Remind me why you’re here? Right, to wreak havoc on the world because you want to dominate it. Why?
It’s not the first time visibility has been limited here. They’ve told me it’s been a consistent problem since the factory imploded.
Isn’t she lovely?
I haven’t been reliable. I hope in a few years there’ll be a change.
She told me I’m not welcome here anymore last night. Pack my bags and leave, she said, except accompanied by far more expletives than I’m willing to mention.
Some skins are harder to shed than others. I mean that for myself, of course. There are many people in this galaxy who the statement is literal for.
Millennia had passed since humanity ventured past the safety of Earth’s atmosphere. Time is fuzzy for the newest generation of spacefarers, with cryosleep and relativity.
I live on a planet where the galaxy’s junk goes to be reborn, or die. We’re the Trashyard Folks, or trashies. Flattering, I know.
It’s a truth many can’t deny that I need space travel like most need air.
The rest of humanity left centuries ago. Our leaders had an argument before their departure, so the drifters didn’t keep in contact.