If an idea needs your reputation to prop it up, it’s probably stupid.

- Mr President’s Notes to Self Twitter Account


I am Space Jesus.

- Mr President’s Notes to Self Twitter Account


6 Days Later - Megacles - The Mega Lab

I check the time. My date starts in one hour. Fuck. I have to clean faster. Real life dates have many advantages, but it’s a lot faster to virtually clean your house.

I go outside and start my cleaning at the end of the driveway and work towards the house. I shove garbage cans and gas cans into the shed. I gather fallen branches and dump them behind a bush. Is that a dead bird? Jesus.

I don’t have time to clean my whole house. The plan is to clean what he’ll see first and trust in the power of first impressions. I cram the front hall mess in the front hall closet. The closet door strains under the pressure. I’ll have to remember to take his coat.

The living room’s demons are mostly laundry and food wrappers, easily exorcised. Kitchen’s not too bad. The bathroom shakes my confidence. I clean myself here? How is that possible?

I’m out of time. The lab’s messy, but science messy. I can probably play it off as workaholism. All that shit? Yeah, that’s just today’s shit. Upstairs is indefensible. The stuff to furniture ratio is way off. Oh well. I’ll fuck him downstairs.

Agent Happy sends a text. He's running a little late, thank God. I jump in the shower.

When he arrives, I'm chopping vegetables in the kitchen. He gives me a kiss and a bit of a rub down, then starts helping with the food. We put together a few pizzas, and head outside to fire them in my little stone oven.

I fish some cooled beer out of my little stream. He praises my ability to cook a gourmet meal during a blackout. If he's aware that pizza's the only meal I can cook, he's too smooth to let on.

We head inside to eat. He pokes around my lab while the food cools.

“What's in the tanks?” he asks.

“Green sulfur algae. Lives in the deepest ocean. World's best photosynthesizer. I'm trying to breed some that can survive in daylight.” I say.

“Cool. Why?” he asks.

“If I dissolve their cell walls and coat them on the right type of glass, I should end up with a solar panel you can brew up in your bathtub.” I say.

“Awesome.” he says, “What happens if these super algae get loose, like in a river or something?”

“That would be bad. Don't do that.”

He nods and backs away from the tanks. He sees Doc-Danger's sketch of the God Machine.

“What's this? Looks like an evil scientist's shopping list.” he says.

“Good guess. Here, your pizza is ready.” I say.

We sit on the couch and tuck in. I turn on Mr. President. His popularity is at an all time high. Fucking crazy really. Everybody’s out of work and sitting in the fucking dark. But we’re having fun and nobody’s getting hurt. His health and peace plans are killing the economy, but they’re saving us. Global suffering is at an all time low. I guess people can see the good despite the bad. Also, he’s damn sexy.

The Darkness is bringing him up to speed on Martian events.

“Space Prick has declared Martian independence.” says the Darkness.

“God Damn Space Prick!!” says Mr. President. “I just got everything calmed down on Earth, and he's got to start shit in space.”

“Yeah, he could have picked a better time. For us, anyway. Pretty good time for him.” says the Darkness.

“Arrg! What's he want anyway?” says Mr. President.

“Well, since he and the other settlers paid for most of the city ships, and took all the risks, we should fuck off and let them run Mars.” says the Darkness.

“How much of the ships did they own?”

“60% of the Hermes, and 51% of Hephaestus.”

Hermes was the first Mars settlement ship. It transported 1000 people to Mars, then was torn apart and repurposed into Hermes City. Hephaestus is carrying 6000 people, and is currently halfway to Mars.

“Also, he claims they won the right to rule in the Martian War.” says the Darkness.

“What fucking Martian War? You mean, when he threw a few bitchy monkeys out an airlock?” says Mr. President.


“Fuck that fucking guy.” says Mr. President.

“You’re pissy because you drank beer with one of the monkeys.” says the Darkness.

“POOKY WAS MY FRIEND!! That fucker murdered him!” says Mr. President.

“Yeah, he's a monster.” says the Darkness.

“Fuck off. You hated Pooky.” says Mr. President.

“I did. But I love you. Want me to ruin his day?” says the Darkness.

I drop my pizza.

“No.” says Mr. President. “Fuck, I don't care if Mars is independent. We’d probably fuck it up, running it from a different planet. Make them write a constitution. I don't want it turning into some fucking corporate thunderdome whorehouse. Wait a minute... Did you just say you love me?”

“Yes.” says the extremely dangerous fun-size cutie.

The Darkness advances. Mr. President backpedals, stumbles on a chair, sits down hard. The Darkness slips onto his lap, Santa style. She gently takes his head, leans into his neck, inhales deeply. Shivers. Exhales.

“Let’s have sex.” says the Darkness.

“Uhh… what?” says Mr. President.

“It’s time. I’m ready.” She reaches down. “So are you.”

“Uhh…” says Mr. President.

“Thing is, I’m quite shy. I’ll need a little privacy.”

“…what?” says Mr. President.

“Turn off the cameras.”

I’m sweating. So is Mr. President. The Darkness is very cool.

“No?” says the Darkness. “Truly, it’s my loss. Curse my bashful nature.”

She stands. Smooths her sundress. Smiles. Leans in and gives him a peck on the cheek. Leaves.

He sits. Thinks. Starts drinking. I do too. I look over at Agent Happy. He’s somber, quite unlike himself. I may have fucked up date night.

I shake it off. Rally. Turn off Mr. President’s search for reality. Turn on some music. Light a joint. Smoke quietly with my gentle lover. Slip onto his lap, Santa style. Gently take his head, lean into his neck, inhale deeply. Shiver. Exhale.

“Let’s have sex.” I say.

“Okay!” says Agent Happy.

“It’s time. I’m ready.” I reach down. “So are you.”

“Yeppers!” says Agent Happy.

“Thing is, I’m quite shy. I’ll need a little privacy.”

“…okay?” says Agent Happy.

“Turn off the cameras.”

“You have cameras in here?” asks Agent Happy.

I ravish him.


About the author

Doctor Zero


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