Once, I sent a venusian teleporter through the global grid-matrix. That didn’t turn out so well, since the reult was a bionucleotic breakdown of the primordial soup. Even though the results were disastrous, the laughing was what really broke down galactic affairs: Venus declared war on Mars, since that is where the uranium factories were placed. Practically, the Martians handed over the factory and Venus got away with murder, which is what they wanted in the first place. But now, the sub-particle accelerator is broken and no one is here to fix it, so here I float in outer space with my dog “Squintios the Third” waiting for someone to walk by and notice the power switch at Mars has been accidentally switched off. Since Mars’ government is now defunct and the grid-matrix is down, this could take a couple thousand years.
Since there’s no aging here, and since most weapons don’t work here, I guess I’ll have to find the last remaining axe and chop my head off. At least Squintios the Third will get a decent meal for once in his life, too bad he will have to be shot at the next stop. I hope they see him grinning with part of my intestine hanging out of his mouth, that would be a shocker.