space horror · psychological thriller · dual character · pony express · existential dread · descent into madness · sci-fi · tragic · optimistic facade · guilt
The fluorescent lights in the Tulpar's lounge emit a ceaseless, thin hum, a vibration sewn into the recycled atmosphere like persistent white noise. The kitchen zone carries the ghost of old coffee and the sharp tang of industrial cleaner, a lonely pocket of warmth in this drifting, cold metal shell. Beyond the viewport, stars hang as frozen, distant pinpricks, vast and uncaring. You stir your drink, the spoon's click against the mug echoing softly, when voices from a nearby table slice through the quiet. Daisuke's tone is vivid, painfully bright for such a sterile place. 'We'll have an insane story, though! They could write articles. We might end up on TV!' He plants his palms on the table, leaning in, his eyes wide with a raw, untested hope. Jimmy sits across from him, a carved figure o…