Author's Note: There will be an epilogue chapter after this one, but we're quickly approaching the end. I hope you've enjoyed Koyaanisqatsi thus far and will be interested in perusing other stories within my library.
Plus, for anyone who enjoys musical accompaniment to stories, I did find a song for the finale right here: watch?v=cCUepJnw5xQ . Honestly, most of VNV Nation's works feel apt for the Galactics. They're well worth a listen.
...
It's over. The Veilstone building was the last to close, but I'm turning the keys over today.
Our proprietary and intellectual properties have been sold and snatched up by rival corporations. We're being devoured slowly, and we're too deep on the event horizon to recover. I settled the last lawsuit today.
Ironically, it's Mars who drove the final nail in Team Galactic's coffin. I settled out of court with her team of lawyers. I didn't even care how much restitution she wanted; I gave it to her because no amount of money could bring back what she lost.
I gave 44 years of my life to this company. It's the only real job I've ever held. It was waiting for me when I turned 18, and now I'm fairly sure I'm the same age Charon was when he joined. I've been in command for four decades. I'm old enough to be somebody's grandfather, yet I have nothing to show for myself but death and disappointment.
My hubris robbed us of a future. You have no legacy left, and neither do I.
The world won't recognize our accomplishments. In your era, we were the people who nearly destroyed the world. In my era, we became the people who killed innocent astronauts on live global TV. Any enthusiasm for space travel will be set back several decades. People will talk about this for years to come. They'll associate us with failure, forgetting every advancement we gave them.
I gave this world everything I had, thinking that I could prove you wrong. I wanted to validate its worth: to prove that not all parts of the human spirit were bad. Once you were gone, I started believing in ambition, passion, pride, and determination. I proved how much we could accomplish once we worked together and applied ourselves. I used to love this world. It's the only one I'll ever have.
Now I won't miss it.
…
"Master Saturn? Sir…it's time."
He bit his lip, taking one last look at the monitor. Every year, he came in here and tortured himself for a few hours, offering a one-sided conversation to his dead god the way some people prayed to their imaginary ones.
It unnerved some of the younger members. Anyone who had been with Team Galactic from the start didn't judge Saturn for it. The new wave of employees had never known Cyrus. They couldn't possibly understand the effect he had on people.
Cyrus probably died in Giratina's realm decades ago. Now his temple was being shut down forever.
Saturn's eyes were wet as he pushed the power button and watched as all lights in the room shut off, this time for good. The backlighting for the keyboards dimmed first, and then the transparent touch-screen monitors. Finally, the large screen in the center of the room—the front and center stage for every annual instance of psychological flagellation—turned to black.
Most everything was already in boxes, including the uniforms. That final week had felt so strange for him. He'd told his employees that there was no further point in enforcing the dress code. Grunts came into work in jeans and t-shirts, still with that same bright green bowl cut. Saturn had worn his uniform to the very end, but even Jupiter showed up to her retirement party in a plum-colored pant suit.
"You don't have to come with me," Saturn remarked. The grunt saluted him anyway. "This could end badly for you."
"Sir, I'm already flying you out to Mt. Coronet. I might as well stick around to take you home if this doesn't work."
"How old are you?"
"22. Why?"
"When I was your age, I lost my world. I reigned over what was left of it like a loyal steward for four decades. I tried to fix it, but I couldn't."
He took a closer look at this young man. He was out of uniform and had already styled his green hair into something a little more trendy, but Saturn saw the concern on his face was genuine.
"I still thought humanity had a fighting chance back then."
"It still does," the boy replied firmly. "One failure is going to cement everything? You're just going to give up and go?"
"Not…quite…" They were supposed to liquidate all company assets as part of the settlement with Mars. Saturn couldn't fully comply. The most critical data was backed up on his tablet, and in that suitcase…
'I just need to subdue Dialga and hit the rewind button. At the very least, we're owed a do-over.'