I took a shot of my Nova Reserve Whisky and slammed the glass down on the bar. "Why the hell am I even bothering with this?" I muttered. "I don't give a damn about the royal family or their drama."

I checked my reflection in the mirror, running my fingers through my wavy red hair and tucking it under a beanie. I didn't want to stand out in the crowd of gossip-hungry spectators.

"Why do people care so much about things that don't affect them?" I asked my AI assistant, Maven.

Maven played "People Are Strange" by the Doors in response as if to say she had no clue. "Just enjoy yourself tonight and try not to be a total buzzkill," she said.

"Thanks, Maven," I said, "transfer the song to my earpieces." Then, as the music hummed in my ears, I downed the last of the whiskey, bracing myself for the inevitable onslaught of royal family mania, and headed out the door.

The crowded corridors pulsed with heat and sweat as I walked through the crowds of people. The scents were overwhelming, ranging from cheap perfume to the stench of desperation. Yet, despite the chaos, I moved with a sense of purpose, the beat of the music in my earpiece keeping me centered.

As I passed, the people around me seemed to move slowly, as if suspended in time. It was as if I was observing them from a distance, detached and aloof.

Every living being in this place was out for themselves, hustling and jostling for every credit they could get. They were savages, willing to cut down anyone in their path if it meant getting ahead. The only thing that kept them in line was the constant surveillance we were all under.

I stopped in front of one of the moving security systems, watching as it scanned each person waiting for the elevators. It reminded us that, even in this chaos, we were never truly alone.

My living quarters were conveniently located on level 4, near the primary levels. As a result, I only needed to take the central elevator to get to the primary level, which made navigating the space station a breeze.

But sometimes, I needed a change of scenery. So that's when I'd take the lateral elevator to the outer ring, where I could walk around and enjoy the stunning views of our neighboring planets and the sea of floating asteroids. It was a welcome break from the monotony of daily life and a reminder of the vastness of space. And how meaningless most of this crap is. As I exited the elevator, I recognized a face immediately. He had a long thin beard and half-moon spectacles.

"Bowie!"

He was the only person I would bump into and want to talk to on my cycle off.

His smile emphasized his wrinkles. "Carson! You must come down to the shop today. I have many new things to display," he said enthusiastically while gesturing to the large sack hanging off his back. Something about the visual struck me as funny. We headed back toward the elevator.

"Say no more. I'll be there," I said, smiling.

Bowie's eyes twinkled as he spoke. "My source told me I could have the wheel of the 'Curiosity' roving Mars in the Earth's 21st and 22nd centuries! It could be in a museum if it's true. I trust this particular source, so I'm sure this piece is authentic."

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

I was amazed. "That's incredible. And what about music? Anything new?"

"Hmm," Bowie hummed in thought. "Yes, I've got a few new records in stock. There's one called 'Fleetwood Mac,' another called 'The Clash,' and then there's one that I might not put up for sale: 'David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust.'"

I couldn't help but grin. Bowie always had a knack for finding the best treasures, whether they were relics from the past or new releases. "Jackpot!" I yelled.

"Are you hun-" Someone tried cutting in between Bowie and me, and we all collided when I closed the gap. They dropped a bag, and many strange items fell out, mostly what looked like old journals.

I bent down to help pick some up, but the hooded stranger snatched a journal from my hand, quickly scooped up the rest, and sprinted.

Some of Bowie's things fell out of the bag he was carrying. So, I helped him gather them carefully.

"How strange," Bowie says. He looks flustered.

"Yeah, they came out of nowhere!"

"Well, I must bring these things down and open the shop. Don't want to miss the rush of Theist travelers passing through." Bowie said.

"How long are you going to keep the shop open this evening? I was thinking of sneaking away and grabbing a couple of those new records," I said, eager to add to my collection.

Bowie's face lit up. "Surely I can stay open until I see you later on. And if you can bring some extra business my way, all the better!"

I grinned. "Who knows, maybe I'll be able to convince a few others to join me."

Bowie reached out and pinched my chin affectionately. "You're a good man, Carson. I see good things coming your way."

I put both hands on his shoulders. "I'll see you tonight," I said before we turned and headed in opposite directions.

I looked around, catching my bearings after the hooded stranger's sudden and intense encounter. I couldn't see who had bumped into us, but they had been in a hurry. That much was clear. I rubbed my chest, feeling a bruise starting to form.

The station was excited, reminding me of the night our Nexion Team had won the Titan Championships six cycles ago. I didn't remember much from that night, but I knew the station was still recovering from the wild celebrations. We had almost broken the airlock in our frenzy.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly caught up in a crowd, swept up, and carried along toward the taproom.

As I struggled to catch my balance in the crowd, I overheard snippets of conversation around me. A woman in front of me was talking to her friend. "Where do you think she could be?" she asked.

"I heard she was kidnapped," her friend replied.

"No way," the first woman said. "Rumor has it she can't stand the suitor her father picked for her to marry. So, she ran."

I pushed through the crowd as best I could, eager to learn more about what they were saying. But the flow of people was too strong, and I was carried towards the Celestial Café Corridor.

Desperate for information, I pulled out my Vision Cast and called Link, hoping he might have some answers. Whatever was happening at the station was causing a stir, and I had a feeling that I wasn't the only one trying to get to the bottom of it.

I managed to duck behind a soup vendor on the Celestial Café Corridor, seeking refuge from the chaotic crowd. Unfortunately, the steam and aromas from the booth made it challenging to focus.

"Where are you at?!" Link's voice crackled through my Vision Cast.

"I just got to the Corridor. I'm almost at the Taproom," I shouted, hoping he could hear me over the noise.

"She's gone!" Link's voice slurred, the sound of a drunk man.

"What? Who's gone?" I asked, feeling a sense of dread rising in my chest.

"Princess Mira. Nobody can find her. The Royal Family is going crazy," Link replied.

I was stunned. "Are you serious? That's insane," I said, standing up and accidentally knocking over a vat of soup. Hot liquid splashed everywhere, making a mess.

Cursing under my breath, I tried to wipe the soup off my clothes, but before I could fully process what was happening, a man speaking a language I didn't understand hit me in the face with a wet towel and started shoving me. He demanded that I repay him for the soup I had spilled.

Frantically, I searched for my credit distribution identification, but it was missing. Finally, panic set in as I realized I was practically a ghost on the station without it.

Desperate to escape, I broke the man's grip and ran towards the Taproom, rolling my ankle. The man cursed at me as I fled and called for security.

As I limped towards the safety of the Taproom, I started questioning why I had even left my room in the first place.