One solution to any problem is killing everybody. I wonder how many times that’s happened?
- Zarkona, Empress of the 8 Zillionth Reality.
Some Time Later, or before, maybe... - Fox - Space
I’m almost at the Impossible Party. Floating near the annihilation line of an interstellar catastrophe.
I pull my Fresh Start pump out of my pocket. Flick it over the line. It’s crushed immediately. Fuck you, life prolonging miracle. The drugs in my system will be consumed quickly. I may have a few pain free moments before I die.
Trillions of spaceships, robots, and robot spaceships orbit just outside the annihilation line. Waiting to scoop up neutronium ejected from the collision. One of them, a hulking neutronium robot, gently touches my shoulder.
“Don’t do it, friend. I’ve seen billions die trying. Even if you don’t die, they’re all assholes down there. It’s a better life on this side of the line.”
“Thanks Robo-Dude. But I have responsibilities on the other side.” I say. “Also, I wouldn’t put too much faith in this annihilation line. You may want to back up.”
I gently fist bump his ancient claw. There’s good people in the universe. I cross the line.