets of ships from both sides slowly approached each other.

The insults ranged from crude jabs about planetary size ("Your planet looks like a half-eaten fruit!") to convoluted slanders about each other's leadership ("At least our Prime Minister doesn’t wear a wig made of cashew nuts!"). Then when the ships finally crawled within firing range, the shooting would begin.

The Federation had tried everything—peace envoys, strongly worded letters, and even a particularly dazzling laser light show to "symbolize harmony"—but nothing worked.

And so, they sent a message to Earth: Please dispatch one warship to the Zogtar-Splibblax sector. Discretion is unnecessary. Urgency, however, is appreciated.

Several days later, the ESS Fuck Around and Find Out arrived.

The Fuck Around and Find Out was legendary, not for what it had done, but for what it could do—if it ever really had to. It slid into orbit above the disputed asteroid field, bringing the advancing fleets of Zogtar-5 and Splibblax-3 to an immediate halt. Then, it ejected two enormous containers, which drifted lazily into position—one before each fleet.

The planetary leaders scrambled to get the Galactic Federation on the line.

“The humans are here!” the Zogtarian High Chancellor bleated in panic.

“Yes, we know,” came the weary voice of the Federation President.

“They’ve brought boxes!”

“Yes, that is also expected.”

“AND THEY’RE PLAYING LULLABIES!”

“Well, that’s a new one.”

At that moment, the lullabies ceased. There was a brief silence, then a cheerful voice crackled over every frequency. “Hello, chaps! We couldn’t help but notice you’ve been having a bit of a tiff for, oh, several centuries now. So we thought we’d pop by and well… spectate!”

A long, uneasy silence followed. One of the fleet commanders swallowed audibly.

“Naturally,” the voice continued, “humans never arrive empty-handed. So, we’ve brought gifts!

“In the containers before you, you’ll find our latest innovation—a weapon capable of reducing your opponents to a vague and unsightly smear in just one shot!

“So, should you choose to use them, your dispute will be resolved instantly. No more pointless battles, no more passive-aggressive communiqués—just one swift, clean and, dare we say, satisfying conclusion. Isn't that lovely?"

There was a final, ominous chuckle, then the human ship promptly reversed a safe distance and resumed playing lullabies.

The fleets of Zogtar-5 and Splibblax-3 stared at their respective boxes.

No one dared touch them.

Days passed. The lullabies continued.

The Federation, trying to be helpful, suggested that if neither side wished to use the weapons, they could simply tell the humans "no, thank you."

But of course, neither side was willing to do that.

More days passed.

And then, just as mysteriously as they had arrived, the ESS Fuck Around and Find Out turned off its lullabies and vanished into hyperspace.

But still, no one dared touch the boxes.

Each side stationed ships to watch over their respective box, to ensure that if the other planet opened their box, they could immediately open theirs in retaliation.

To this very day, the ships of Zogtar-5 and Splibblax-3 remain in space, watching their boxes, waiting for the other to make the first move.

The boxes are, of course, empty.