Kluu’Vres, still cramming the last bits of edible matter into his mouth, barked out:
“What, you fuckin’ scared?
Answer him yourself—don’t go pressin’ buttons!
Be a man, not some daycare asshole!”
Mimi, dramatic as ever, slapped the holographic button.
“FORST!
These assholes—man, they—
they’re attackin’ me with theses!”
Blindy snorted, leaning back:
“Ohhh, hold up—
there bets?
WE GOT BETS?!”
He slammed his palm on the table.
“I’m puttin’… uh… yeah—1,000 c-bux on Doce tellin’ everybody to fuck off.
He ALWAYS comes out on top.”
Dhal’Rrek heard that,
dropped the cards like they stopped mattering,
eyes sharpening:
“I’m puttin’ 10,000 c-bux Mimi shits himself
and blacks out before this thing even ends.”
Then, quieter—almost respectful:
“Kid’s got a gift for it.”
Not even a minute later, sirens started howling outside.
Not “woo-woo.” Just—BUZZZZ.
Like a mosquito the size of a god.
Three FORST agents stormed in, gray suits, stiff like tax demons.
Each one had a whistle.
Agent Austin Carracks—tall, unreadable:
“Present the violator.
WHO violated thesis restriction in a public space without authorization?”
Mimi pointed—missed completely, his finger landing on T.8.0.0.
He squinted, adjusted, dragged it sideways—ending up somewhere closer to the massive Gwir’Yusson, sitting on a tiny chair that looked ready to collapse under him.
“HIM!
He—fuckin’—said…
uh… you ain’t gonna believe this…
that all species got… uh…
that word… that…
equal… equa—”
Someone from the crowd yelled:
“EQUALITY!”
Mimi flinched, looked around, nodded like he knew exactly who that was.
Gwir’Yusson stood up, adjusted his chair so his shadow swallowed half the bar, then dropped back into it.
“Yeah…
What exactly I say wrong?
We all got equal rights.
Even—well—figuratively speaking—
this little red-hat idiot over here.”
FWEET
A whistle blast.
Deafening. Like a diesel angel screaming.
Agent Austin Carracks:
“FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE DETECTED.
CONTEXT UNCLEAR.
VERBAL VIOLATION.
Rule 59, section 3-b.”
Gwir’Yusson staggered from the sound like it hit him with interest.
The second agent, Trevin Blayne, eyes glued to his tablet:
“Alright… MGGA supporter…
Profile says low logical capacity.
Chance of meaningful argument…” he flicked through the air, “…yeah—zero. For both.”
The third agent, Coby Warrens, stiff like the universe depended on this:
“Beginning evaluation.
Prepare.
Mission: Advanced Reasoning Evaluation.“
He tapped his wrist.
Something beeped—quiet, useless, threatening anyway.
The FORST team stepped forward, forming a circle around them like wolves at a corporate retreat.
Agent Carracks pointed directly at Mimi:
“State your thesis.”
Mimi lowered his head, then looked up at the officers like he actually felt sorry for them.
“Aliens… uh… they destroyed the galaxy… right?”
FWEET! FWEET!
So aggressive it felt like they were fining the sound itself.
Agent Blayne, pulling the whistle from his mouth:
“UNVERIFIED GENERAL CLAIM.
ERROR: HASTY GENERALIZATION.
PENALTY: verbal declaration, three times.”
He nodded, like reciting a prayer:
“SHAME. SHAME. SHAME.”
Mimi, choking on his own anger, hands flailing:
“Okay, okay! Then… uh…
SOME… aliens…?”
FWEEEEEET! again—
long and painful, like a budget violation report.
Agent Blayne, a string of saliva still hanging from the whistle:
“ATTEMPT TO REPHRASE
UNVERIFIED GENERAL CLAIM.
ERROR: PARODY OF LOGIC.
PENALTY: verbal declaration, five times.”
He raised his voice, like a judge who’s hated everyone for years:
“SHAME. SHAME. SHAME. SHAME. SHAME.”
Kluu’Vres snorts triumphantly, tossing the last edible scrap into his mouth:
“Heh. The ape called backup…
and the backup is beating him with words.”
Dhal’Rrek exhales sharply, becoming visible:
“Raising the bet to twenty thousand c-bucks.
Mimi’s gonna shit himself early.”
Agent Warrens turns to Gwir’Yusson:
“Your thesis?”
Gwir’Yusson lifts his chin proudly—
so high it looks like he’s about to headbutt the ceiling:
“Humanity is the most failed species,
whose emotional instability
puts the entire galaxy at risk—”
FWEEEEEEEEET!
So loud the bar trembles,
and a few glasses commit suicide off the tables.
Agent Blayne breathes heavily—
he put everything into that whistle:
“UNSUPPORTED DELUSION.
VIOLATION: ARROGANCE.
PENALTY: triple whistle.”
FWEET—FWEET— FWEEET.
For a brief moment,
Gwir’Yusson regrets ever being born.
Blindy, rubbing his stomach,
relaxing like a cat in an amusement park from hell:
“Fuck…
this better than gladiaroid fights.”
Mimi could barely see from the alcohol—
now, after the whistles, he could barely hear too.
His ears rang like someone stuffed cosmic wasps inside them.
He started whining, almost crying:
“Just declare me the winner already!
I’m the one who called you, damn it!”
Agent Warrens, emotionless, like a self-checkout machine:
“Based on what?”
Mimi squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for another auditory assault, and mumbled anyway:
“Uh… ’cause I yelled… erm… louder?”
All three FORST agents
blow their whistles at once—
a synchronized symphony of bureaucratic hell.
Mimi Glitterstutz suddenly wished
his parents had never met.
Agent Carracks, cold:
“FALSE:
VOLUME is not a metric of truth.
Thesis Code, Section 4, Clause A.”
Agent Blayne, irritated, flipping through his tablet:
“FALSE:
CONTEXTUAL ASSERTION
BASED ON LOW-RESOLUTION REASONING.
Violation category: cognitive limitation, level 2.”
Agent Warrens, checking a box in mid-air:
“FALSE:
ENTITY CLASSIFICATION:
COMPLETE IDIOT.
Reason: self-confirmed.”
Kluu’Vres nods:
“Yep, yep.
That’s exactly what we’ve been telling him.
Pure-grade moron.
Didn’t need you for that.”
Agent Carracks, dry and final:
“FINAL VERDICT.
Both arguments are deemed inadequate
and logically incompetent.”
Agent Blayne, glancing at the tablet:
“We recommend both participants
reconsider their existence.
Possibly multiple times.”