Chapter 12

 

Chapter 12: The Twist

"A TIE!" The Critic announced, causing reality to hiccup slightly. "For the first time in cosmic history, we have a tie!"

Both planets erupted in confusion. Emperor Cannibalus's tentacles tangled themselves into knots of bewilderment. The geometric representation of buyer's remorse somehow managed to look even more disappointed than usual.

"A tie?" President Doom-Harbinger asked. "How can there be a tie in competitive self-destruction?"

"EARTH," The Critic explained, "has perfected the art of spectacular despair. You have turned suffering into a grand opera of existential dread. It is magnificent, terrible, and deeply entertaining."

"And Mars?" Colonial Administrator Bleakworth asked with the tone of someone who expected disappointment even from victory.

"MARS has achieved something far more disturbing," The Critic continued. "You have made suffering mundane. You have stripped despair of its dramatic pretensions and reduced it to its most basic, horrible essence: everyday disappointment. It is... profoundly unsettling."

Professor Futility stepped forward. "In my professional opinion, both approaches represent peak achievement in their respective categories. Earth offers 'Apocalypse as Entertainment,' while Mars provides 'Despair as Lifestyle.' They are incomparable because they serve different cosmic palates."

Madame Entropy nodded her approval. "I concur. Earth's approach appeals to entities who enjoy their civilizational collapse with theatrical flair, while Mars caters to those who prefer their existential dread served neat, without garnish."

Bob, the judge who was apparently just there for the snacks, raised what might have been a hand. "Also, the catering was excellent from both planets. Earth's 'Crystallized Panic' was perfectly seasoned, and Mars's 'Plain Suffering' had a beautiful simplicity to it."

Emperor Cannibalus was clearly struggling with this development. "BUT... BUT THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE SUPREME SOURCE OF COSMIC SUSTENANCE!"

"Actually," said The Critic, "this opens up exciting new possibilities. What if we established a regular circuit? Earth could provide weekend entertainment for entities seeking spectacular self-destruction, while Mars could offer weekday programming for those who prefer quiet, persistent misery."

Dr. Pestilence, who had been quietly observing this entire cosmic bureaucratic disaster, raised her hand. "Excuse me, but doesn't this mean humanity - and I guess Mars - has essentially become a cosmic tourism industry?"

"Exactly!" The Host announced with the enthusiasm of a game show announcer who had just discovered a new way to monetize suffering. "Welcome to the Cosmic Entertainment Circuit! Earth and Mars will be the flagship destinations for what we're calling 'Apocalypse Tourism!'"

President Doom-Harbinger looked at Colonial Administrator Bleakworth via video link. For a moment, representatives of two planets stared at each other across the void of space, united in the realization that they had somehow turned the end of civilization into a business opportunity.

"So," President Doom-Harbinger said slowly, "we're both going to be running competing apocalypse theme parks for cosmic entities?"

"Apparently so," Administrator Bleakworth replied with the resignation of someone who had just discovered that even victory was disappointing on Mars. "Though I suspect Mars will be the budget option."

"NONSENSE!" Cannibalus interjected. "MARS WILL BE THE BOUTIQUE EXPERIENCE! EARTH WILL BE THE SPECTACULAR BLOCKBUSTER! THERE'S ROOM FOR BOTH IN THE COSMIC ENTERTAINMENT MARKET!"

And so, in what would later be remembered as the most anticlimactic resolution to an intergalactic competition in history, both Earth and Mars found themselves in the business of professionally destroying themselves for the amusement of beings from beyond human comprehension.

Jenkins looked up from his tablet, where he was now working on Volume Three of his increasingly elaborate memoir. "So we're not extinct, we're not conquered, and we're not free. We're... entertainers?"

"The best kind of entertainers," Dr. Pestilence replied. "The kind that get paid to do what they were going to do anyway."

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 13

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