Ryan Random leaned against a holographic palm tree in the Sulphur Springs Sector, watching a sentient cloud of neon gas try to haggle over the price of a pair of non-corporeal socks at Payless Tentacles. It was a Tuesday in the Clover Cluster, which meant the geothermal vents were pulsing at a frequency that made Ryan’s teeth vibrate.
Nebula Norris drifted over from her shift at El Pluto Loco, tossing a lukewarm bag of Asteroid Nuggets onto Ryan’s lap. Her third arm was currently sticking out of her lower back, using a tiny squeegee to clean her sunglasses. She looked bored enough to start a supernova. Ryan asked if she’d seen the manager, but Nebula just shrugged her three shoulders in unison, claiming she’d been too busy fighting a customer who tried to pay with expired lunar minutes.
Dover, currently in his compressed accordion mode, clattered up to them on his handrails. He let out a long, metallic sigh that sounded like a dying tuba. He told them he was contemplating a permanent Out of Order sign because a pack of toddler-sized hive-minds had spent the morning using his steps as a slide for their acidic slime-trails. Being a sentient escalator was an upward struggle, he lamented, and he was tired of being stepped on.
The tranquility broke when Mr. Meankinder stomped into the plaza. Mr. Mean’s head was bright purple, screaming about a thermal leak in the wine-dimension annex. Mr. Kind’s head was simultaneously trying to offer Ryan a commemorative keychain, while Mr. Er just stared at a nearby fountain, wondering if water was a liquid or a feeling.
Ryan didn’t move. He pointed to a small, hand-written sign he’d taped to his belt. It read: Scheduled Maintenance. He explained to the three-headed manager that the leak wasn’t a leak; the local sommelier had just left the pressurized cork unscrewed on a bottle of Nebula Noir.
As Ryan took a bite of a nugget, the ground groaned. The mall’s gravity shifted forty-five degrees. Customers began sliding toward the Bed, Bath, and Way Beyond event horizon. Ryan sighed and grabbed a nearby railing.
“Just another slice of life,” Ryan muttered, watching a disgruntled Dover slide past him toward the abyss. “Hey Dover, while you’re down there, see if you can find my paycheck. I think it got sucked into the upholstery.”
(This story created by a California earthquake on July 30, 2026. Magnitude 2.7 – 18 km NNE of Upper Lake, CA. https://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/eventpage/nc75408977/executive)
