Zeo Genesis Travelogues
Greetings, star-nomads! You can call me Trev. (You can also call me Trevallion Franklin-Ridgeway III, but I’d rather you didn’t). I’ve left behind my shallow executive existence to explore the Hundred Suns, to re-connect with insignificant voiders just like you. These are my travels. You’re welcome.
“We’re traveling aboard my latest spaceship-cum-submarine and I am hungover to funt. Rex, however’s...close to dead.”
“I think Rex Clavin’s reappraised me, though. He pegged me as a bumbling toff born into privilege—absurdity! Recently, in a makeshift triage center, I saved a life before him. It wasn’t solely my doing; Rex did offer helpful suggestions. His opinion of me has risen. Conversely, Rex’s expressed no horror at wasting the last known Uuhpyores Sake in the process, so my view of him has fallen.”
“Rex’s been dealt an atrocious hand in life, despite doing much good. Life isn’t fair, so it’s up to humans to make it so. Thus I’m showing him the stars!”
“Last night, aboard my latest vessel, we got deep into Rex’s favorite tipple, Winston’s Gin, traditionally straight and lukewarm in ceramic mugs. His stories are incredible. For example, years back, he was living on Ciitriis, which was undergoing an ever-less-soft authoritarian coup.”
“The recently established Federal Investigative Regime Enforcers, F.I.R.E., had been abducting anyone ‘suspicious looking’ for interrogation about links to criminal activities, extending to non-authorized public expression like ‘insufficient grieving.’”
“In the short time I’ve known Rex, I can tell you he’s not the sort to support that kind of thing. Hates it. So much so that upon seeing a F.I.R.E agent at the same fuel station as him, Rex was unable to prevent his arm propelling his freshly bought pipefruit sandwich at her face. His aim was good, but so was hers, and unfortunately, she had a stun-ray.”
“It was six days until Rex’s friends finally discovered where he was, and that was only thanks to an obscure law that hadn’t yet been repealed. You can be sure it has been now. Rex’s cell was barbaric, as was his treatment by F.I.R.E. goons.”
“Outside, however, Rex’s friends in their civic utility zeos had led a growing protest. Over four days, the crowd grew until, finally, Rex was released—in a governmentally face-saving way, naturally.”
“Rex was right off of that rock and ended up on Ceto. Cannily, he enlisted in the military, making it practically impossible for F.I.R.E. to track, never mind extradite, him.”
“But that’s why he drinks so much. Haunted by the ghost of Ciitrus, he’s wracked by the guilt of not staying to battle for a nation still fighting the forces of fascism.”
“Stay zippy, star-nomads…”
These journals were recorded via Tymphony Aural Augmetics… TAA: Listen Up!
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