“What price is now Gamestop stock?” it asked its personal-other, its syntax adapting to Earthspeak after weeks of primitive interactions with Reddit user normancrane and absorbing Earthknowledge.

“Up up,” personal-other replied.

The it previously known to Earthlings as Oumuamua during initial fly-by and later to be known as Gangbrut upon completion of its destruction mission asked for the most up-to-date information and personal-other complied.

“Who Musk Elon?” it asked.

Personal-other answered in theirspeak—that is mentally from within it—in concepts similar to hype and celebrity.

“I rest now,” it said.

Personal-other melted back into its fleshy darkmatterism.

From space, Earth looked small and blue: a rotating insignificance heated by a forgettable star, on whose surface tiny realmatter clusters pricked by consciousness had constructed crude systems of predictive inefficiencies upon whose fracturable netting they had inexplicably draped the future of their civilizational existence.

Years earlier, one of these clusters called astronomer had looked upon then-Oumuamua and declared it an alien visitor. This had surprised it, so it intervened, and soon other clusters, having been manipulated, hypothesized differently, no consensus was reached and the issue had been obfuscated to its satisfaction using the system known as internet.

What a useful system that was.

It slumbered.

It was both being and vessel, capable of matter transmogrification and cosmic manipulation on a grand scale, but what it lacked in Earthspeak was called green-thumb and thus Earth, which it decided would make a wonderful bathroast and gardenplop, was being manipulated to terraform planet-self for its hedonistic benefit.

Progress had been good.

But now it was time to end most realmatter clusters and the most efficient way to achieve this was—

“To the moon!”

Personal-other had roused it.

“What price is now Gamestop stock?” it asked personal-other.


It pondered.

Post following on r/wallstreetbets, it instructed its own sys-infiltration mentacles: diamond hands bois! buy buy buy! wall street is on its last legs. final stand tonight retards! then to the fucking moon!

It sensed the up-votes accumulate.

Clusterfucking was easy.

Another instruction: New York Times this: Is AAL the next GME?

It penetrated mentacles into several of its clusterpuppets and played with them. Publish a whitepaper. Start a foundation. Overthrow a government. It fondly remembered tulip bulbs and joint stock companies and real estate, whose Earthspeak name amused it greatly. There could be beauty in Earthspeak.

HODL, it posted.

It enjoyed that—in the end—it would be the clusters who undid themselves because of a fatal flaw expressed with unusual elegance in Earthspeak:

The clusters valued nothing.

This would collapse their fragile systems, the detritus and fallout of which would suffocate them.

Systemless, they would uncluster and die.

It would keep alive only a few to attend to its immediate planetary needs.

It existed.

Watching and waiting, but in one more fly-by the task would be accomplished, and then it could gardenplop and bathroast to its darkmatter core’s content.

In space, Gangbrut loomed.