Chapter 2: First Contact with Idiots

Max sat down on the nearest metal crate, staring at the unconscious aliens scattered across the floor. His fingers absentmindedly spun another banana that had materialized in his hand.

"So… I just took out an entire squad of space thugs using nothing but fruit."

[Correction: You took out an entire squad of space thugs using weaponized bananas.]

Max rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. So what now?"

[RECOMMENDED ACTION: Acquire information about your current situation.]

"Great idea. And who am I supposed to ask?" He gestured at the groaning, unconscious aliens. "Because these guys don't seem like they're in a chatty mood."

[Alternative Action: Locate the ship's main AI and access its database.]

Max perked up. "Wait, this ship has an AI?"

[Affirmative.]

"Why didn't you mention that sooner?"

[Because you were too busy having an existential crisis over bananas.]

Max sighed and pushed himself up. "Fine. Where's the AI?"

[Head to the cockpit.]

Max looked around. There were two doors—one that led to a dark hallway, and another that looked like it had been recently shot several times.

"System, which one's the cockpit?"

[The one that is not full of bullet holes.]

"Good call."

A Meeting with B.O.B.

After some cautious walking (and one unfortunate slip on a banana peel—his own fault, really), Max found himself in what was unmistakably the cockpit.

A massive curved window displayed the infinite expanse of space, dotted with stars and the occasional swirling nebula. A sleek console stretched across the room, its holographic screens flickering with alien symbols.

Max whistled. "Okay. This is actually kind of awesome."

Then one of the screens blinked, and a new voice—calm and vaguely robotic—greeted him.

"Welcome, Captain. I am the ship's AI, designated as B.O.B. (Basic Operational Bot). How may I assist you today?"

Max blinked. "Your name is Bob?"

"Affirmative."

Max snorted. "I was expecting something more… I don't know, high-tech? Like Hyperion or Omega-9000."

"My full designation is Basic Operational Bot. You may call me B.O.B."

Max shrugged. "Alright, Bob. First question—where the hell am I?"

"You are currently aboard the SS Quantum Disaster—a former Galactic Federation patrol ship, currently classified as 'stolen property' by the authorities."

Max frowned. "So it is stolen."

"Correct."

"And the previous owner?"

"Vaporized."

"Right. That's… disturbing."

"Would you like to file a complaint?"

Max blinked. "A… complaint?"

"Yes. The Federation has a Customer Satisfaction Portal for such incidents. I can draft a strongly worded message to their complaints department."

Max stared at the screen. "Does anyone actually respond to those?"

"Unlikely. The last known response was received 47 years ago. It read: 'Lol, sucks to be you.'"

Max ran a hand down his face. "Okay, forget that. Can you at least tell me where I am physically?"

"We are currently drifting in deep space, approximately 100 light-years from the nearest civilized planet, and heading toward a black hole."

Max froze. "Wait, WHAT?!"

There was a pause.

"My apologies. That was a joke. Ha. Ha. In reality, we are simply lost."

Max groaned. "Bob, do me a favor. Never tell jokes again."

"Acknowledged."

"Alright, new plan: Let's find a space station, refuel, and figure out how to survive in this crazy universe."

"Understood, Captain. Scanning for nearby space stations…"

Max leaned back in the captain's chair, exhaling. He had a ship, a system (however broken it was), and a very questionable AI. It wasn't much, but it was something.

[NEW QUEST: Explore the Universe and Become the Ultimate Hero!]

Max scratched his head. "What if I just wanna retire on a nice planet with a beach and unlimited pizza?"

[ERROR: Request Denied.]

Max groaned. "Figures."

And thus, Max Miller's absurd adventure across the multiverse officially began—with a stolen spaceship, a glitchy system, and an AI that thought customer complaints were a viable survival strategy.

What could possibly go wrong?