Adventures of the Galactic Central Police — Episode 1
Theme: Tell bad drivers, rude customers, and evil dictators how grateful you are to them. Do it with a wink and smile.
Word Limit: 1000
Year 3345
Andrews grew up as a wonderful kid without many complaints except that most people thought he was thankless. He graduated from the Galactic Police Academy with a great GPA, no thanks to his professors. He was now on his first solo mission to the planet Candyball of Happiness and Celebration (CHC) where millions are being brutally murdered by a rogue dictator.
The captain of his ship to CHC came down to chat with Andrews.
Your first mission, officer? This should be exciting for you! The captain said.
Yes, indeed. By the way, captain, I was wondering if you could educate me on what’s happening at CHC.
CHC is a bunch of idiots who bought a planet for themselves during The World Augmentation Term. Since TW*T, the people of CHC who call themselves Chicago Fair High Batch of 2233s and Chicago Fair High Batches for short have gained a reputation as one of the most naive planet of people across the galaxy. The captain explained.
Right. And they seem to have a problem with a dictator. But all the communications I’ve received so far from CHC asking for help to stop the evil dictator seem to be from the evil dictator himself.
Probably not. The Chicago Fair High Batches have a weird system to name their kids. It is based on their religion and its two Holy Books, the only two books the original 53 who bought CHC managed to bring into their new planet — Good and Bad Adjectives and 999 Illustrated Roles of Individuals in the 23rd Century Society. They randomly pick a word from the first book and another from the second to name their newborns. So in all likeliness, evil dictator who corresponded with you was a citizen named Evil Dictator. The captain explained.
As he arrived at Space Dock 1178 on CHC, a citizen of CHC named Bad Driver (the entire self-driving thing didn’t quite take off until almost four centuries after Musk) welcomed him. He was shocked to see how much the planet lacked compared to the Developed Galaxy.
Bad Driver told him that she would be taking him to meet with Designer Designer and Evil Dictator in the secrecy of their resistance HQ to figure how to bring down Nice Not-Dictator, the murderer dictator and his extremist followers who believe in the bad adjectives of Good and Bad Adjectives.
I hope you aren’t driving. A chuckling Andrews said.
Andrews arrived at the secret and dilapidated HQ of the resistance movement. Bad Driver took him to a room and closed the door behind her. Behind a large table with a makeshift nameplate that said Designer (as in designer tiles) Designer (as in graphic designer) sat Designer Designer. His tired eyes turned towards Andrews and he spoke.
We need your help to defeat Nice Not-Dictator. During our resistance, I’ve lost many friends and my health. Today, all of us can but only beg you to help. Designer Designer said.
Actually, it’s pretty easy with this Poison Drone 3.0 with Facial Recognition and Network Mining for Remote Kill. I can do it like right now. Declared Andrews, who had by then assumed a patronizing tone. Let me show you.
Don’t. You will certainly need the help of our resistance to destroy the dictatorship on CHC. Designer Designer said wisely.
Andrews, disregarding the advice of Designer Designer and Bad Driver, assembled and launched the Poison Drone that killed Nice Not-Dictator. But unfortunately, he created a power vacuum leading to the more brutal Pretty He Kind Of Does A Little Bit of Everything Around The Office assuming power. Andrews used a second Poison Drone to kill him too, but with the same result. The power-hungry Civil Engineer took his place and over a stretch of few days, she doubled the rate of conquest and murder.
It is his curse, Andrews lamented over the washroom sink. That he never knows when to ask for help, or when to take it. And now he had botched up his first mission with the Galactic Central Police.
Maybe, I don’t know how much help I got throughout my life because I never said thanks. I need to change. Andrews thought to himself. Now.
Assemble everyone you can, we are going to war. Andrews stormed into Designer Designer’s room and declared. He beamed with pride watching delight creep across Designer Designer’s face.
Soon, the commander of resistance army Rude Customer was summoned, followed by the head of resistance intelligence agency Evil Dictator and finally the chief of resistance transportation Bad Driver. Andrews brilliantly led them in a fight against Civil Engineer and whoever came after her including Free Mason, Depressed Robot Therapist and Drunk Pilot, that lasted for days until the rightful democratic form of government based on popularity contests was restored in CHC.
Once the war was over, the Chicago Fair High Batch of 2233s collectively decided to honor him. A kid, whose hipster parents were killed by the dictatorship for not believing in the Holy Books, pinned a medal onto Andrews live on global television. His name was Steve.
I wish you had defeated the dictators in more detail. Steve said while pinning the medal.
I would’ve done it in detail, but for the word limit. Andrews replied.
Later at the Global Annual Prom of Candyball of Happiness and Celebration, Andrews walked up to the three people that fought alongside him against tyranny. He told Bad Driver, Rude Customer, and Evil Dictator how grateful he was, with a wink and a smile. Andrews knew that he was a changed man then.
