Millennium Symphony

Space can be an empty place and every bit as vast, and whenever you chance upon people—and they seem to be everywhere—you generally find them to be as they’ve always been, insufferable.

This is something Sam had thought more and more lately. And why he was drinking, quite heavily, in a bar, on an asteroid, on the edge of one of the most posh and uppity solar systems in the local group.

What he found even more intolerable about the place was the sentient creatures in it. They, as with most who dwelled in the posher and well to do systems, seemed to constantly turn their nose up at the others. As each claimed the others a cheap thief knock-off of its style. Each deeming itself the centre of whatever the current and briefly lived hyper fad seemed to be. But all things being equal—which they certainly were not and had never been, or seemed they ever would be—drinking with a working local gave him some sense of equity.

Though something had been gnawing at him since he arrived. Why this asteroid or this bar or this hotel, of all the asteroids and bars and hotels? Why the hell had it been decided that this was the coolest lump of rock in a three hundred lightyear sphere. Especially considering all that seemed to exist on that lump of rock was a small string of hotels and pleasure centres of the type the rich would have hidden long ago. Though space offers a lot of places to put despicable things.

And more so, as Sam looked around that bar, he wondered how the hell the staff manage to pay for their lives out there. Being that they certainly couldn’t afford even one drink in that bar, let alone to stay in the hotel. And more so still, when the hell did the term bartender devolve into ‘drink slave’, and on thinking it Sam was hoping they were not just that.

These thoughts seemed to be travelling in circles in his mind. Though they only seemed to hold true gravitas in proximity to paying what was once the equivalent to a small countries GPD for drinks. Though Once all was said and done, many things weighed less in space; including those things loaded heavily atop one’s conscience. Then realised it was how he ended up there in the first place, even if he cared not to admit it. He had not randomly wandered in off the street. And no matter how he tried to add it up he found he couldn’t quite do the math, literally.

Though his recently acquired drinking buddy wasn't going to help much with those sorts of ruminations. As he definitely had his own agenda. If you could call it an agenda. So, Sam sat there unperturbed as Godrick, a heavyset, filthy and thickly bearded drunk jabbed and pointed accusations at him. Not believing a word of his tail. Though Sam hardly cared and enjoyed the game of not caring. The two seemed to be play a dance of pretension over the top of the other.

“Ha! I don’t fucking believe you” blustered Godrick through his filthy brown, stomach length beard. Sam noticing a curious looking child’s locket of tarnished heart shaped gold hanging below his neck.

“Well its true, no matter what you believe”

“Fuck off, you’re a liar kid”

“I’m no liar, just because you’ve a small imagination”

“Fuck you small, I’ll squash you!” laughed Godrick and continued, “You little lying fucking, fucking, fucker”

Sam patted his belligerent friend on the shoulder and said in a condescending tone, unable to stop looking at the locket but not thinking to mention it,

“Like to see you try you bruised old fuck. I know what you thought the moment I caught you staring. You’re just disappointed”

“I can snare better game than you, you little brat” Mocked Godrick, slamming a hand on Sam’s back and laughing before continuing, “I still don’t believe a word of it, there’s no goddam fucking way!”

Godrink then leaned in, Sam was hunched over the bar on a hovering stool sipping a three-hundred-year-old whiskey. It’s price per glass set higher than the yearly salary of the bar tender. This was due in part to the drawn-out death of the crew who had recovered the crate. They had retrieved it from Earth; a dangerous game that left all involved with a lethal dose of radiation. But so was the pirate’s life, or so Godrick had said.

Sam felt a little sick with himself for buying it. So, he skulled his glass, as did Godrick, and ordered a round of something even more expensive and blue. He figured ‘what the hell if I’m going to hate myself may as well do it with style.’ The two sipped their drinks and each held the kind of look you pull when you’ve drunk a liquid not deemed safe for a human consumption. They looked at each other shrugged and skulled the remainder; it tasted like whiskey (if it had become self-aware and just realised you had been sleeping with its mother, and more so, you were about to move in.)

They ordered two more.

“Two more bar slave” Sam yelled over the din of tendril covered creatures wearing business suits and humans in one-piece leather tuxedos, that seemed to bizarrely and uncomfortably reveal the strangest version of cleavage. Sam felt his a little too tight and revealing, though no one else cared.

“Sir! Address me as drink slave, please in good taste. Now, now, now” Said the bar tender curtly yet almost silently. Godrick found this funny for some reason which Sam could barely fathom, and so he just nodded silently to the bar tender in capitulation. Godrick broke into an enormous guffaw and slapped Sam on the back again. “Good lad” yelled Godrick, who had early attempted to hack into Sam’s brain via the hidden heart shaped device in his beard. But, as Sam was technically over a thousand years old, had refused to have his brain rewired. Even though it was currently deemed good taste in that particular posh arm’s tip of the galaxy, he wouldn’t have a bar of it .

“Doesn’t matter, no implant no brief hack, hey hey!” Said Sam with a smug grin.

“Well I still don’t believe you anyway, you’re a goddam liar” Chuckled Godrick.

“Don’t look into my eyes, just hear my voice you fat fucking fucker”

Sam then placed a hand on the scruffy man’s sweaty forehead, for him to scan, and said,

“See! Over one thousand years… for what it’s worth”

“Shit”

“Yes”

“Oh shit!”

“Yes”

“No”

“Um, yes you fucking swindler” nodded Sam with a laugh which was returned by his jovial and belligerent companion.

“Kid, you look in dam fine health for one thousand twenty-five terrestrial’s standard”

“Thankyou” He said as the bar tender brought them two steaming drinks with a tiny floating robot in toe, and said,

“Compliments of the shared dwelling of remuneration”

“Thank you, drink slave!” Sam responded offering what he thought was good taste. The bar tender nodded in appreciation and took the briefest lust filled glance at Godrick. To which Sam scanned up to look at the grubby pirate—in his oily sleeveless t-shirt, smelling of thousand-year-old onions; a vegetable that no longer existed—perplexed, and said,

“What was that?”

As Godrink, who to the bar tender looked like a rather attractive tall slender creature with purple tentacles where hair should be, said in a sweet tone,

“Most kind... receive my compliments in return for remuneration”

“You have money Godrick?” Asked Sam who only saw Godrink as an oily overweight space pirate.

“Ha... no but they will only know that once I’m the hell out of the devastating shit well” Whispered Godrick. Then they slammed their drinks and the acid in the glass started to melt their tongues and the roofs of their mouths. Though in the most pleasurable way imaginable. And before the damage could become irreparable the little robot hovered over and repaired their flesh and DNA with a soothing particle beam. Then with a few friendly bleeps and chirps it requesting a tip. Sam tipped it actual currency knowing if he didn’t the next time it may not be so quick to act.

“Two more drink slave!” Sam yelled over the din, pumping one fist against the faux cedar counter and holding up two fingers on the other. Godrick banged his hand in unison and said,

“Well goddammed be my whittled fucking bones you little cunt”

“Yes” Sam sighed, “A thousand years on a satellite orbiting a dying planet. Something of a waste really. Never could you imagine it, just watching such a shit show”

“Well fuck that then...wait wasn’t it your idea anyway” Blustered Godrick

“My thoughts exactly” sighed Sam.

“I’d rather live this shit life” Laughed Godrick.

“My thoughts exactly” he sighed again.

“Shit life? I saw what you flew in on” Countered Godrick with a look of disgust, to which Sam attempted defending himself—suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable in his revealing leather tuxedo.

“I watched Earth’s civilisations progress and then collapse over and over again, across a millennium, my consciousness slowed. Caught watching as they just did the same shit over and over again. My thoughts and sensations hyper linked, it was a mess man”

Godrick laughed at this while sticking the locket up his nose and said with a menacing smile,

“Yeah but I saw what you flew in on”

“It’s meaningless” responded Sam, while thinking of his faster than light Audi Pi Alpha, parked in space dock. Knowing it an affectation of a suddenly old man. Thinking money doesn’t make up for character; which is an easy thought to have when you’ve got a lot of one and given up on the other.

“Want some” Godrick said pulling the locket from his nose, a tube retracting into it “It’s sterile you know. Hits you quicker”

“Fuck no”

“Your loss, you morose fuck. Anyway, what happened?”

“What?” Sam said, suddenly caught inside his own head.

“What happened you goddam weepy fucking baby. What the fuck do you have to complain about. This stuff is great, you should be proud of yourself!”

“I thought I could create something real, a symphony that when played would bring the human animal to the understanding of a thousand years in a moment. A new overview effect if you will. Of a planet breathing”

Godrick laughed so hard at this statement that he almost couldn’t stand. And Sam sunk into his drink feeling hard-headed while a lot foolish.

“I wanted to bring people together” Sam lamented in a deflated whimper.

“Yeah and now you drive a fucking Audi Pi Alpha. What have you got to complain about, you little fucking...” No profanity existed that could explain his amused derision.

“My symphony was a thousand year’s work man, Jesus, the resource alone...”

“Like I said dam good stuff”

“You’re all sticking it up your fucking noses!” Sam yelled, as all heard, and no one cared.

“What do you care. Your richer than any artist in the history of stupid fucking artists” Blusters Godrick and Sam caught his reflection in the mirror. ‘A thousand years too young.’

“What is it about experiencing inverse temporality that seems to get everyone so fucking addicted” Asked Sam, feeling like the worst kind of pusher.

“That’s the best bit! you’re a genius. Come on, you weepy little fuck. What do you say?” Said Godrick beaming a smile while holding up two fingers and pouting his lips in Sam’s direction.

“drink slave, two more irradiated whiskies” Yelled Sam, suddenly caring little for the implications of living in a universe, he now had proof, was in fact truly devoid of meaning.