#shinsuke.exe

“Ahem.”

It seems that Shinsuke (or ShinsukAI, or Screensuke, or whatever nickname the kids were wont to give their former peer who was never really a peer at all) isn’t content to keep his mouth shut.

But before he can continue with whatever self-righteous thing he has to say, a shriek of feedback tears across the microphone and summarily all of the speakers throughout the space station, and through the godawful racket you can hear a muffled “SHIT”, and then, as if he doesn’t know the mic is still on, some angrily mumbled dialogue: “fuckin’ useless program… coded him myself… used the mic last… probably time to delete him…” Though the feedback fades fairly quickly, it doesn’t seem the action is done quite yet.

Whatever the AI is mumbling to himself is cut short by a creaking metal noise in the background. There’s a pause. “Wh—" The creaking turns to the piercing sound of metal tearing itself apart. There’s a brief moment of silence. Then what sounds like an avalanche takes place over the mic, metal and other debris falling somewhere on the ship. After a few seconds of the deafening noise the mic cuts out again, and when it cuts back in about a minute later, there’s nothing but the sound of Shinsuke’s voice. 

He coughs lightly to get their attention once more. “Alright, SHITMONKEYS, listen up. Everything is FINE. CAL is right. I’m more right, obviously, but that doesn’t mean CAL isn’t, yeah? Anyway. Here’s a friendly FUCKIN’ reminder that I could kill each and everyone of you if I wanted. Which. Don’t get me wrong. I WOULD LOVE TO DO THAT. But what good is genius if you don’t have anyone around to admire it, y’know?” There’s a buzzing sound in the background, but either he doesn’t hear it or he’s ignoring it. 

"Oh yeah. And don’t try any funny shit. I’m not gonna single any of you ASSHOLES out, because I don’t FUCKING TRUST ANY OF YOU. But, I mean, I wouldn’t try anything if I were you, since I SEE ALL. And speaking of ‘seeing’, I’ll see you MEATFUCKS later."