I freeze, wishing my eyes are deceiving me. Eyelids actuate, blinking several times in unseeing disbelief. This can’t be possible. It just can’t! I pinch my arm pain mute against the dullness of my soul. There is no avoiding it, not with that trashy octopus tattoo and its small blue rings on his neck. I’ve always hated that tattoo. Worse, I hate it more when Ashley’s perfectly manicured nails cover it. She’s even wearing our ‘best friends forever’ necklace, a half of a broken heart. How fitting.

There is no mistaking the two people I know best in this world, nor are there any misinterpretations of what they’re doing on top of each other. Clothes are on, but that doesn’t hinder Ashley’s gyrations. The slut is riding my boyfriend, while his tongue is playing hockey with her tonsils.

On a purely cognitive level I’m impressed at her flexibility. My mind’s pitiful attempt to shut out the trauma and process something. It doesn’t work.

My mouth hits the floor still not open as wide as theirs —oh gawd, where are their tongues going?!– alongside the cookies I baked. It took me all night to bake those lil buggers, most of that time spent shaping them into protoss pylons and cute banelings! And now they’re crumbs. The sound of tupperware bouncing does nothing to disturb my roommate or my boyfriend, if anything, it encourages deeper passions. I want to puke, to disappear from sight, to cease existing. Fly into the sun and vanish from disgust. Throw myself down the six flights of stairs I just climbed to deliver my affection and tell Baz I was finally ready.

At least I hadn’t given him that. Like he would give a damn. Ashley will be his whore before I can reach our apartment. I want to scream ‘go fuck yourselves’ but fear that will only make it a reality.

My thoughts repeat down the stairwell, across campus, and into my dorm room. The one I share with Ashley the whore and two other girls. Our apartment consists of four total rooms, a kitchen and common area, the bathroom, and our two bedrooms, one of which I share with Ashley. Making us the closest of roommates.

“Oh for fuuuuckkkssake!” I cry, burying my head in my pillow and screaming.

How am I going to look her in the eye? I need to get out of here, finals are over, they finished last week and the only reason I’m not on a lake retreat with mom and dad is cause my now EX-boyfriend Baz wanted to spend time with me. The asshole.

“Hey, is that Athena?” Says a voice in the next room.

“Sounds like she forgot the sugar in those cookies…”

“Again? Bummer, they were so cute. Should have had Ashley help her. She just loves baking.”

A door squeaks open, and one of my neutral roommates knocks twice on my open door, more to announce herself than to ask permission.

“Hey Thena, some guy from the college offices hand delivered this letter for you, it’s all official looking and like, addressed specifically to you dude.”

I know it’s Savannah, the Cali girl. She’s a sweet blonde, but I want none of her cutesy freckles or dude-bro-ness today.

“I’m not a dude.” I snap.

“Sorry, its like, gender neutral.” She says, entering my room and placing the letter on the nightstand I share with the whore.

Why would you do this to me Ashley? And with Baz! Of all the people WHY YOUR BROTHER?!

NO! She is the last thing I ever want to think or hear about again. There is a two week break between final exams and the next semester starting. Plenty of time for me to get out of this whorehouse and find a new apartment! Maybe the letter is an invitation to the Dean’s list or something. Summer semester is weird, students take one class at a time but its everyday for a few weeks. They call it learning by immersion. A style that didn’t work well for me. Fall and winter terms I passed all my classes with flying colors.

Shaking hands grasp the letter, going clammy. I’m trembling so badly that fingers slip and tear the letter right down its center. The college’s fancy seal is ruined, so much for showing this to mom.

“Christ Athena, can’t you even open a letter?” I grumble, tears already welling in my eyes.

If I start crying now, I won’t be able to stop before Ash-Whorely gets home. Hatred steadies my hands, allowing me to piece two letter halves together.

—

Notice of Academic Probation

Dear Athena Finley

This letter serves as an official notification regarding your current academic standing with [University Name]. Our records indicate that your cumulative GPA of .5; has fallen below the minimum threshold required for satisfactory academic performance as outlined in the College of Engineering’s guidelines. As such, you have been placed on academic probation, effective immediately, until such time that your GPA exceeds a 2.0 and you are, once again, on track for graduation. Until such time as your GPA improves, all scholarships are suspended.

Academic probation is a structured period during which you are expected to improve your academic standing to meet the necessary requirements for continued enrollment in your program. During this probationary period, you will need to adhere to specific guidelines designed to support your academic progress and ensure your success in the program. Failure to meet the minimum standards listed below by the end of this period may result in further academic action, including but not limited to suspension or dismissal from the university.

You are required to meet with the [enter colleges name]’s dean to discuss potential improvements. We strongly encourage you to consult with your academic advisor to develop a comprehensive plan for improvement. This may include recommended study resources, academic support services, and a suggested course load adjustment to better support your academic goals. Our institution remains committed to helping you achieve success, and there are numerous resources available to assist you during this probationary period…

—

“What…

the…

FUCK!”

They were putting me on academic probation for failing summer school? These cunts didn’t even have the decency to fill out a form right! Who were they to ruin my life? I throw the letter and scream into my pillow. Pent up tears find an exit through my nose, snot leaking as emotions break through. How could this be happening? The scores from my finals aren’t even back yet! And I thought I did great! …

Shit…

You never do as well as you think on finals.

I must have flunked all of them. But this is only the summer term! Sure I failed my underwater basketweaving class over the summer, but that doesn’t count. It was a summer elective class meant to help me move in and socialize… How are they punishing me when I got straight As last year! Well, until Baz slid into my life with that cute aussie accent. AH! Why are they coming for me now?

Fukfukfuckfuckitycuckfucksucking!

How long I cried is a secret only my pillow knows, but my eyes were still wet when the bedroom lights flicked off. Across the hall I hear Savannah talking.

“Move to Utah you said, we don’t have blackouts like Commie-fornia you said!” Snaps Savannah, smacking her lips like she just applied a fresh lacquer of gloss.

She’s plastic as all hell, but I can’t help but smile at the sarcasm.

“Someone probably tried to run too many dildoes off the same breaker. Give it a minute.” Says our fourth roommate.

Faint buzzing fills my head, like there is a fly around my ponytail. I reach up to swat it, only for my hand to go limp. My eyes are closed, squeezing out the last of my tears, but I can see a blue window in front of me.

“Great, my bae- NO! EX bae! My ex cheated on me so hard I’m hallucinating.”

“Whoa. What is- … Hey Sav, did you put weed in our cheerios again-”

“No– I mean, I totally did, but Baz is gonna throw this wicked party–”

[HELLO PEOPLE OF– ah hell jim, what is this planet called again?]

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[Earth. Like it always is.]

[Shit, that last one being called Eden has got me all thrown off kilter]

The words are speaking into my brain directly, verbally and visually being displayed on the blue screen in English. Which does nothing to make the two voices sound less like Curly and Moe stooging up a storm. This is easily the worst trip of my life. I’d rather have a schizophrenia break than listen to this geriatric bullshit. Mentally I try and dismiss the message, receiving a red flash and slight screen shake in way of refusal.

“Great, the two stooges now have unskippable cutscenes.”

[HELLO PEOPLE OF EARTH! We represent your gracious overlords, the protectors of your spiral arm, and you are our planted children. I’m pleased to inform you all that you’ve exceeded all our expectations for a successful crop, which is excellent news for us both! Since your society will still persevere after our culling. Now I know that word has some unfriendly connotations to some of you, but our holy Singularity has devoted a great deal of resources in keeping your planet alive. We are only collecting a portion of what is owed. Think of it like taxes. We’ll be drafting everyone between the ages of twelve and forty two. Roughly four billion people who will then join our honourable warriors on the frontlines.]

Culling? Unfriendly connotations is right! That’s what we do to parasites or extraneous bits in a computer, not living breathing people! Wait, conscription? Taxes? This can’t be happening. Drafted? But, that means joining the military. Or uhm, space force. Who will we be fighting? It’s all too much to process. I go limp. They can’t take me if I won’t get out of bed. No interstellar wars for me. I’m not going to be drafted to fight an interstellar war?

I reach into the nightstand and pull out my high school graduation gift. A pistol, something of an oddball that dad decided I needed. It’s an older model, an FNX-9 with seventeen rounds of nine millimeter bullets in each of my three magazines. Dad said I needed protection in case boys weren’t turned off by my crippling addiction to Starcraft and for once, he is right.

No one is going to kidnap me. The pistol weighs my hand, slowing down my thoughts. Tempering the fire of wrath to a cold logic as we are forced to contemplate who to shoot. My apartment walls are thin, drywall and studs. This isn’t a good place to fight-

-Although, if the aliens take me…

I won’t have to share a room with Whorely anymore if they take me. Guess there are worse things. Part of me embraces the concept, eager to escape the cheating siblings. Really, who cheats with their blood relative?

[I see some of you are reacting poorly to this news. Arming those missiles will not prevent us from taking them. All nuclear devices will serve the Singularity well and be counted against Earth’s galactic debt. So you are only harming your own future prospects by launching them. Have no fear, if you comply peacefully then we will drop off nine gates that will allow instantaneous transportation to any continent, as well as to the two gates we’ve already left in orbit. Your sacrifice is the price of admission into the Holy Singularity proper. Once your back taxes are paid in full you’ll be a voting member of our union and warranted all the rights of citizenship. Your entire planet will be modernized as soon as we take the mining world of Syrak-9. All taxable proceeds will then be routed through your earth. Just imagine that, a stable universal income for the entire planet. Soon you will have all the modern amenities of nanotech, holograms, and instant interstellar communication. Welcome all. Now just sit tight, we’ll be teleporting all munitions, nukes- oh wow, you Chinese really went crazy with these, two hundred thousand nukes. Naughty naughty.]

By the tone of his ‘voice’ Athena could envision the announcer waggling his finger. Like they were some misbehaving little child. Quite rude, but not necessarily undeserved, China only publicly admitted three thousand nukes and signed treaties promising trade concessions if they restrained themselves to that number. It was a small factoid of my nuclear engineering class, a prime example of politics ruining any integrity engineers like myself should have enjoyed.

“A hundred times the treaty amount. Damn China, you made out like billion dollar bandits.”

An old saying comes to mind, mixed and mashed with two others. It’s only cheating if you get caught, but in love and war there are no rules, only the winners who are left.

[Cmon Haime, you’re butchering the announcement!] Snapped a second voice.

[Right right, oh where was I? Eh, doesn’t matter. Have your gates, we’ll be taking guns, bullets, nukes, four billion ish people and yada yada. You’ll be mindwiped and then flashtrained to fill in our gaps. If you find any of this disturbing, be sure to report to your nearest medical professional. We give them weekend trainings specifically on recursive mindwipes! Toodles.]

[HAIME!

DO IT RIGHT!]

[Okay, fine. Look here earthlings. I was once in your shoes and I understand how confused you must be. But the Novan Technocracy of Steel is about to seize this world. See that ‘of Steel’ part in their name, it’s not for show. They’ll lobotomize every last one of you, carve off your limbs so you’ll fit inside whatever toaster or dildo they need to be ‘smart’. Artificial intelligences rule them completely with zero human oversight or veto power. To them, we are nothing other than wetware. We need more soldiers to hold them back, not here, but on Syrak-9. Win there and the Technocracy won’t be able to fuel their ships and take this earth. Sorry.]

He paused, allowing the globe a few moments to process the message.

[You’ve got a shit choice. If half of you don’t bite the pillow and stop them, they will lobotomize you and everyone you’ve ever loved-]

If they started with Baz and Ashley I would not be opposed to that…

[-so the Singularity has received emergency orders from our military AIs and civil senate, a unanimous decision mind you, to prevent that from happening. I was drafted as well, this really isn’t a bad thing, just look at me now, Captain of an interstellar colony ship complete with warp drive and teleportation. Some will die, but most of you will become generals, pilots, doctors, and more. We even have a few million slots for colonists. Flash training will give you all the skills anyone could need. It’ll be like going to sleep and then waking up having gone through twelfth grade, college, and a trade school. Except you’ll remember your lessons. Really great tech.]

Nothing heralds the transition. Presumably Haime was beaming people into the hold while he spoke, distracting us with meaningless niceties while he plundered Earth.

Two soft thumps echoed down the hall, as if Savanah dropped her bowl of laced cheerios, but I was too distracted by the instant teleportation. One second I was laying in bed, wet faced, teary eyed, academic probation letter in front of me, and the next completely naked.

Slime coated my entire body in a moistness that gagged thought.

I gasp, inhaling to scream, only for warm fluid to fill my lungs. No, not warm, hot, body temperature, slightly salty yet subtly sweet, like a bag of boiled saline poured into Kool-Aid. Kinda tasty in a sweaty way. Glass surrounds me, I’m in a tube, naked. About to drown in whatever concoction they’ve isolated me in. My nostrils flare, inhaling a second time on reflex. I prepare for the end, wishing Baz and Ashley a similar fate. An echo of the announcement rises in my mind, drafting all ages twelve to forty two. Mom is thirty eight years young. She could be here too. Damnit. Seconds pass, I inhale again, but my vision is fine. My mind works. Is this death? Had the tax collectors killed us?

Why would tax collectors kill? We were the prize. It was like the IRS collecting your taxes only to put the bills through a shredder. Nothing made any sense. Then I realize waste is standard operating procedure for governments.

Amongst four billion people, I’m the typo.

Doomed to drown.

—

“Final jump portal launched. Geosynchronous orbit achieved.” Says the navigation AI, temporarily silencing all other readouts.

Diodes and alerts came back in a tidal wave. Beeping, honking, hooting, and all being ignored by the two pilots.

“Harvest complete.” Chimes an alarm.

A zephyr circulates around the cockpit, both pilots hunched over screens, monitoring cryopod readouts for any abnormalities. AI systems sort and categorize almost five billion human beings. 70% of the world was just hoovered up into space using rented teleportation systems. Angry beeping marks two hundred million people as unfit for any possible role within the Singularity. Too many trauma induced psychopaths.

“What did these people go through? Why are so many skitzo? Ah hell Jim, the most advanced country is the fatest. We’ll have to reject most of these worthless sacks of shit.” Haime says, more for the sake of bitching than for conversation.

“Who cares, we got a billion and a half more people than projections accounted for. A billion man! With a B! We can flush the outliers from the past twelve worlds and still exceed every quota for the next two years! Don’t you see it Haime, we’re rich! Hallelujah!” Jim shouts, unbuckling his harness and moving to leave.

“Abandoning station already? We ain’t even cashed in yet!” Snaps Haime, a frown slashing itself across his face.

“Bro, I’m just so excited! Even a dead world or the federales won’t break us. I can buy a new head of hair and a century of being twenty five! Gotta go inspect the cargo, see it with my own eyes, not just on sensors.” He gasped, feeling lightheaded under the assault of billions of credits.

Red warning lights suddenly blare, bathing the cockpit in warnings.

“Aw what the hell!” Jim snaps, jumping back into his seat and checking the sensor readout.

“A portal opening? We launched those seconds ago! Who in their right mind jumps to an uncharted backwater-”

More red lights appeared. Ships from twelve separate factions were already queued up, transiting through the gate in order of request and priority payments. Haime’s face hangs open, staring at the first ship to emerge.

“Jim, if we die–”

“Shutup asshole! Transmit our charter before they vaporize us!” Jim shouts.

Seconds pass as the sleek crystalline ship emerges from the disk of light. An Azhurai Conglomerate Corvette. Fast, armed to the teeth, and shielded better than most homeworlds. Oddly conical due to the main gun, a prismatic laser array capable of variable output, all the way from scrotum shaving precision to strength capable of peeling away the moon’s regolith layer like one would peel an apple.

“Charter has been transmitted. Please leave us alone.” Haime prayed.

Three lights begin blinking green as missile locks stop tracking the ship.

“Azhurai ship turning away, they acknowledge our collection duties as legal.” Gasped Jim.

“Thank the nameless!” Said Haime, collapsing into his chair.

A single light began blinking, a com channel. Jim shut his eyes, praying for a moment before answering the com. Two minutes later he spoke.

“Shit. Can’t get one over on the Conglomerate. They read our fine print and noticed our open charter.” Jim winced, struggling to read the next translation. “We demand first right of refusal concerning any and all special grade merchandise we have aboard-”

Blaring claxions erupted as twenty additional warships emerged from the portal. Swift Singularity frigates, lumbering moons the Technomancy call dreadnoughts, a swarm of bioships tethered to a single hive mind, and everything in between. Both pilots looked at each other, then got to work. Neither one wanted to catch a stray missile.

“Shields to full power. Broadcasting charter to everyone.” Said Haime.

So many warships above an uncharted world meant only one thing. War. One of those factions would conquer earth, or see it burnt to ashes around them. An easy task given how many guns, bombs, and people Jim had just pilfered from missile siloes and warlords. Now safely defanged in their hold. Instead of on Earth. Without ICBMs or Nuclear weapons these humans had no chance.

“Damn. Waste of a good world.” Said Jim, maneuvering the arkship behind Luna as the ships began firing. Half at each other, and half at the surface.