A person who was lonely, severely depressed, and thought they had nothing left to live for, saw the colorful vest of Mr. Sunshine and begged the man to kill them. Mr. Sunshine got the person tied up and carried safely to therapists. Then proceeded to find out why this person was self-destructive and... deal with it. -- The New Guy
[AN: Offensensitivity warning for the most severe form of self-harm, also cogniscent trafficking]
Stuart was tired of being terrified. Ever since the bright light took him away during Sky-Time, he had been afraid. He had initially thought he was in heaven until the demons showed up and the little fluffy angels told him to fight them.
This was no heaven. It was no hell, either.
This was, regrettably, the same existence he had been living in since he first drew breath. Which meant that there would be a price to pay for everything. That's just how life was on StarHut Incorporated[1].
Food cost money. Sleep cost money. Anything related to medical care could send someone into debtor's management for the rest of their lives. Women had it slightly easier. Deliver a living baby and they could pay off the cost of their pregnancy and a bonus if the kid didn't have any diseases. But that was just one more kid paying off their childhood to the Grand Glorious CEO.
These... creatures told him that things were free. He could have free food in the correct places. There was free accomodation. Free air, especially planetside.
Everything was frightening because of that.
He was sleeping too long. Eating too much. Being a worthless freeloader since the fluffy creatures were forced to set him loose. He had to make decisions for himself daily. It would be so much easier if someone else took charge.
It would be so much easier to have a quota. A goal. A time limit. A boss. Anything familiar.
There was only one thing he could have for free on StarHut Incorporated, but only because they couldn't charge you once you were dead. Honestly, being ground up for cropmeal sounded pretty good right now.
Nothing more to worry about.
Further, he would be useful and feed some of the other resources in the factories. That would be... good.
Stuart kept wandering, looking for a way out. The airlocks had too many safety features. The guards everywhere had stunners and breaking the law here was nothing like breaking the law back home. First, they kept you alive here. Secondly, they kept you healthy. And then they helped you be a better citizen.
It was baffling, but there was one other chance. Stuart kept looking for them.
There! The very specific hazard colours of a member of Pax Humanis. The Galactic Alliance's designated killers. They did what the rest of this vast mess were too squeamish to do.
He was drinking tea, looking as harmless as Morning Gruel. If it wasn't for the coral-snake colours on the sweater-vest, Stuart might have passed him by. Stuart knew the rules. Let them see you approach. Smile a lot -that was not a problem- and don't make any sudden moves.
He looked like an accountant, what with the vest, the pince-nes spectacles, and the demure bowtie. He looked so meek that he would step aside for other meek people to inherit the world.
"Can you be helped?" he asked in civilised tones.
"I know what you are," said Stuart. "You're one of the Killers." He said this in tones of blessing. Because knowing a Killer was the one thing he needed most.
"Mister Soon-sheen-eh," he said, sliding across a small card with a lot of incomprehensible details that Stuart could not read. He could read, Sunshine.
Oh. It wasn't pronounced how it was spelled. "I need a death," he said. "Just one. A mercy killing."
"Those are not cheap, either. The good news for anyone on collection duty is, that I am very neat. I can make it quick, clean, and painless. Who is the suffering loved one?"
"It's me," said Stuart, putting his bag of weird alien money on the table. "I'll take whatever this can pay for. Whenever you're ready."
Mr Sunshine raised an eyebrow. "Ah. One of them." He looked to his attached guard, who nodded. "Very well." He took a Five-Minute[2] coin from the mess. "This payment is sufficient for the procedure. Thank you. If you would kneel on the floor with your hands behind your head, please?" Mr Sunshine finished his tea.
Stuart knelt as directed, feeling at home already. Would it be brief? Would it be a moment of heat and then sweet relief?
It was restraints on his wrists and ankles, and then being lifted up onto Mr Sunshine's shoulder.
"Hey!" Stuart looked around. The bag of weird alien money was in the hands of the guard. They were headed towards the Medical Intervention Centre. "What the hell?"
"Seeking self-elimination is a sickness, dear Cogniscent. I am taking you to immediate help. For a very slight assistance fee."
"How much is this really going to cost?" Stuart started weeping. He would be working for the rest of his life. As soon as he could figure out where the punitive workforces were kept.
"Medical services are supported by the taxes of Galactic Citizens," intoned Mr Sunshine. "We give our time so that you can have all the time you need."
It would be a long and arduous therapy, and a confounding time in a very padded habitat. Eventually, Stuart would learn that the Alliance was nothing like his home.
Eventually, he would be glad of that fact.
[1] The corporation bought the entire polity. In brief, it's a Deregger world.
[2] When the Galactics say "Time is money," they really mean it.
[Image by Content Pixie on Unsplash]
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