Well Done

The tired soul took the elevator down, his jump suit moving with the motion to hit the elevator buttons. Always hard to see through the high-polymer plastic viewing place located in the front of the suit, he is used to it by now. Wearing the thing from office to home was necessary to survive the harsh, red, atmosphere.

It’s the job, he thought to himself, as he crossed the makeshift street. The street itself consisted of metal rods that served as markers down the sides, throughout all of the less than a half-dozen buildings. He only needed to walk past 2 until he was home.

There were others walking around in that mid-day redness. His white suit with purple stripes contrasted with the multitude of colored suits around him, his own designating himself as a programmer.

He entered his building, a classically themed thing. He stared up at the bust of a 4 armed figure. At the last moment, he glimpsed the plaque at the bottom, The Might Bellum.

He used his bottom set of arms once arriving to his apartment, one for pushing the door open, and the other for turning the knob. His upper arms help his briefcase, a silver metal contraption, wrapped around the left.

Sleep came quickly.

———-

Bang-

A solid thud came as he lay sleeping, wearing black night robe and standing in a sleeping posture in his sleeping pod. As was normal for any sounds in and outside of the pod, the doors opened. It was the last thing he remembered as large hands came from either side, one covering his mouth with something foul, and the others taking control of his four arms. He had only the use of one arm and he flailed much as he could, before nothingness.

————-

“Good morning,” said a voice, “or at least I think it is. Is time the same on this death trap?”

“Yes, it is sir,”

He could barely understand the conversation as his vision came back in a groggy fashion. But, he knew the voice, and as he looked in that direction, he knew the face.

“Y-you?”

“Yes, me,”

“I-I’ve done everything you asked,” he said to the human, a 2 armed creature, adorned in black spandex from head to toe. He was with another 2 humans, although they were standing in the corners.

“Have you?” Said the human, sitting down in a chair as the 4 armed programmed sat on the ground.

“Yes! It is ready, I was just coming to see you?”

“Well, there’s no need now.”

He began to cry, attempting to use his four arms to brush the tears away from bulging eyes. But they were fastened to some sort of bolts in the solid earth.

He was in a supply tent.

Nobody has access to these, except...

“And where is the finished work?”

“In my suitcase I was carrying home, it is in my home! I can show you, please!”

A thought came to him, and he cried harder. This was the job, and he’d done it well.

What is going on?

The human did not disappoint the fear as he turned and made a gesture to the other two humans. They seemed to explode, as if imploding, before any trace of their existence disappeared.

“Holograms?”

The human grinned, as his own face started changing, inch by inch, the hologram fading. The face was different, someone he’d never met. Not the man from the official delegation.

“Yes.”

The human snapped, and the form lost consciousness again.

“Yes, holograms. Well done.”

It was the last thing he heard.