Atlas Adrift

Officer Buddy's tongue lolls in high-definition, big dumb grin hovering over my flight controls like he owns the place. In a future where bureaucratic AI dogs process your paperwork and Lunar Fringe stations sell recycled piss as lager, one pilot just wants to register his ammonia-breathing cephalopod dependent without committing fraud.

A sardonic space tale where the real enemy isn't aliens — it's forms, hold times, and holographic customer service dogs.