After significant experimentation, and the use of a mechanical 
throwing arm, the segments of the dartboard have produced the 
following injuries: 


* Slight finger pain in the right hand. 

¢ An immediate tension in the shoulder muscles 

¢ A minor headache. 

¢ Aslight rash on the left ankle, treatable with normal anti-rash 
over the counter creams 

A strain of the tendons in the right knee 

* Ingrown toenails for several months 

¢ [DATA EXPUNGED] 

Slight swelling of the left hand 

¢ A fever for several days. Treatments are ineffective at 
breaking it. 

Rupturing of the blood vessels in the sinuses, leading to 
heavy bleeding from the nose. 

¢ Rupturing of a blood vessel in the upper chest 

* Strain of the Achilles tendon 

¢ Laceration of the esophagus 

* Herniated disc 

¢ Dislocation of the right shoulder 

¢ A portion of the lung becomes punctured with a rib 

* Cranial swelling 

* A fracture of the tibia 

¢« Acompound fracture of cranium 

¢ Anon fatal aneurysm 

* A fatal heart attack 


D-24461 stood back up, still angry. “What do you get, exactly? 
You’re not the one down here playing Dial-a-Flavor on this stupid 
phone a thousand times.” D-24461 stared at the camera, wishing 
she could look him in the face instead. 


“You’ve been doing that for a couple months, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ve been cataloguing the results for three years now.” 

“Oh.” She sat back down on the table slowly. “That sucks.” 
“Yeah.” 

Neither of them spoke. D-24461 broke the silence. “What’s your 
name, guy?” 

“My name? | really shouldn't be telling you that.” 


“What, like that’s gonna hurt your precious data if | Know your 
name?” 


“Well, no. But-“ 


“But what? Come on, I'll start. I’m Francesca, but everyone calls me 
Frankie.” 


“Alright, alright. I’m, uh, Jonah.” 


“Jonah?” Frankie, D-24461, laughed. “What a white kid name. So 
what’s your whale, Jonah? What are you hunting?” 


“Jonah wasn’t hunting a whale. God sent it to swallow him up to 
teach him a lesson.” 


“Huh, really? Who am | thinking of, then?” 
“Ahab, probably. Moby Dick.” 


“Right, right. | never paid much attention in Sunday school. Or 
English class.” She frowned. “Well, what lesson are you getting 
taught, then?” 


“| wish | knew,” Jonah said. “But it sure feels like I’m in the belly of 
the beast now.” 


“You and me both, man.” 


They were silent for another minute. This time, Jonah was the one 
who spoke. 


“So, uh, | hope you don’t mind me asking, but how did you end up 
here?” 


“What, like testing this crap? One of you people told me | could do 
five years here instead of twenty in the clink. Who’d pass up that?” 


“Wait, twenty?” Jonah sounded incredulous. “You weren’t on death 
row?” 


Frankie put her hands on her hips. “Hell no! What do you think | 
did?” 


Jonah hesitated. “I’m not sure. The higher-ups always told us that 
the D-Classes were all murderers, or worse.” 


Frankie laughed, a wild, raucous laugh of disbelief. “No way, man. 
I've never even held a gun. My man used to rob banks with his crew, 
and | was their getaway driver. Only reason | got thrown in jail as 
long as | did was because some idiot cop jumped in front of the van 
trying to stop us. Charged me with attempted murder of an officer. 
Can you believe that?” 


Jonah laughed nervously along with her. “I guess not. But what’s 
going to happen to you once you’ve done your five years?” 


“The spook that came to see me in jail just said they’d let me go.” 


“| suppose they could. They’ll probably dose you with amnestics first 
though.” 


“Dose me with what now?” 


The speaker screeched, and Frankie winced. Jonah must have 
knocked the mike over. There was a soft thump as it was put back 


into place. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” He was silent for a 
moment. “Oh, fine. If I'm going to get in trouble for chatting with the 
D-Class, it doesn’t make much difference. So, uh, amnestics. 
They’re memory-altering drugs. Don’t know too much about them, 
but they ought to be able to wipe the whole time that you're here.” 


“Now that’s some fancy shit,” Frankie said. “Shame though. 
Would've liked to tell my mom that | met someone in jail that wasn’t 
a complete asshole.” Jonah didn’t answer. “I’m talking about you, 
whale-boy.” 


“Oh! Oh. Thanks,” Jonah murmured. 


“You're welcome. Now, since you asked me, | get to ask you: How'd 
you end up with a shitheap job like this?” 


“Not sure. The Foundation recruited me straight out of my master’s 
and said that they were going to start me on some simple 
anomalous objects before upgrading my security clearance and 
putting me on a research team. Three years later, here | am, still 
doing the same thing.” 


“That really sucks, man. Doesn’t matter how secret the company, 
bosses just don’t want to give raises. | bet the bosses here are 
loaded, though” 


“Maybe,” Jonah said. “They’re pretty secretive. Most people don’t 
even know who they really are.” 


“Yeah? That’s wild. But | guess that’s what secret groups like you 
do.” 


“I guess it is.” 


Another pause, but this one was less tense, a natural pause in 
conversation. Frankie clapped her hands once, then sat back in the 
chair and picked up the receiver. “Alright, I’m ready to go at this 
thing again. Where were we?” 


Jonah clattered back to his computer. Frankie chuckled. “Um, we’re 
on 222-3613.” 


Frankie dialed the number. “Jonah,” she sung, mocking, but no 
longer angry. “That’s the wood again. Get your shit together.” 


“Shit, sorry.” 


“Ha! The white boy can swear. Alright, 3614, then?” She dialed 
again. “Oh, man, that one’s a burger! Finally a good one. Hold on, 
let me dial that a couple more times.” 


They strove on, dialing number after number. It wasn’t any less 
tedious, but perhaps, somehow, it was just a little bit better. 


A Place To Call Your Home 


It would be many, many years from now that Altruist-9 would finally 
make contact with EE-00059's location, which would appear, 
initially, to be a large waste of a trip. 


The Altruist-9 sat within the sky, scanning the area with billion-dollar 
sensors, floating in the endlessness of deep space. Almost 
picturesque, a feat of human engineering surrounded by stars on all 
sides. 


It didn't take long for the stillness of everything to be interrupted by a 
sudden and unexplained light. The light opened near the probe, 
expanding outward until it was massive in size, a great disk in the 
sky, presenting itself to the Altruist-9. EE-00059-2. The wormhole. 


Piloting itself inside, crossing the event horizon, the probe witnessed 
an experience that defies words. It happened briefly, in a moment, 
and then passes like a dream. Nothing else could be said about it. 


It wouldn't be long after that the Altruist-9 would deliver its payload 
of humanoid information and a single drone containing an advanced 
AIC known as "Buddy" to the one planet remotely close to its exit. 


Buddy is a six-legged, arthropod-structured drone capable of 
observing, storing, and relaying information for Foundation analysis. 


Unfortunately, all transmissions with Buddy.aic were lost upon its 
traversal into EE-00059-2. The technology capable of returning 
transport of similar probes was assumed to be unfeasible by any 
lifeforms on the opposite side of the anomaly. 


This was not really the case. 


Technology like this had existed for a million and a half years on the 
opposite side of EE-00059-2. Truth is, no lifeforms on the other side 
gave a flying fuck about the Altruist-9. It was nothing new. 


The wormhole that would go on to be defined as EE-00059-2 
ejected plenty of debris from other worlds. Things on the other end 
would attempt (and fail) to communicate with the trillions of lifeforms 
that resided and died on the place known as the Stack. 


It was ironic how little a difference something named the Altruist 
would seem to make on the greater good of any carbon-based life 
on that horrid planet. Existence there was hard enough. 


On the other end of an Ellis Wormhole, just a hop, skip and jump 
away from what we call Earth, was a small, barren planet of dust 
and deserts. It orbited a black body sun that, while rather dim, would 
burn the eyes out of any living being even remotely squinting at its 
surface. At the time of their arrival, this didn't matter. 


The human race was about to come to an abrupt end due to a very 
hateful star, and the planet on the other end seemed like as good as 
place as any to temporarily give relief to the four billion life forms 
escaping from the super-noval clutches of instant death brought on 
by one confused, edgy jerk of a celestial body. 


Although the people of modern-day "Earth" would have all but 
forgotten the destruction of their home planet, the loss of contact 
and the subsequent re-population of the other half of its people was 
complete. There, stories of what had happened would be passed 
down with significant recall that most would know quite well. It was, 
after all, their legacy that brought them there. 


Alone, free from both the evils of the universe and the Galactic 
Foundation as it was called that long ago, they learned to live and 
rely solely on one another. The lack of transmissions from the 
Hateful Star meant an era of peace that would go on to solidify their 
residence on the Stack. 


New Earth, on the other hand, would go on to be mostly successful, 
almost burning itself out on multiple occasions (and definitely on 
certain timelines, but we won't get into that.). Civilizations would rise 
and fall, paradigms shifted. History wrote and rewrote itself so many 
times that their origins would never truly be known. The people in 
the Stack did both better and worse as they developed far away 
from their brethren on the Blue-Green world of dirt and water. 


The Stack was named so due to it being immeasurably high and 
fucking cramped. Atmospheric regions on the surface planet were 
pretty hot, melting the flesh off of most things that dared to walk 
about during the perpetual, shadowy daytime of the tidally-locked 
planet. The Stack was located on the cooler side, and had grown to 
be loved and hated by its residents who had no other choice then to 
live out their days on their lonely new home. 


The Stack was built from most of the wreckage that didn't 
completely burn up on its way onto the surface of the planet. It was 
a hodgepodge, yet tightly wound community of beings that had little 
to do other than survive and occasionally eat one another if it came 
to it. 


It was miserable to say the least, with brief periods of beauty and 
wonder that broke free of the monotony of their daily lives. People 
inside the Stack were kept sheltered from the oppressive rays on the 
outside, only venturing into the wastes to haul debris and corpses in 
suits that only gave maybe first degree burns to their occupants. 


When the Altruist-9 had entered the nearby wormhole, its outer 
structure was pretty much annihilated on the way through. Its 
payload was covered in a thick thermal paste of exotic matter that 
resembled raspberry jam but tasted like formaldehyde and could 
strip paint off of most cars. Buddy was unfazed by this because he 
was what you would call a cold, unfeeling machine. 


Buddy.aic landed not-too-softly on the surface of the desert planet, a 
few kilometers outside the grey-silver walls of the Stack. After initial 
readings of the atmosphere, it was revealed to be nitrogen-rich, but 
lacked oxygen completely. Buddy.aic began its meandering about in 
the general direction of the structure with intent to find something 
new and exciting to report to its people back home. 


In the grand scheme, it only took Buddy a short while to find the 
towering citadel known as the Stack. Being solar-powered made this 
whole ordeal a breeze for the drone, which could sustain indefinitely 
were it not destroyed in one of many other fashions. 


Buddy.aic first had attempted to scale the walls of the complex with 


little success. Shortly afterward, it would begin following the 
perimeter of recycled debris until it found a suitable entryway. 


Circumnavigating for the seventh hour, Buddy was greeted by a 
gated fence that revealed a dark, dank hallway comprised of 
welded-together metal panels. The ceiling was low, with large 
patches of shadows that were interrupted by the occasional light in 
the distance. Buddy extended its front left leg, which split at the end 
to reveal its multi-tool hidden inside. A small pair of bolt cutters 
extended with a whir, the lone drone then going to work, snapping at 
links in the fence. 


Once a sizeable enough hole had been made, Buddy retracted his 
tool and climbed through with decent dexterity. Passing rapidly 
inside, the long hall appeared to travel forever, the walls too dark to 
reveal any number of connecting pathways. Buddy has slightly 
better night vision than the usual human orbiting the bright planet 
Sol, however, so about five meters in he was given an optional left 
turn into complete darkness. 


Taking a minute to decide on a path, Buddy.aic selected the 
preprogrammed route algorithm for base Euclidean labyrinth 
structures, following the left wall. The hall ended at a T-intersection 
rather abruptly, the right path becoming a set of uneven steps that 
ascended deeper inside. 


The drone continued left, which turned on a bend into a small room. 
However empty, it appeared lived-in, scraps of food and various 
unidentified tchotchkes littering the shelves and floor. Noises of 
talking can be heard briefly, gaining Buddy's attention who piloted 
his shell towards the opposite door. 


Passing the threshold into yet another hallway, light is seen growing 
from a connecting path. Buddy halts and recorded the presence of a 
large, biolouminescent creature resembling a jellyfish floating in from 
the right and continuing on left. It appeared unaware of the drone's 
existence, so Buddy reprogrammed his route to follow the creature, 
turning shortly after. This continued for some time until the entity 
floated and phaseed into the wall on its left, leaving behind no trace 
of its existence. 


Buddy picked up the sound of commotion up ahead and proceeded 
to travel onward. 


In the room up ahead, the space widened out, expanding and 
turning into a large workshop. A dismantled vehicle resembling a 
snowmobile lied in the corner, propped up on blocks and near a 
garage door which presumably led outside. 


Creatures of varying size and shape appeared to perform various 
tasks. The noise of commotion and machinery pervade the space. 


The drone piloted itself to a pair of feet, apparently belonging to a 
middle-aged humanoid laying under the propped-up vehicle. The 
figure didn't see the drone until a while later, its camera lens focused 
intently on his shrouded form. Cautiously, he started to push himself 
out from underneath, a look of confusion on his tired face. 


"Hello, | am Budady.aic. | come on the behalf of the Foundation and 
humanity." 


Amusement ran across his visage. When he spoke, the language 
was strange but familiar, closely resembling that of the alien 
linguistics taken from the broadcasts heard thousands of years prior. 
Pausing for a moment, Buddy allowed his internal Rosetta Stone to 
translate the foreign words. 


"Humanity? What humans are you talking about? Ey, Trey- Get over 
here and look at this!" 


"What is it?" 


"A little bot just came inside 'on behalf of humanity’. What do you 
think of that, Trey?" 


Emerging from the back room, another rugged figure comes into 
view, tall and lanky, wiping his calloused hands on a greasy apron. 


"Must be confused or something. You're talking to humans. Nice 
digs, by the way." 


"Hi, | am Buddy.aic." 


"You said that already."