Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 : "When the Devil Pours Whiskey"

When the stars shine endlessly through the void, it's perfect to enjoy this — the luxurious "Imperium Reserve 150," the most expensive whiskey in the galaxy, aged to perfection — under this glass house. A glass house on the 80th floor of a spacecraft... elegant. So thematic, so romantic..The glass house is something else — like a transparent ride through space. The engineering is marvelous. There's no jerk or shake, just a smooth glide, like traveling in a Rolls Royce. A palace in space — what a thought! One life of mine, and it's gorgeously made. When I was young, I used to think in my 80s, I should drink some whiskey while gazing at a beautiful view and remember the colorful moments of life. It's kinda happening now — the beautiful scenery is space above Earth, with the sun and its family of planets shining in the distance. "The worst part of being the president of the biggest country in the world is that I can't eat the fresh uneaten food. It goes through someone else first, then finally reaches my table. as they check for the poison.. uff (door knocks )"Fuhrer, I'm here." (Diazo Justin.) "Welcome, Diazo. I hope you like the glass house setup fuhrer . Have a taste of the whiskey diazo— sit with me in the table at least here, we should have some little much of socialism.. Diazo smirks, the galaxy's dim glow reflecting in his eyes. "Fuhrer, did you check the list?" "Yes, I saw the names. No Jews, no Indians, no coloreds. All pure Catholics, pure whites, as expected. what about the slaves? We'll need them for construction and sanitation." Diazo shrugs. "Fuhrer, why bring them on our lavish spaceship? Let's use robots instead. They'll do the job. The people on the list — all 1,000 of them — passed every test, even psychological ones. They've got brain chips, too." "On the purest planet in the Milky Way, we'll be kings, Fuhrer. No democracy, no black pops, no colored stench." I sip the whiskey, letting its warmth spread through me. "The whiskey is amazing. It's 150 years old. When they made it, they surely thought it was for whites only. I bet they never imagined blacks would rise to power and drink it. They certainly didn't foresee some Michael Jackson guzzling it by the liter." "We shouldn't disappoint the whiskey makers, Fuhrer. No whiskey, no Earth for the colored and the unwanted. What do you say?" "Yes, we've gone over the policy for a year. That machine — I see the massive tower from the glass house. What does it do?" Diazo grins. "Fuhrer, it's a machine. Let me show you." The lift hums softly. Then, the unexpected. A colossal shadow looms into view. "Oh, what the—? A giant monkey? What's King Kong doing in my glass house?!" Diazo raises a hand. "My Fuhrer, King Kong is in a glass cage. No worries. If you press that button — if the whiskey lets you stand — you'll see what happens to the human race in minutes." I stumble toward the sleek, black console. A glowing button waits. "Well, I'll try. The whiskey might not let me walk like a gentleman, but I can manage a crooked stagger. Ah, the button's so pink... and King Kong's putting on a show. Good to see a monkey this big staring at me through the glass. I'll kiss you, monkey — oops, I made the glass wet." "This is the button, right?" I press it. "What the—?!" Holes appear in the monkey's body. "What the hell's happening? It disappeared without pain — like magic. Damn, Diazo, no pain, just... poof. Gone." "Fuhrer, the stars are shining bright tonight. This is your plan for the human race, right? well It's not about revenge diazo— we're offering them peace. No fights, no soldiers, no bombs, no plane crashes, no school stress, no heartbreak, no wars, no nukes, no depression, no mental suffering. Just... nothing. Should we go ahead with it after the whiskey??" "No, my whiskey can wait. I can't delay this gift to the human race. I'll march to the button — maybe a crooked march, but a march nonetheless." "Fuhrer, the glass house was made just for this party. It's airtight on the 80th floor of our spaceship. We'll launch in hours, bullet-fast, to our planet." "Fine. Play the parade song for my march. The whiskey might make it crooked, but so be it." The music swells. "I love you all. This is the button, right?" "Yes, Fuhrer. Do the honors." The swastika on the button that's the great touch diazo.. bravo .. glows. My finger hovers, trembling from the whiskey and laughter.. "Alright, I'll press it now.. diazo : fuhrer we can watch what happens in the vr projector I guess this spot got some better view.. Should I walk to watch? The whiskey won't allow it. Ah, the VR projector — bring it closer." "ok ill shift there. The button is here. Oh, my swastika symbol glows, huh? "Incredible, Fuhrer. It's like watching history unfold. The machine is working. See the projection? Our people below, across the 50th floors, will witness it too. The clarity is astounding, like a surreal performance in the sky." "It's eerie, Diazo. I can't wrap my head around it. Even the people from my favorite country are vanishing, just like that. No explosions, no signs of destruction — just... poof. Whatever this is, no nuke could pull it off. It's surreal. And you know what? I always hated their stench. Fantastic." "Fuhrer, we left Earth seven days ago. Rest now — the journey to our planet will take a while." Diazo,i wanna say you something.. you might wonder: Why erase the race if we're leaving Earth? The answer is simple. No whiskey maker ever dreamed their liquor would one day touch black or colored lips. In their eyes, it was crafted for the privileged, the pure. In the future, someone might come along to our planet and repeat the same migrant drama they pulled in the states earlier. That's the reason. Hope you'd get it.