dear_mun | (no subject)

[~~Take care of him, not-Sam. He needs someone to watch out for him.~~]

From what I remember, there wasn't much of a space program back then.

[Technically, that's what the real Sam remembers but that's semantics.]

So what kind of weapons do you make?

[~~HE WILL BUY HIM ALL THE WOOD TO CARVE~~]

The president got rid of NASA, but you can't stop science. It marches on! As long as there are people of intelligence who want to reach out—sorry, I get kind of. Uppity about it.

Ah, nothing like WMDs, I assure you. I supply for the American government, mostly. We've got a war to fight and all.

[~~YOU ARE A BRO. Or maybe that should be a cousin.~~]

Tell me about it. I get uppity too.

[He still hasn't worked out that pesky temper problem yet.]

What war? Are you winning?

[~~Definitely related somewhere down the line.~~]

Ah, well. They call it the war on terrorism. The aftermath of 9/11, it just...continues. Good for business, bad for the world. I don't know if anyone's winning at this point, to be honest.

You've still got a job, right? That probably means you're not losing. That's something.

Yeah, I've got a job, trying to keep weapons in the hands of the good guys so they can blow the hell out of terrorists. It's a bloody mess, but it's served me well so far.

Someone's got to do it, though, right?

Yeah, somebody's gotta do it.

You're probably better off working for the government anyway. They're upfront when they fuck you over. The companies aren't.

Yeah, but when the government fucks you over? You may as well be dead, because they fuck you over in every way possible.

In three years, I probably will be. Planned obsolescence. It's built right in.

I don't think there's any phrase or word for how abysmally shitty that is to know.

In any language.

Least there's some of us out there that've got it better, right?

Sure, but that doesn't seem like it'd make a real big different by the six month mark.

Of course not. But it's, shit, it's all we got. That and Gerty the talking the robot.

Do the best with what you've got, you mean?

Yeah. Something like that.

Listen, Lunar Industries ever offers you a job? I don't care how much you want to go into space, tell them to go fuck themselves.

[This just gets sadder.]

Yeah, you don't have to worry about that. Ever.

[Such is Sam's shitty, shitty life.]

Glad to hear it.

[All the Sams have shitty lives. It's like they were programmed to have—

...whoops.]

So...where are you going from here, you think?

[Thanks for rubbing it in, not-Sam. Thanks heaps.]

I don't know. Get a life?

[Is that a joke? He doesn't know. Maybe. It could be.]

[He didn't mean to!!!!]

I meant, like...here. Memes or games or all that fun shit. Stay away from PSLs, though, they're terrible.

[Not convinced, not-Sam. Not convinced.]

Why? What's wrong with them?

[How can anything be worse than his life already?]

[Not-Sam-but-face-Sam SAMCEPTION]

Er...it might depend on your mun, who they play you off of. [God, play. Sounds fucking miserable, not that he'll say that to this fellow because that is far too insensitive, even for Justin Hammer.] Could be good or could be mortifying, horrific.

Maybe you really should let yours get back to the other guys, considering your, uh. You-ness.

What's that supposed to mean?

[That sounded like an insult. He's not sure if it was, but he's touchy enough to take anything the wrong way.]

The other guys are assholes.

[Pot's kinda calling the kettle black here. Shh.]

Your life sucks, everything about it sucks. So if you have a mun who banks on heartbreak, that might be all you ever end up doing, brooding about possibly dying in three years and never getting to do anything else.

Sounds like you know her.

[Sadly, there's nothing he can do about it and he knows it.]

It's only three years, right? At least I've got that, if she puts me through too much shit.