Music Inspo:
Long after humanity reached the stars, and recreated earth in all its vices, one (totally unhinged) man finds himself lost not only in a robotic body, but in the chapters of his prior life (circa 1997).
Knowing what came before—and finding familiar faces to help him—is the only way to survive.
Not just for him, but for the billions that call this planet-sized ship, home.
Welcome to CONSTELIS VOSS, the anime-inspired, psychological sci-fi trilogy nobody asked for, but everyone (probably) deserves.
Karma's a bitch.
Get acquainted with these faces; your life depends on it.
Alex
protagonist (??)
“You’re talking about me like I’m—I don’t fucking know...some kind of Star Trek bullshit...”
Maya
pocket-sized genius
“I wouldn’t. I’d want it ta’ be better! I’d wanna’ have everyone happy with what they were doin’, everyone could eat whatever they wanted, and have fun…And I'd want a yellow scooter!”
Diana
femme fatale
“Oh, I know that one, dear. Best to avoid it. Makes you wonder about people too much, darling. The stories they tell, and what monsters they leave out. If only Dolores had found a pistol.”
Polly
scream queen
“Whatever! I didn’t know you, like, did what you did and how you did it, but now I know and I know I can’t know when to stop knowing because I’ll just keep talking when I talk!”
Sebastian
would-be dictator
“Fine then, we’re all figments of your glorious imagination.
“Makes sense to me."
“Then why aren’t we all naked and fondling each other, hmm? Where’s all the insane music, hmm?"
Henry
dim-witted brit fucknugget "Electrics"
“Y’ave yer army now, mate...jus dunno’ how yer gonna’ pull it off is all.”
“S’bit fuzzy on my end, innit?”
Vox-1
too good for this story
“You have given me nothing. You have saddled me with...everything.”
The play’s credits performed in reverse. Laughter wove in spliced tongues. Sobs were shots of vodka mimed backwards in still-frame memories. Today was the day he was born.
At first, there was a void of nothing. Then, the man was alive. He was alive, standing in a space that smelled like antiseptic, that was large enough for a swept arm to feel no chairs, no walls, no people, and he was blind.
The tremor of a frenetic pulse in his ears was the beat of a song he knew too well; fight or flight, do or die, the time is now.
Then, the sound became a sizzle.
The man, naturally stumbling, placed his hand on a flat surface and followed it up with searching fingers.
He was a slip of a shape, crawling like a bottom-feeder until he reached a notch. He pushed his hand up between the space he felt, and grasped what he imagined was silver.
That white-knuckled hand meant he was alive.
He used the handhold to follow the wall and found a seam. He felt the seam with his fingers and plastered his face to a slick surface, his mouth fogging the wall in front of him. It was wet on the skin of his cheek.
Finally, after what felt like hours, words found shape in his mouth.
If he could speak, it meant that he was alive.
“W-where the fuck am I?!”
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