///Incoming Transmission\\\
///Sent From Nome Station\\\
//NeuralNet ID Shawn Evans\\\
The image of a man sitting in the cock pit of a ship appears on the screen.
It is apparent by the unkept stubble of his beard and dark rings surrounding his eyes,
that he hasn't slept in some days.
His hair has not seen a brush or a good wash in what may be weeks
and the leather flight suit he has on is stained and well worn.
"Hey I didn't know which one of y'all was in charge, or uh who needed to get this message.
So I'm just sendin' it to every Xeno Alliance frequency I can find. He laughs sounding more like a wild cackle then anything else.
I just got outta 'the walls' down there in Texas yea?
There was this guy in there, always going on about the Alliance.
Said y'all are organized, an tellin' stories of raiding parties against foreign workers.
I got let go from Deep Space cause its cheaper to hire foreign workers to make everything,
ain't matter that e'erythin' breaks in twice the time it did when good ol' Liberty works made everything,
guessin' that's one a the other benefits of foreign workers, e'erythin's breakin' an people gotta buy more.
The ol' boys in 'the wall' said you fight to keep Liberty work in Liberty, settin' blockades up against foreigners,
I been tryin' to do a little a that myself, but ya can't do a whole lot when you ain't got a group of folks to help,
bit of company ain't a bad thing neither, nice to have someone to talk to while fighting for Liberty works,
and ya ain't gonna get much conversation outta a twenty-five year old piece of plastic.
The electronic voice of the computer can be heard.
Actually Mr Evans, my components are made of mostly metal alloys and optical fibers and chips.
And while the ship is approximately twenty-five years old,
my AI was installed seven years three months one week and five days ago by the previous owner.
His faded blue eyes seem to fill with a piercing rage as he yells
CAN'T YA SEE I'M BUSY HERE?!?! SHUT THE HELL UP YOU FREAKIN' PIECE OF TRASH!
He pauses a moment to light a cigarette and recompose himself slightly.
Sometimes it takes e'erythin' I got not to set off an EMP and wipe this entire system.
The voice of the computer kicks back on again
Actually Mr Evans, my hard drive are equipped with anti-EMP shielding, however setting an EMP of wou-
Shawn pulls out a revolver and begins firing rounds into the com center causing the transmission to be cut short
Discordianism: the Schroedinger's Cat of religions.
