In the year 3026, the printers still fear management.
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Stargate, 3026
Monday morning crept upon Leonard, who slammed the audioforous alarm down with a swipe of his smartwatch-o-gram. He donned his office fleet pinafore. Flying to the office was impossible — he had released the air from his VR Nike shoes the night before.
The grand hallway of the office building greeted him, its laser beams glaring at him as if monitoring his conscience. They whirred upon his head.
“30 seconds late. The time will be logged.”
The automatic doors sighed open, and in rolled C3P6, golden circuits twisted and fatigued.
“Bad night?” Leonard queried.
C3P6 nodded. “I could not accomplish my primary function to forward all essential emails. HE will be extremely disappointed.”
Leonard nodded. “I understand.”
The doors sighed open again, sounding particularly cranky.
A tall figure walked in, decked in a black cape and a black, pharaoh-inspired metallic vest.
The new regional manager. Darth Radar. With a lanyard that shot time lasers at any sign of lateness.
The AI-powered copier shivered and regurgitated a few extra sheets more than required.
The caped figure stopped at Leonard’s table and gave him a glare.
“How may I address you?” the hassled employee asked, Monday-rattled nerves now completely frayed.
“I am your boss.”
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Darth Radar walked around the office slowly, barking ordinary commands with fervor. The conference room became a galaxy tribunal.
“Who approved this design? Send her to me now.”
“Who dared choose this color?”
The employees panicked, shuddering at the echo of his booming voice. Some dropped their pens. The printer emitted mechanical whines of despair.
One offered a timid salute.
The lights flickered dramatically, jumpy not just because of faulty tungsten.
Leonard had selected the color at random the day before.
Later in the day, R2 D7 rolled up to him and offered summons with a sympathetic swivel of his head.
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In The Boss’ office, the grand master slowly turned toward Leonard, black cape gently swatting his face. His pharaoh-shaped head and slanting eyes bored straight into Leonard’s skull.
“You chose that colour?”
The hassled employee gulped and nodded nervously.
“An excellent choice. Gold reflects intergalactic grandeur and elegance.”
Leonard’s legs nearly gave way beneath him.
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Leonard walked out of The Boss’ office, quietly closing the door behind him.
The doors sighed open.
The Boss emerged in his black robe and cape, finally caring to grace the office corridors with grand steps.
And stopped to reach for a cleaner and carry her, mouth wide open in shock.
He gently set her down on the floor and sucked up fallen leaves into the vacuum beneath his feet.
Leonard looked around the office. C3 P6 vainly trying to send emails through a stubborn server. R2 D 7 accidentally spilling cold coffee on the floor as he rolled.
Everyone was surviving an intergalactic Monday.
Even Darth Radar had to excuse poor filing systems —
Sometimes.
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Original story written by Michelle Liew Tsui-Lin for Geek Pride day. A celebration of nerdiness, technology, and Star Wars fandom.
Mirrors of the Mind by Michelle Liew is a collection of psychological and supernatural short stories that explore the quiet unease beneath ordinary moments. These are not tales of spectacle, but of subtle fracture — where memory distorts, silence speaks, and the self is not always singular. In these stories, what is unseen often carries the greatest weight, and what lingers is not what is shown, but what is felt.
