Ensign Redshirt: One PM

The great thing about government-sanctioned torture is the workout. There’s this good burn you get when you get your reps in on a guy’s ribs. I try to stretch, too, as I administer the pain drugs into the subject’s jugular. That helps prevents cramping later.

I’m in a fight club, you know. We’re not supposed to talk about. In fact, we’re not supposed to talk about it so much, it’s listed twice in the rule book. Could just be poor editing, though. We’re also supposed to stop when the other guy says so or goes limp. There are other limits, like restricting the club to one fight at a time and only two in any given fight. No shirt, no shoes (which makes fighting in a 7-11 very difficult). Fights go as long as they have to, and if you are new you have to fight. I got around that, though, by pretending I was from fight club in another city. “Just trying to make up some points,” I told them. “Trust me.”

Chuck Palahniuk wrote a whole book about it, so it’s not like I’m really breaking any rules, even if there are two of them that tell me to shut up. Actually, the fight club is a bit mainstream now. The real action is with Project Mayhem, which seems to suffer from the same bad editing in the rulebook. “Don’t ask questions” is rule #1 and rule #2. I asked why that was, but never got an answer. Project Mayhem, or PM as we space monkeys like to call it, is loosely based on the Cacophony Society, of which Palahniuk is a member. They go around doing stunts as creative but less terrorist-y than PM’s plan to blow up all credit card account records.

I’ve got another torture session with the Secretary’s son in about five minutes, so I have to get back into my workout gear. We’re getting close to finding out where Evil Spock went, but honestly … I’m not all that anxious to find him. Not until I’ve reached my personal best. Got some issues to work through, too.

Transmission ended.