DUMBies
Dyson Spheres & Deep Underground Military Bases
My mother said it was called the Sun.
She swore it was the same as the stars on my ceiling, except it was a circle.
A sphere.
The Strangers made it disappear one day. Sometimes we send probes topside to see the swarm. Our scientist says it might be a battery, but that’s just her best guess. They’ve been saying that for centuries. The educated don’t know anything. That’s why they all reside in slave class.
Living in an underground biosphere isn’t so bad. We get to ski on the second level in the summer. The Bush-Bezos Community Standards Board designated me a sex object when I was seventeen. Being branded has been an eternal blessing. The other male mules would kill for my position, but I’ve won every cock fight so far.
Down here we call that DUMB Luck.
Things could always be worse. My sister Melissa works in meat processing. They tend to bring their work home with them. Her appointed procreation partner Steve had a very particular smell. Impotency put him on the permanent chopping block.
I’ve sired seventeen children so far.
Sperm was the only thing saving my skin until we found the spaceship.
Turns out the Strangers aren’t the only extraterrestrial intelligence in town.
Our donation was buried deep below ground. Boring brought it to the BBB’s attention a few months back. Everyone in the biosphere had their brainwaves surreptitiously synced to the space capsule to see if they might be the key. I possessed a surplus of untapped psychokinesis. A single palm pressed against the exterior finally opened the door. Manning the cockpit required nothing more than my own cognition. Its power source was a synthesized supernova.
The Strangers would finally see the light.
Let this recording serve as my final will and testament. I savor the role of savior. A successful mission means certain death, but I have made peace with my own demise. I was destined to serve this biosphere to infinity and beyond.
Today is my last day on Earth.
Tomorrow, I’ll take us to the stars.
