176. Jahzara Zedd
176
Jahzara Zedd
J ahzara Zedd
Shit. Somehow, I broke a nail during my welcome speech. As my manicure bot repairs it, I try to focus on all the positives in my life, but that’s so hard to do.
I should be in my small, luxurious vessel, circling just above Earth’s atmosphere. Earth. Even the name makes me roll my eyes.
Earth is not only a primitive planet at the ass-end of the galaxy, it creates the most abominable creatures—Earthers.
On the voyage here, I heard my crew joking about it. The pilot asked the navigator how to find Earth and the nav replied, “It’s where you stick the nozzle when you want to give the galaxy an enema.”
That laugh was the only moment of levity I’m going to get on this expedition. If I had my say about this, I’d be broadcasting from the safety and comfort of our main studio. I would have all the comforts of home, including my bed-slaves.
My position as executive producer of The Game has given me power, notoriety, and enough credits to have what I want, including my current favorite, my four-armed Mordite. That male is talented. Between four hands and the stamina of prize racing stock, he’s almost worth what I paid for him.
But to have this fame and fortune, each season I must create more and more spectacular plans and venues for The Game. And, worse than the strain of having to outdo myself every season, is my supervisor’s insistence that I be present for this and all future games.
The bastard even mandated I was not allowed to stay on my ship circling atmo. He has me down on the forsaken surface.
It’s not my fault that although each of the last three games made us all wealthy beyond our wildest dreams, there were also a few… mishaps. No. It’s not my fault at all. Each and every time, the problem was due to an Earther female.
I don’t even try to hide my smug smile. The Game hasn’t even begun and one of the four Earther contestants has perished.
What am I saying? Perished is an “on-air” word. In my own head, I call it what I want. Died. The helpless little bitch died. She got injured, couldn’t run, and then actually took us up on our offer to euthanize her. I don’t know what is more contemptible, her cowardice or her stupidity.
Luckily, I will be able to swear in a court of law that I had no idea the solution we used to perform that function had been diluted to the point it took much longer and was much more painful than it needed to be. Too bad, little Earther.
I am far from happy I’ve been ordered to Earth’s surface to oversee this season of The Game. Luckily, I’ve devised a plan to make it more fun—at least for me.
I’ve set up here in this sealed, protected, unused room near the bridge of the ship. Glancing around, I smile as I realize I’ve got everything I need.
I had some bots bring in a comfortable recliner. It will allow me to tolerate the little cat naps I’ll take during downtime while my assistant manages things.
My tech team had bots set up a state-of-the-art comms center so both I and the entire galaxy can see and hear everything as it occurs in real-time through a vast array of cameras.
The network only provided me with a few guns, and those didn’t have the type of power a female of my status should have. The great thing about being on this warship is that I ordered the bots to collect dozens of weapons that had been abandoned when the initial mishap occurred.
I’m now surrounded by high-powered laser rifles as well as the few pistols TGN provided.
Perhaps this season will go so well I’ll get the Network Vice President spot I’ve had my eye on. I’m well suited for it. The Gods above know I delegate well.
I can just imagine when The Game is down to only a few contestants how fun it will be to reveal myself from my little hiding place. I’ll ensure it will be dramatic.
Hopefully, this season will go off without a hitch and dealing with this riffraff, especially the Earthers, will soon be a thing of the past when I move up to a more powerful position within the company.