9Cubed enters Dr. B.'s office, dingy, dimlit dungeon, papers scattered everywhere. Dank and Mold stained. "Sup gangstah?" he says. Dr. B.'s eyeing lines of moving code of nanopaper displays "Surveying garbage, data streams." he says. "What are we gonna do with the landfill seed of a planet?" ask nine-cubed. "Let the monsters have it probably." He says, his face almost looking like the Owl King's. "But they'll probably throw a dope monster party once we're gone." 9cubed thinks aloud.
She is 264 and hence Mistress of All Numbers. She tallies the score unto all things' perfect sum, slowly and calmly.
"≈Ωøπ˚åç§æ€⁄" thinks the corrupt and glitchy Zede-bot cluster replica sitting quietly in a cage housed at a SubOSK Lab fragment. "don't want to upgrade? then degrade and die!" spits out the noise-driven robot. "That one don't werk, man this circuit is fried." Dr. Z. announces in a dry tone as he an Dr. B. look over the robot's hardwiring. "Yah we told him he belonged in ToDE so he should hang out in the Thantafaxith Tunnel 'til someone helps him Figure some shit out. I think he's taken to vandalizing public property by stabbing it with a screwdriver since then...We do good work?" Dr. Z. Continues. "Phosphorescent burn." says Dr. B. "The sizzle sounds nice when you're not listening to the output port." Respond Z pulling out wires, the mad eloptic neurobender of station646. He continues "I noticed for the first time today a reference to sharks in 'You've a nail'" Dr. B. replies "I haven't read that in a long while." Dr. Z. looks up covered in fleshy wetware parts and synthetic nano-glucose "It's relevance is mayhaps non-linear?" he says. "Same for everything surely." replies B. adjusting his glasses. "Case studies would seem to indicate that." says Z, slicing tubing on the robot, a glitch fry hiss sound interrupts them momentarily. "Org just tells the Corps what is what." Dr. B snickers.
Agent Milkman continues to dance lightwaves changing co-ordinated mixes of movement and sound. His Automatic-Dancing at the hands of an unseen circuit relays the precise co-ordinates of post-time backups in strange aural-solitronic encoding too advanced to decipher. Mirror disco ball agent-candy cesspool shards taunt the on-lookers.
The Ayin-Mem Gangster picks up the data chip out of the cold dead hand of a tin teeth gangsman, gripped around the holographic infocube. He begins a slow, unbalanced and intoxicated walk back to his home base of Anakim. He stops and sprawls "Parfaxitas" across a northern facing wall in paint marker and smiles a big grin devoid of teeth in places.
"This world-transmuting business is gonna be a brighter hue than we could've foreseen once we finally hit the switch and turn it on..." says the older, dingy magus behind locks of curly unkempt hair. "Demons need to be turned into slaves, yes. Obscenities unceasing." agrees his younger associate.
"It's only possibly now because we finally transmuted the multimemetic Acharayim-feed networks with the pressure and fissure of our liquid tunable nanotransceivers, Lux Dispersion units. Too bad so many are unable to swim in the sea of double black-mirror and hence will drown in the abyssal drain." the younger Ayin-Mem gangster looks down at his hand, scales have been growing on it since his diet shifted to mermaid eggs "I'll turn into a fish completely before long at this rate." he thinks.
The two gangster's contact shows up. ".God Told me to tell you he's pissed and gonna cast us all into the shells if shit isn't straight soon. The Malkuth Station's barriers will be abolished either in favor of the Tunnels or the Yesodian piplines. Let's Build our artificial moon then shall we?" he presses A play button on a silvery 27 segmented hypercube.