Chapter 5

 

Chapter 5: The Proposition

Emperor Cannibalus paused mid-slurp, a tendril of liquefied despair hanging from one of his tentacles like cosmic spaghetti. "A PROPOSITION? I DO NOT NEGOTIATE WITH FOOD."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, Your Infinite Tummyness," President Doom-Harbinger said, her smile containing the sort of predatory gleam that had once convinced an entire nation to elect someone whose campaign slogan was literally "Vote For Me Or Everything Gets Worse." "You see, we're not just food. We're... performance artists."

Dr. Pestilence shot her a look that could have powered the atom smasher. "We're what now?"

"Think about it," the President continued, warming to her theme with the enthusiasm of someone who had just discovered a new way to weaponize bureaucracy. "You've traveled across eleventeen dimensions looking for the perfect meal of existential dread, correct?"

Cannibalus nodded slowly, his eye stalks swiveling to focus on her with the intensity of a cosmic laser pointer. "YES... THE FINEST BOUQUET OF DESPAIR AND SELF-DESTRUCTION IN THE KNOWN MULTIVERSE..."

"And what have you found here? A static meal. A one-time dining experience. But what if I told you we could offer something much more... interactive?"

General Blastmeyer leaned forward, his hand instinctively moving toward his sidearm, which was adorable considering they were dealing with a being who could theoretically digest black holes. "Madam President, what exactly are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting we give His Imperial Magnitude exactly what he wants - but fresh, live, and continuously generated." She gestured grandly at the destruction visible through the windows. "Your Cosmic Magnificence, you said you were drawn here by the aroma of our impending apocalypse, correct?"

"THE MOST EXQUISITE SCENT OF CIVILIZATIONAL COLLAPSE I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED," Cannibalus agreed, accidentally complimenting humanity's dedication to creative self-destruction.

"Well then, what if instead of eating us all at once - which would end your meal permanently - we provided you with an ongoing feast? A subscription service, if you will, to the finest existential dread this universe has to offer?"

Chef Deathwish dropped his spatula. "A... subscription service?"

"Think about it," President Doom-Harbinger said, pacing now with the manic energy of someone who had just figured out how to monetize the apocalypse. "We humans are absolute masters at generating fresh despair, creating new anxieties, and inventing increasingly creative ways to make ourselves miserable. Why should His Hungryness settle for one meal when he could have an all-you-can-eat buffet that refreshes daily?"

Cannibalus's tentacles began to writhe with what might charitably be called interest. "CONTINUE..."

"We're already scheduled to destroy ourselves anyway," she continued. "Nuclear war at 4 PM, remember? But what if instead of one big bang, we spread it out? Made it... theatrical? A slow-burn apocalypse with multiple courses, each more existentially terrifying than the last?"

Secretary of Creative Self-Destruction Timothy Misery perked up. "Like a dinner theater, but with the actual end of civilization?"

"Exactly! We could stage different types of disasters on a rotating schedule. Mondays could be Economic Collapse Day, Tuesdays could be Nuclear Brinksmanship, Wednesdays could be Plague and Pestilence..."

"I LIKE PLAGUE AND PESTILENCE," Cannibalus interjected.

"Of course you do, Your Magnificence. And Thursdays could be Climate Catastrophe Day, Fridays could be Social Media Warfare, and weekends could be our special chef's choice of existential horror."

Dr. Pestilence stared at her president in a mixture of horror and admiration. "You want to turn human civilization into a cosmic dinner theater."

"I want to turn human civilization into the greatest ongoing performance of self-destruction in the history of the multiverse," President Doom-Harbinger corrected. "Think of the reviews! The repeat customers! His Imperial Appetite could invite friends!"

Cannibalus's eyes lit up like dying stars finding new fuel. "FRIENDS? OTHER COSMIC ENTITIES COULD WITNESS MY DISCOVERY OF THE FINEST DINING EXPERIENCE IN ELEVENTEEN DIMENSIONS?"

"Absolutely! Word of mouth is the best advertising. Soon you'd have cosmic entities from across the multiverse making reservations to watch humanity's spectacular ongoing collapse."

"We could charge admission," Secretary of Defense Blastmeyer added, getting into the spirit of the thing. "Make this economically viable."

"ADMISSION?" Cannibalus's voice rose to a pitch that made nearby windows crack. "YOU WOULD DARE CHARGE THE EMPEROR OF THE INFINITE REALM OF THE FAR FLUNG HUNGER?"

"Not you, Your Carnivorous Excellence," President Doom-Harbinger said quickly. "You'd be our premiere patron. But think of all those other lesser cosmic entities who would pay handsomely to experience what you discovered first."

Jenkins, who had been quietly updating his suicide note throughout this entire conversation, looked up from his tablet. "Are we seriously about to turn the apocalypse into a tourist attraction?"

"The best tourist attraction," President Doom-Harbinger confirmed. "An authentic, genuine, constantly refreshing experience of civilizational collapse, performed by the very masters of the art form themselves."

Cannibalus was practically vibrating with excitement now, his tentacles forming what might have been applause if tentacles could clap. "THIS... THIS IS BRILLIANT. INSTEAD OF ONE MEAL, I WOULD HAVE AN INFINITE SUPPLY OF FRESH DESPAIR AND SUFFERING."

"Exactly! And we humans get to do what we do best - make ourselves and everyone around us miserable - but now with purpose! With an audience! With cosmic significance!"

Dr. Pestilence held up her hand. "Wait, wait, wait. Let me make sure I understand this correctly. Instead of being eaten, we're going to... perform our own destruction? Like, professionally?"

"Think of it as dinner theater meets performance art meets the actual end of the world," the President explained. "We get job security, His Hungryness gets entertainment, and the universe gets the most spectacular ongoing show in existence."

"AND I WOULD BE THE FIRST TO DISCOVER IT," Cannibalus added, his voice taking on the smugness of someone who had just found a really good restaurant before it became trendy. "THE OTHER COSMIC ENTITIES WOULD BE SO JEALOUS."

"Absolutely! You'd be the cosmic equivalent of a food blogger who discovered the next big thing."

Secretary of Existential Affairs Dr. Brainfart raised his hand. "What about our nuclear arsenal? We've spent decades perfecting the art of mutually assured destruction."

"Oh, that stays," President Doom-Harbinger assured him. "But instead of using it all at once, we use it strategically. A little nuclear brinksmanship here, a small apocalyptic event there. We pace ourselves. Make it last."

"Like... edging, but with civilization?" Dr. Pestilence asked.

"Exactly! We bring humanity right to the brink of destruction, then pull back, then push forward again. Maximum existential dread, minimum actual ending."

Cannibalus was now practically bouncing, which was a disturbing sight considering his cosmic proportions. "YES! YES! THIS IS PERFECT! I ACCEPT YOUR PROPOSITION, CLEVER LITTLE MEAT CREATURES!"

President Doom-Harbinger smiled the smile of someone who had just successfully convinced a cosmic entity to subscribe to humanity's dysfunction. "Excellent! Now, shall we discuss the terms of service?"

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Chapter 6