Nanotrasen...........

There's always plasma. There's always traitors. There's always...

Fucking Nanotrasen

The company what done it, all of these space stations 13 out there, the one you work for, presently, here, in the good ol' year of 2053.

Many different origins, many different logos, but always, always one name and one purpose: the extraction of "plasma" in whatever form it takes, and the exploitation of the labor of an endless supply of disposable spacepersons.

Sure was a lucky break they got what with that whole moon business. They wouldn't be a tiny fraction of the company they were if it wasn't for that. Really makes you wonder what's up.

Did they invent plasma? Did they discover... rocket ships? What's the deal with the guns? Are they actually truly evil? Oh yeah, 100% maybe, as if that matters here. I wouldn't worry about it.

But listen, buds, they sign your pay checks just as they charge you a convenience fee for them to sign your paychecks, and you didn't get out while the getting out was good. The confusion wore off and the new status quo got welded right down in place. You're stuck here, just like the rest of us, and your shift's about to start.

You gotta* go to work and do your job since you are CONTRUCTUALY OBLONGATED basically without any other options, here. It's just another day, calcified in all ways but what kind of horrible thing is coming to blow you up or eat you.

Given the Channel's collapse, you might wonder if there are there penalties for fucking around. Corporate sanctions. Personal Improvement Plans. The answer is: not really. You're a warm butt in a hot seat and you're keeping NT's numbers up and looking good for the reestablishment of communications that is set to take place any day now. But your coworkers might hate you because they need power, or produce, or medical treatment, and you're trying to be a stand up comedian or something.

Let's be real: all of NT's goon squad was stationed Earthside. The Frontier was not for living, it's for working. It's why your commute between your job out here and your shitty apartment back on Earth was FTL via wormhole. That's also where all the bureaucracy is- the suits out here can make all the paperwork they want, but sole approval rests with HQ. And there's nobody sending a message out that way being heard within your short, repeated lifetimes.

Conversely, are there fabulous prizes to be won for WORKING HARD and DOING GREAT? Like promotions? Or even a plaque, or a fancy pen? No, idiot!!!!

The prize is the same as it always is, more work and responsibility for the same or less pay. Just like it is in the less-awful timeline. Or the even more awful timeline: (IRL)

But the real reason you do it is because maybe it makes your other work pal's life easier. A buddy who might hear that you're in trouble over the radio and come to aid you. A buddy who might look the other way if they've gotta start killing people, and you've been good to 'em. A buddy who might get up to some good or funny trouble, and you're the first one that comes to mind when it comes to somebody to bring in on the gig as a partner.

So hey, if this is some sorta purgatory and nothing you do matters, maybe everything you do matters? Make some human connections within this godforsaken corporate hell mess. Even if that human is actually a ferret.

Everyone's gonna die some time, and there's nothing you or any of us can do that can change the greater social or material conditions, but what you do within them, with each other, that's up to you. That's the whole point.

See ya round, spacer.

Some Chump
Esq.