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Station of Despair. Final Chapter
"Does what sound interesting? I didn't hear nothin'" Nathan says without even turning his head from the arcade game he's playing
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I think I'll go to the bar for a drink. Upon arriving noticing the broken glass and man stowed away I just sorta lay my head down on the bar with a thunk.
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I have a nice farm going on in the Garden, with the owls.
good owls.
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Mr Handsomes produces a glass from his clutterred workspace and places it on the bar. It is filled with an amber-colored fizzy liquid, and smells lightly of yeast. The glass begins to frost.

Without making any eye contact he goes back to work, cussing under his breath about a spray bottle
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Literally having no idea on what to do Jonathon waddles towards the bar to get a nice drink.
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lorenzo blessig goes and walks arround the station unethuesiacticly
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Getting it fixed himself didn't seem worth the effort...Adam decides to walk into the bar to take Handsome up on his offer.

Going in he makes sure to check for a couple of things...

Let's see...uh...okay, I think there were two in here...one right under the bar table on the customer side...I'll take the seat right next to it. Even if someone in here tries something...

No. That kind of thinking is gonna cause distrust, and that's dangerous when nothing happened. There's no reason to think anyone would try anything like that. Taking the offer on the mystery box is the stupidest thing you can do.

.........wouldn't hurt to be safe though.

"So you think you can get it sewed before I leave here? The less time looking like I.........spent time in a bar, the better."

The irony of the situation isn't lost on Adam.

"I'm thinking of running some trust exercises. People are less likely to do something stupid if we think it would rip away something we care about. Any ideas?"
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Irene limps her way into the bar and plops down at a table far, far away from everyone else. She starts rambling relatively incoherently about "safety standards" and "easily accessible medical equipment". She doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. Lord, she likes to talk.
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"Well I don't doubt that Borgo Malfoy is serious about this whole whatsit."

Dan snaps the match in half like an idiot. Shrug. She pokes the broken thing to her cigarette and it lights anyway.

"Thing that gets me is that the stakes are so... low. A billion credits? I've *had* a billion credits. Several billion. Engineers aren't good at keeping their bank accounts secure."

She takes a drag of her cigarette. Mmm, guacamole!

"Know what it's got me?"

She thinks, avocado seeping into her lungs.

"A lot, actually. Drugbelts, drugs for the belt, that thing that goes through wires and lets me pal around with Carl and his magic space armor..."

Like a fiesta in her alveoli!

"But even with all that, here I am. Billion credits ain't gonna change that. Neither is whatever it's got in the bar."
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"Huh. Sounds...well, we shouldn't underestimate it. If the patterns are any indication, it's just going to keep piling on promises until someone does something stupid. Not to mention that not everyone's been lucky enough to have a billion credits to waste in their lifetime."

Let alone 15 billion...

"The only way to overcome this is to get everyone to trust each other and be friendly. The robot will stop trying eventually if we don't do anything."

I mean, it has to, right? Doing the same thing and expecting different results is the literal definition of insanity after all. Even if it was programmed to be crazy, it still has logic to work with.

"I suppose I should get around to learning names properly then...Phoebe? Or is it Marcy?" His paper seems to be a complete mess.
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Johnathon asks if anyone has seen a creepy looking book with skeletons on it.
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Irene had left the bar about an hour after visiting and returned, looking... smug? Regardless of facial expression, what she wanted remained the same. A vodka tonic, which she orders with a self assured snort.
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Large once again breaks from his chem dispenser and scoots to the alcohol dispenser, producing two pitchers, one of beer and another of sangria. Conspicuously, the umbrellas are all in the beer pitcher. At the bottom. Ew. They're unceremoniously placed on the bar with a hard thud.
*burp*

He returns shortly to the chem dispenser, then back around to Adam, placing a pair of drinking glasses before him.
"There's your key. Twice"
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After waiting for a answer for about 5 hours he stands up and leaves heading towards the bedrooms to lay down and think about his life choices.
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All this guacky tobacky is working up an appetite.

"CHEF, NACHOS!" Dan bellows kitchenwards.

Achem.

"Don't kid yourself, 'bots ain't got nothing going on nine times out of eight, ya know, laws and all. The moment something makes them even a little special, they ain't gonna give it up, like, at all."

"I mean I've been here for, what, half a day or something? And already I wanna slap the stupid outta half the crew. Think about what they're feeling, and they can't even backhand nobody."
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