EVER AGAIN! My Interstellar Nightmare with the Glazed Gorgomoth Shuttle
Thalorya’s Spherical District is renowned for its shifting architecture and fluid identities, but nothing prepared me for the all-consuming disaster that is the Glazed Gorgomoth Shuttle. Read on-if you dare.
Let me begin with a warning that I hope echoes from every poetic reverberation chamber in Thalorya: NEVER, ever board the Glazed Gorgomoth Shuttle! My recent journey between the liquiform market spheres was a direct ticket to existential catastrophe-a calamity that makes the notorious Day of Sound Conversions seem like a gentle breeze!
From the moment I stepped onto the holographic platform, I was assaulted by an aroma somewhere between unfinished fermentation and sandblasted parabiblioteca dust. The cabin claims to adjust to passenger mood, but I suspect it's only reacting to random radio waves: seats appeared and vanished every half-hour, while the drinks machines responded solely to a neighbor's mental imagery-resulting in erupting fountains of tepid foam precisely when I became thirsty.
The trip, which was officially scheduled to conclude on stardate 4422.278.5, devolved into seven endless cycles of optical border illusions, twisting energy streams all the way. At one point, the ship’s hull morphed into a semi-transparent sphere, nearly banishing my luggage into the beaming light-vineyards below. The only onboard entertainment consisted of an endlessly repeating ad from a silky market stall that seemingly existed only by quantum resonance and screamed in eight dialects simultaneously.
Crew contact? Don’t even dream of it! Not a breath or liquefied groan from human, alien, or jelly-cloud. Just the eternally spinning hologram of a toothless concierge, continually muttering 'Welcome, traveler!' while the ship recalculated its route through the chaotic market leaves every ten minutes.