Meanwhile, Aunty Floresta and Edwin puttered about in the kitchen. Although the replicators could copy Thamavuong donuts with virtually perfect control and precision, she and Edwin kept trying to master the kitchen and even create recipes of their own.

Lan shrugged. Neither Aunty Floresta nor Edwin had the skills to assist with the critical work, so this was a good way for them to keep busy. Overall, the crew was settling into a predictable routine. No worries. No surprises.

Yet Lan’s nightmares would not go away.

And it was more than nightmares. Somehow, even on this remote backwater planet, the Endplague seemed always around the corner, beneath the surface, lurking in the periphery.

Lan watched a customer place a quarter into a Stargate machine. It was a hopelessly primitive game where the fighter shot various aliens and mutants while rescuing helpless humans. Early on, she noticed that in this Stargate video game, once a player finished a mission, the next one would start automatically.

At first, the game would increase in difficulty and variety, but past a certain point, it merely kept repeating. And repeating, with no change, no hope for growth nor any way to escape.

Thus, everyone who played was destined to lose, either from fatigue or resignation.

As crude as it was, this game was an uncanny simulation of the Endplague.

Lan saw no reason why such a game would be appealing. In fact, due to its dangerous subject matter, such a game in the Empire might even be prohibited.

Yet here, in a donut shop on El Monte, three vintage Stargate machines were almost constantly in play, providing Starrgate Donut with a steady stream of quarters, from 6 A.M. to 2 A.M., seven days a week.

Why would they even create such a game? These creatures hadn’t yet discovered faster-than-light travel, let alone formed any sort of interstellar civilization.

Then again, for their technological level, this planet possessed an astonishing information network. It was actually fascinating. She had never encountered a planet that invested so much of its technology into communication.

Lan monitored local communications, messages, and media to glean all she could about this culture. Yet, the more she explored, the more disturbed she became.

For example, the planet’s scientists had already theorized a “Great Filter” and spoke of a “Fermi Paradox,” which Lan was sure were their first primitive conceptions of the Endplague.

Yet, instead of rushing to explore these theories, rather than discussing the speed of light, mortality, or entropy, their most popular communications were about film stars, religion, dating applications, games, and all matters of pornography.

Were they that backward? Were they too primitive to care?

Lan pulled some quarters from the register, and walked over to the Stargate machine. She dropped a coin in the slot, grabbed the joystick, and once again pressed play.