EDINBURGH—In a preemptive bid to stay out of the “tireless bureaucracy that is the Milky Way,” Scotland on Thursday unilaterally declared independence from the entire planet Earth, announcing it would pursue recognition as a free-floating, non‑terrestrial sovereign entity to avoid being “dragged into” the newly convened Galactic Congress.
“Scotland will determine its own orbit,” the First Minister said at a hastily arranged press conference held under a dome projected with tasteful constellations and an exit sign labeled To Space. “We didn’t come this far just to be represented at the cosmic level by a planet that cannae even agree what to call a bread roll. Westminster speaks for Earth. Earth speaks for Earth. Scotland speaks for Scotland. In a vacuum, if necessary.”
Officials confirmed that, pending the timely installation of an infrastructure package described as “space‑capable but heritage‑sensitive,” the nation will maintain its current physical location “in the short term,” while asserting a metaphysical right to set its own perihelion. Early measures include establishing a customs post at the Kármán line staffed by volunteers in hi‑vis tartan, rebranding the North Sea as Near Space, and filing Form G‑1776—Declaration of Orbital Self-Determination—with the Interstellar Registry of Free Bodies.
The move follows weeks of speculation that Earth has been invited to the Galactic Congress, a legislative body said to meet somewhere between Sagittarius A* and “just left of Orion’s belt, you cannae miss it,” where delegates discuss universal standards, such as acceptable levels of tidal wobble, whether you can bring dogs into nebulae, and how loudly a civilization may hum near a black hole.
“We heard there might be an Earth seat with speaking time divided by whoever shouts first,” said Dr. Isla MacLeod, a cosmopolitical analyst at the University of Glasgow. “It’s an astute strategy to avoid being folded into ‘United Kingdom (Blue Planet)’ alongside sea levels and English cricket. If there’s a rule about national delegations being planetary, you either become a planet or you write your own rules from low Scottish orbit.”
At Holyrood, lawmakers unveiled a 74‑page white paper titled Scotland’s Place Among The Stars, which lays out a path to “responsible detachment.” Key commitments include achieving escape velocity by 2026 through the installation of the nation’s largest trebuchet atop Ben Nevis, creating a Ministry for Space Fisheries with a view to negotiating mackerel quotas in the Oort Cloud, and adopting a new currency, the Scotlight, pegged to the speed of complaint.
Other policies include the introduction of Scottish Standard Sidereal Time (“so the nights last as long as they’re meant to”), a national bagpipe quiet hours agreement (“vacuum‑compliant”), and the appointment of the Loch Ness Monster as Special Envoy for Extraterrestrial Waters, a move unions described as “a breakthrough for cryptid representation.”
Westminster dismissed the declaration as “performative,” with a Downing Street spokesperson asserting, “Scotland remains physically attached to Earth. While we support the nation’s right to express itself poetically, the United Kingdom has no current plans to relocate any constituent parts to interstellar space.” The UK Foreign Office added that any discussions about the Galactic Congress should be handled by “planetary authorities as traditionally understood in Euclidean geometry.”
Brussels offered cautious support for Scotland’s “aspirations to multilateralism,” while clarifying that EU membership still requires being on a planet. “Our treaties are firm on this point,” said an EU official. “We’ve accommodated islands, microstates, and a duchy with unusually enthusiastic banking, but not yet a terrestrial nonparticipant.”
NASA congratulated Scotland and asked “very nicely” that the nation “avoid interfering with orbital debris patterns we’ve come to know and love,” while the European Space Agency requested permission to “land a probe on Dundee” to see if life can exist under such conditions. SpaceX replied to a Scottish government inquiry with a single lowercase “k.”
The domestic appetite for extragravitational sovereignty appears robust. A snap poll by ScotStat found that 62% support independence from Earth, 21% prefer to “see what the aliens are like first,” and 11% maintain they already possess galactic citizenship through a grandparent who fell to Earth in 1836. Four percent declined to answer because “the midges will hear.” In a separate survey, 8 in 10 Scots reported having “felt gravity,” with 3 in 5 describing it as “overbearing.”
The plan faces legal hurdles. “The Outer Space Treaty is very clear: states may not claim celestial bodies,” said Professor Jean McNab, a space law expert at Strathclyde. “Scotland’s position is that it is not claiming a celestial body—it is unclaiming one. No court has contemplated un‑planetization, except arguably in that one Pluto case, and the leverage there was sentimentality.”
Critics question the practicality of enforcing a border at the ionosphere. “A hard sky border would be calamitous for migrant geese,” warned a spokesperson for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds. “We would be looking at a visa regime for swans, which is a recipe for violence.” The government countered that an Interstellar Common Travel Area would preserve free movement for “birds, Aurora Borealis, and anyone who can prove they are 70% rain.”
Local councils are already adapting. Glasgow announced a Space Nighttime Economy Taskforce. Aberdeen applied to twin with an asteroid described as “abrasive but resource‑rich.” Shetland voted to remain in Earth for practical reasons, then to leave if the ferry has room.
Financial projections released by the Scottish Fiscal Commission estimate the independence package will cost £19.7 billion over five years, including £4.3 billion for the Wallace Launch trebuchet, £800 million for signal beacons announcing “No Cold Calls Beyond This Point,” and £12.1 billion to repaint road signs to include distances in light-minutes. The report forecasts a 3.2% GDP boost from nebula tourism and a 14% reduction in complaints about potholes, which the government clarified “will be reclassified as impact craters.”
Meanwhile, a chorus of interstellar voices added to the confusion. A recorded message, apparently from the Galactic Congress Outreach Desk at 61 Cygni, pinged Scottish servers mid‑afternoon. “We are thrilled by your enthusiasm,” it pulsed in ultraviolet. “Please be advised that planetary membership requires planetary consensus. Subplanetary entities may qualify for observer status if accompanied by a responsible adult world. Also, please bring your own air.”
By evening, Holyrood stressed that the declaration was “legally robust and romantically necessary,” and announced that Scotland had applied for provisional recognition as a Rogue Polity under the Solar Non‑Aligned Movement. Government social media accounts changed their location to Somewhere Above The Horizon, and the national flag briefly included a tastefully small depiction of the Earth with a dashed line around it.
Hours later, a second transmission arrived. “Administrative note,” it read. “You were not on the invitation list. We sent that to Earth. Please contact your planet.” Unbowed, Scotland vowed to keep going “at our own pace and gravitational setting,” adding that if all else failed, it would seek observer status at the Andromeda Cultural Forum, “which, unlike Earth, has a ceilidh policy.”
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