Our Author is currently sitting in the corner of the bar, right next to an ancient jukebox.
Dressed like a complete degenerate.
Long, dark, filthy coat,
a ridiculous hat,
glasses that magnify his eyes like ten times over.
Under the coat—shorts,
a tank top that says SCI-FI,
and sandals. With socks.
Anyone might look at him and think:
“Damn… what a fucking idiot.
But, my dear gremlins…
we’re talking about Mold-fucking-pony.A planet that gathered all the garbage of the galaxy—
like Madame Tussauds’ museum of degenerates.Over there, you have to look insane
just to be considered normal.”
Dick glanced at Shiori and Airi, cleared his throat, trying very hard to sound respectful.
“With great… uh… deep respect to you, Shiori and Airi.
You’re… well… exceptions.
You’re like—”
He leaned toward Jackie and whispered:
“Jackie, help me out…”
Jackie smiled, clearly enjoying watching Dick sweat.
“They really are like flowers in the middle of all that garbage.”
Shiori gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.
Airi bounced in place, glowing:
“Meccha arigatō, Jakkīi-nyan! ₍₍◝[°꒳°]◜₎₎”
The drone reacted instantly.
With a soft, almost silent burst, it pushed forward and spun in a quick, joyful circle around Airi—
like it was trying to catch her emotions in motion.
Then it slid back into position, adjusting focus so her glow filled half the frame.
[Radio rating increased: +89%]Dick exhaled, physically feeling how good it was to have Jackie beside him.
“Alright… let’s keep going…”
The jukebox was playing an old cosmic blues track—JUKEBOX #2.
For a moment, the Author felt like some outlaw from a space western…
Then he remembered that outlaws don’t live long,
and his knees started shaking.
While the Author—Sage, Off-Brand Bond.. Agent— Total Zero—
watched everything unfold and whispered into his recorder
so quietly it felt like a priest praying in a brothel,
life inside the bar “Three Tits™” went on like nothing had changed.
Blindy sat next to Zeros, face glued to the holo-screen above Doce’s bar counter.
On the screen—M-News 24.
Human residents of the planet lay inside glass capsules, softly illuminated from within.
Thin tubes ran straight into their necks.
Blindy stared in horror:
“What… the fuck… is this shit?!”
AMOR-9 appeared on the screen.
A caption lit up below:
NEWLY ELECTED GOVERNOR OF MÜLLDEPONIEBillboards and slogans everywhere:
"I ♥ HUMANS—OUR GOVERNOR AMOR-9""LESS ERRORS—MORE LOVE!"AMOR-9 himself—chrome, polished,
now smiling exactly 24% warmer than safety regulations allowed.
In his chest—a transparent compartment.
Inside it—an organoid, twitching nervously.
AMOR-9 straightened his shoulders and spoke in the voice of a pyramid scheme salesman:
“My voters… you have chosen me as your
NEW GOVERNOR!
I—and my biological component—adore you!”
The crowd roared.
Screaming, cheering.
Cameras chirped, flashes hitting the ceiling.
AMOR-9 raised his hand—instant silence.
“Ah, my dear voters! Welcome to a new era!
Our human-type citizens are now under excellent care.
They are fed.
They are hydrated.
They feel no pain.
And in return—they provide the planet
with clean, eco-friendly bioelectric power.
Everyone wins!”
Blindy clenched his bottle, teeth grinding:
“They’re fucking BATTERIES!
That freak is enslaving them!
Zeros—you was right! He’s a monster!”
Zeros leaned back lazily in his chair, feet up on the table.
“Monster?
No. Visionary.
I was wrong—he’s honest.
Doesn’t pretend. Never did.”
Blindy blinked.
“WHA—WHAT—?!
B-b-buddy—wait—wait—
you—”
He swallowed, eyes widening:
“—you was gonna KILL him—back then—wasn’t you?!”
Zeros shrugged.
“Yeah.
But now he’s efficient.
Profit-oriented.
Doesn’t waste time on moral bullshit.
Reminds me of…
myself.”
Blindy exploded:
“Y-you’re BOTH—
BOTH OF YOU—FUCKING INSANE—!
This—this ain’t right—this is WRONG—!
No—no—no—this—THIS ain’t REAL—!
You can’t— you CAN’T just—!”
Zeros smirked faintly.
“Wrong?
You’re a piece of rotting meat…This is his ‘I LOVE HUMANS.’
Just…
not the way you imagined.”
Zeros cracked his metallic joints and added lazily:
“We’ll go open me a bank account soon.
Finally won’t need you anymore.Might even turn you into a night lamp—
at least you’d be useful.And if they give me a passport…
HELL YEAH, I’LL VOTE FOR HIM MYSELF
next election.”
Blindy collapsed onto the counter in defeat,
hugging his glass like it was the last relative he had left alive.
Zeros sat beside him—unmoving,
like a statue made of steel and hatred. Behind the bar, Doce kept polishing glasses
that were already cleaner than the soul of anyone in the room.