10: The Revenge of Unoriginality Man

terminal 0

unfinished

??????????

What do you think this is? A pleasure cruise? The civilians gotta go, there's no way around it. Clean the ship and come back here.

#END

success

#PICT 8 As you look back over the 2 dozen innocent unarmed civilians you just mowed down, a feeling of grief passes over you, and then leaves as quickly as it comes. Oh well, you mutter as you power up the hyperdrives. The destination button is flashing a question mark on the primary control panel. You stop and think, you have ultimate power, where could you possibly want to go? After thirty seconds, you realize that the computer is now asking you in an unmistakably electronic voice "where to, boss?" You smile and a feeling of relief comes over you, knowing that for once in your life, you can finally work with a computer that is less intelligent than you. Okay enough thinking, you mutter. Let's face the facts. You can't think of a single damn thing that would satisfy you in this universe, but what about all that nonsense about parallel universes?

There's gotta be some merit in sacking another dimension, don't you think? If this were Rendar you were corresponding with, he'd surely be annoyed by now, but the computer in front of you just blinks contentedly and repeats it's synthetic "Where to, boss" message. "Computer," you command. "Where is the closest porthole out of this universe?" "The closest porthole, Gateway, leads to the Ludicrous universe located in the 6th dimension, boss." "Okay, set a course. One last thing, what do you have in the way of alcoholic beverages on board this hunk of metal?" "Oh, the finest in the known universe," the computer replies. Maybe you were imagining it, but there seemed to be a hint of pride in that last response. Maybe there's more to this computer than you realize.

But for now, it's completely irrelivent, you think as you examine the vast supply of beers, wines, and otherwise intoxicating drinks onboard. You suddenly realize that for the first time in over two years, you're finally happy. You ponder that thought as you lay back and prepare to get thouroughly smashed.

Goodbye, for now.