@Amber9364 finally fucking sent me the chapter so yeah kudos to him. Yeetus skeetus fetus deletus lets fucking go.
Reminder that this fuckload of crap is nOT written by me, @LightBlonde_Latte, it is instead written by my enemy (we're secretly friends but no one tell him).
He's @Amber9364 and we're co-writing this story— taking turns with chapters. If you check out his account you will find an unverified nothing, so really don't bother.
Good luck reading this, and have fun. Unlike me he doesn't write over 10k of banter.
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Looking out of his own office window, Nathan saw a simple view that every human populating Earth sees every day: a beautiful star shedding its light against a bleak world.
Yet somehow, even more bleak was his office. With way too many stacks of paper piling up from his procrastination, he feared for the little time he had to work on them.
Being a moon colony director and organizer, Nathan both fucking hated and loved his job. Managing a colony on the moon? A life-long dream. Actually working to keep a colony on the moon fit to live in like a normal city on Earth? An actual nightmare. Stacks and stacks of shipments, supplies, and literally everything else boring in the universe was sitting on his desk at the moment.
He honestly wondered why NASA hadn't fired him yet.
Being the procrastination overlord he was, Nate was getting off work early in order to spend time with his best friend, Alyssa. Otherwise known as Lys, she was one to be feared on several levels.
Hm... he might as well try to get some work done.
Scooting his chair back over to his desk, Nate grabbed his trans-screen and flicked his wrist to play another episode of The Office. For a show aired over two thousand years ago, it held up against the test of time. Not unlike Lys, he had a strong preference for the old music and shows.
Speaking of time, the world was eerily similar to how it was thousands of years ago— just decades after the Cold War. You would naturally assume that the English language would change over the course of two thousand years, but apparently not. It's just... the same.
With the exception of advanced tech and appliances, the terminology and slang saw to no drastic difference in style. The human race may have been in a bad state, but most things about the general people stayed the same.
Why were these thoughts crossing his mind? He had no clue.
"Work, Nathan," he said to himself. Picking up a folder, Nate opened it and examined the contents. A report of what supplies where low in the colony. Things such as this were easy to deal with— just shoot an email to the Suppliers and they'll handle it. He set it down. Next.
Population. NASA is requesting that he provide a valid theory and idea to increase it in one steady spurt, nothing more.
Nate shrugged and sloppily wrote, 'I don't know, make them have more sex.' It was simple enough, and as valid as he was going to get.
Next.
Petitions. Okay, what terrible ideas did the colonists sign for this time? 'Make toilets on the moon bigger!' Uh, no.
The next one read, 'Get your dirty hands off my DVR, mom.' Seems like there are Impractical Jokers fans up there.
'Rename Feinstar to New New Orleans?' Honestly, Nate was completely fine with that. The sarcasm of it was great, and the original New Orleans was his home town so he loved the city, and would definitely go for the new name.
