Technician A Thelta Zero logs off querie

Zero considered the logic tree that spread out to his right. Useless. No better than voodoo. He changed the user parameters. “Zero, you fucking with the customers.” Bert his pal asked.

“Always,” Zero said. These church of chastity interstellar seed ships took a long time to get from A to B and people in stasis went mad unless they were hooked up to an AI run VR. And after a few horrific mishaps where the colonies ended very badly it was decided that all AI run VR domains needed human oversight - and that was where Zero came in.

Zero monitored the system. For four and a bit centuries. Twenty rejuvenations. And he’d installed his pal Bert to run the ship after removing the church AI.

This was a long haul and Zero had a lot of work to do. He’d had access to the manifest before lift off and had contacted various persons to make offers. And then he took those offers to any affected third party and arranged things accordingly if required. Then he installed custom VR realms for people as requested. This was where the real money came in. People paid lots of money for his services.

In that particular Halloween party there had been an entire pod that had agreed to the outcome. A fairly benign and fun fantasy. They’d have a lot of fun. And they’d paid for rejuvenation body update. When they arrived at the colony they’d be their new personages, fake identity thanks to doctored logs. Full revised histories. New lives. New bodies. New identities as paid for.

But there were a few that Zero enjoyed. Senator Hugh Lawrence was travelling with his wife to New Eden, the universes pleasure capital, and had paid to have his wife disposed of for the duration of the trip into a submissive sex prison for four hundred years. Zero had been amused by the request and taken the money, then presented all the information to the senators wife.