stellarworld

72 3 0

by BEETLEBRA1NZ

by BEETLEBRA1NZ

(trigger warning for language, mentions of guns)

(enjoy, folks)

If there's one thing I fear, it's live TV.

Okay, that, and like, spiders. And heights. And aliens with space guns (which I may just have to deal with). But live TV is pretty bad.

Actually, TV in general is bad... for multiple reasons. One: all the shit your parents tell you — "Your brains'll rot out!" — "Your eyes'll go blind!" — "You'll lose all your self esteem!" — is unfortunately true.

Well, actually, my brain's been pretty okay — and I'm pretty sure that was confirmed when all those doctors ran tests on me — but the rest is accurate.

Two: reality television is a load of shit. This reason works with the self esteem reason.

Three: being on it is scary. I'd always thought that it would be, but never had my fears been justified. Now they would be.

I was going to be on live TV.

What if I said something stupid? Then everyone would think I'm stupid. And I'm not!

These were my worries as my face was powdered by the chick on makeup duty. See? They always make a big deal about TV. They fly you in, doll you up, put a big screen in front of your face with the stuff you're supposed to talk about and an even bigger camera. Shit's freaky.

Television is already hyped up, but it's hyped up even more when two topics come up. One: important stuff. Politics stuff. Scientist stuff. Changing-the-world stuff. Big stuff.

Or, unfortunately, commercial stuff. Come here! Buy this! Spend all your fucking money!

My case is both commercial and important. I'm talking about space — planets have been deemed fully suitable for human life!

And after we came together, joined forces with other countries' space programs to research these life-supporting planets... Japan fucking claimed them and now we've bought them for a shit ton... no, a fuck ton of money.

Why?

So the government can make fucking hotels and profit off of them.

They're calling it "Stellarworld." And I've gotta advertise for it.

Now, you'll definitely think I'm crazy when I tell you that selling out isn't the least of my problems. I also have to go those galaxies, inspect the planets, and make sure they don't fucking kill anyone.

Yeah, we said they were deemed 100% perfect for people, but maybe they have aliens with space guns (as I mentioned earlier).

And all of this is going to be recorded for my second least favorite thing (after live TV — remember?)... TV.

Obviously, they've gotta review the footage first. Censor all the times I drop an F-bomb (already six times have I said the 'fuck' word in this chapter — make that seven), make sure I look like I'm having the time of my life... and of course, if I die, Stellarworld will start looking a little less like a rich family's tropic resort and more like actual fucking (seven, now) space. 'Cause that's what it is.

So, anyway, I'm going on live TV, then to a space resort, and finally on Just TV (can I trademark that?).

Here goes nothing.

The audience cheers. The show's host probably just said my name. I can also tell that because I'm being shoved onto the set right now.

I sit down on the couch across from the host's armchair 'cause I'm supposed to.

"So, Dr. Iero," says the host, "tell me about Stellarworld."

She sounds so amazed by the name "Stellarworld."

The world's been brainwashed and I'm the only survivor.

(do you like this? want me to get to the fanservice already? gimme a vote or two and i'll think about it)