I was 30 AU’s outside the horsehead nebula, on the edge of the system. When the -tosh began to take hold. I remember stumbling out of my chair and calling out to Webster, the ships onboard Logic Circuit or AI or whatever the fuck you want to call it, “Webster, you should probably know this. I just Noz-binged a whole canister of Cosmitosh and I'm starting to feel it. Maybe you should drive” without missing a beat that happy-go-lucky tin can goes “Sure thing, Tracy! Now engaging Autopilot mode, destination; Bay City’s current position near the Horsehead Nebula.” I couldn't help but wonder how it would’ve gone if I had gone with that YSD ship that didn't have a logic circuit, it was a beast of a machine in the speed department don't get me wrong. But their build quality left a lot to be desired. It wouldn’t be much of an adventure if I had to deal with the interstellar equivalent of a jaguar breaking down after less than 5 Surf-Drive Jumps and I would be too gone to even take care of it. That would be like going to go see a movie and with every scene change the projectionist stopped the movie, stuck his head out of that tiny ass window, just to tell the entire theater his opinion on the movie. Just then, The radar blips, Distress Signal it said. "Well fuck me," I muttered. "I'm not capable of such a request," Webster chimed. Ignoring him, I dragged myself to the comms panel. “Webster, get a scan on that ship would ya?” “You got it, Tracy!” on the main screen of the bridge a closed circuit feed of the ship in question was seen. The whirr of the sensor array rumbled the ship ever so slightly as it scanned the ship. Upon looking at the ship I noticed one of the engines was out and spewing coolant like a frat boy at a toga party. After a minute of waiting I still got no response from that damn Logic Circuit. “Well?” “Well what, Tracy?” Webster asked, absolutely oblivious. “The status of the ship!” I exclaimed in frustration. “Oh, I was waiting for you to ask for the report.” I had to pause for a moment at the sheer dumbassery I have to endure at the hands of an outdated AI that seems to operate on Star Trek Logic. “Just... tell me the damn status, Webster.” “The Ship is currently disabled, it is a 2092 Yamamoto Stratton-Dynamics Suisei Cargo Trim, engines 2 and 4 are leaking Surf coolant. Surf-drive and Defensive Systems are offline. 5 life-signs aboard. Estimation Until the toxic surf coolant breeches life support systems 45 minutes 32 seconds and falling" I shook my head at the report, “The VW bus of the Cosmos. No wonder it shit itself. YSD making a reliable starship will be the day that Daemonialla freezes over." I sat back in my chair and pulled a cigarette from my metal case. I packed it on the edge of my palm before lighting up and taking a deep drag. “Get them on the screen, would ya?” With a chime the feed broadcasted to the main view screen unsure what it would bring, could this be a trap by some strung-out psychopath? Maybe some poor cargo ship pilot who's late on his deliveries. Right then, I was looking at the person on the other side of the screen. Their demeanor? Wiggly. their eyes? Dilated. These guys are probably higher than I am. There were about 5 of them in the shot. The one in front of the camera was the one in charge here, it was obvious. They’re a group of Joy-Riders; Post-Arrival Hippies, not like the old hippies of the 1960s and 70s, these guys believe in the celestial properties of the cosmos. Being “awoken to the void” as they say, unlike real deal hippies (who found the idea of leaving earth to be Inconceivable) they splintered off and started doing their own thing. Traveling the cosmos, taking odd jobs, and selling handmade goods and trinkets, lots of jewelry made from Asteroid Ore. “This is Tracy Lawrence of the C.S.S Gonzo I see you’re havin’ a bit of trouble." The body glittered Joy-Rider captain looked back at their crew for reassurance, the crew gave a thumbs up and trained her eyes on me. “Greetings and Salutations, I am Cassiopeia, Captain of The Void Sailer, …what can I do for you?” She said in a distinct tone that told me they were just as much weary of me as I was of them, so I softened my expression to ease her visible anxiety. “I see your leaking warp coolant leaving you dead in the water so to speak,” the captain's head tilted in visible confusion. “What?” The gaggle of joy riders behind her all began to whisper to each other. “…Your engines, 2 and 4. They’re leaking warp coolant into space,” I said patiently. After a while the look of realization that washed over their faces was insane. These guys were so blasted on Super EX they forgot their ship was disabled and adrift. Cassiopeia then finally said something in the long silence. “Oh right, I had forgotten about that,” another silence ensued. Before we all burst out laughing “I imagine you need some help getting to a Starship Mechanic? I'm headed towards Bay City, I can tow your ship to one of the many repair hangars on the eastern side of the city. My shields are coming down you’re welcome to come aboard so y'all aren't at risk of Coolant Poisoning” I offered, tapping a button as a mechanical clank was heard from the universal entry port as the Joyriders docked onto my ship. They all floated in one at a time, landing gracefully on their feet after coming out of the microgravity inside the entryway into the lounge. It was like they’d just stepped out of a cosmic flea market, each one more decked out than the last. First up was Polaris, the dude looked like he’d been ripped straight from a 1970s holo-drama, long wavy hair and all. His crushed velvet top and pleather bell bottoms screamed "vintage enthusiast," but the pile of clinking necklaces made it clear he was more Joy-Rider than historical reenactor. Right on his heels was Alula, a redhead with a wild tangle of curls that matched her whole vibe. Her purple skirt flowed around her like she was caught in her own personal breeze, and the nebula pattern on her cardigan? Yeah, she knew exactly what kind of statement she was making. Then came Eos, whose long locs swung like a pendulum as he adjusted the wide-brimmed hat perched above his indigo-tinted glasses. This guy was clearly in it for the style points, and hell, I had to admit, it worked. Shortest of the bunch was Gemini, short light-brown hair, a lilac trumpet-sleeved shirt that looked like it belonged at some celestial festival, and wrists weighed down with enough bracelets to cause a minor gravitational pull. This one was hard to pin down, but between the moonstone and the way they floated into the room, I figured "mystical" was the right vibe for this little enby. Cassiopeia finally strolled in, looking every bit the cosmic ringleader of this traveling circus. Her bleach blonde buzz cut gleamed under the ship’s lights, and the body glitter made her look like she’d just emerged from some interstellar festival. She was rocking a mesh top layered over a tank, but what really caught my eye were the reinforced blood flow straps wrapped tight around her calves, holding everything together over her padded jeans, still a human staple, even 300+ years into the future. The gear wasn’t just for show either; it kept her from blacking out during high warp. Practical and stylish? Cassiopeia had it all down. They all seemed pleased when I pulled out a few joints from my private stash box, their worries about me seemingly faded away. I invited them to make themselves at home in the lounge where I love to vibe and entertain. They all filled in and sat on the collection of futon mats. The pillows and blankets I had there on the ground were for my excursions into a little medicinally induced mind expansion. They all sat together in what I can best describe as a group cuddle. Gemini plopped themselves down in Cassiopeia’s lap and immediately the captain began to play with their hair, much to their satisfaction. These guys were no doubt high on Super EX, a Psilocybin mushroom derivative that causes them to move in such a poised and dramatic way that's part Fashion Runway, part Legusian Ballet, it happens also to amplify the affection in some folks. Either that or these guys are engaged in a polyamorous relationship and either way, it's not any of my business. I sat across from them on the other side of this coffee table I had since my days at The Titan Lunar University. It was wood and covered in old faded dispensary stickers. They each looked around at my lounge, the long-haired one spoke up. “Woah, I really dig the decor you’ve got going on in here, It's just the right vibe.” My lounges’ walls were covered in old earth tapestry and concert posters, string lights, and a ceiling display of what was outside, right now it was the horsehead nebula as we were approaching the famous cosmic cloud formation. ”Thanks, I decorated it myself!” I exclaimed, despite how much of a shitshow this ship was in actuality, I can’t say I’m not proud of my interior decorating skills. Gemini, spoke up from Cassiopeia’s lap, “The vibes, the flower, This room fuckin’ eats!” “Yes, thank you. Your ship holds an excellent energy within it. This is perfect for our journey.” Cassiopeia said gently, her attention on me but her hand never left Gemini's head. “Speaking of your journey.” I started, taking out my lighter and flicking open the top before I lit the tip of the joint and took a leisurely drag. “Where were you guys headed before your coolant lines busted?” They all looked at each other for a bit as if trying to piece together their memories to relay what information they had to me. “We were headed to Beldesia Omega for the FM Grand Prix,” the man with the long hair spoke. I nodded and passed the joint to him, turning away to blow out the smoke I had been holding and coughed a bit into the crease of my elbow, no matter how often you do it there are still those times when you feel like a rookie again. “Ah, the Grand Prix, didn't take you a lot to be the type to go to the races,” I said, watching the joint as it rotated around the semi-circle, we found ourselves in. "I dig it, though. F.M. Pod Racing” modified escape pods tearing through orbit and atmosphere, it had become the galaxy's biggest sport. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gunned my pod along a Titan-class vessel for the adrenaline rush. “Some people don't,” Cassiopeia says, taking the joint between her long, slender fingers. “It's not all of us who are huge fans, it's mostly Polaris and Alula.” She said, motioning to the curly redhead and the man with long hair before taking a drag. “I could see that,” I said, lifting my glasses off of my eyes and giving them a quick rub. “You guys plan on placing any bets while you’re there?" The main reason people go to Beldasia Omega. “No, we have other plans,” says Cassiopeia, blowing out the smoke before moving to hand Gemini the joint which they happily did by holding onto her wrist and taking the drag from between her fingers. I shifted my attention to the map Webster displayed, 15 more minutes until we landed on Bay City and I’d drop them off at the repair bay. “And you? Where are you headed?” Eos asks, leaning forward with anticipation as the others follow suit soon after, I sit up a bit straighter and cross my arms. “Well, I’m heading out to to find the Casino at the Edge of Existence, I want to see what all the fuss is about and see why people do what they do when it comes to adventure, the risks they take, and the lengths they go through to get to the bottom of where their ambition drives them.” I muse before I can even catch myself, the only thing that snaps me out of it is a stifled laugh coming from my right, I glance over to see Eos covering his mouth before the rest of them all burst into laughter. I blinked in astonishment, wondering what anything I said in my statement would cause such a reaction before Gemini spoke up. “There’s no way you’re actually thinking of going there,” they say, trying their best to get their words out between giggles. “Yeah I am, is there a problem?” I ask, trying my best not to express my annoyance at them. “Forgive us, we don’t mean to crush your spirits,” Cassiopeia says, stifling her own giggles. “It’s just that… the Casino-” “It's a load of bullshit!” chimes in Alula “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, I just mean-” “It’s all a scheme, man.” Polaris pipes in this time, leaning forward and a bit closer to me. “Everyone who claims to have gone there never has any stories to share about the supposed edge of existence, how you supposedly become a Trillionare just by showing up? It’s just another false dream proposed to us to fuel the ultra-capitalist elite’s machine, you don’t know that by now?” I hate to admit it but this dude had a point, who knows what’s out there that someone else hadn’t already discovered, and who knows if it all would come up pointless, that just gives me more of a reason to go for it. “But where did the story come from?” I had asked. Each of the crew of the Void Sailer looked at eachother. “Where did it come from?” Polaris asked. “Yeah! Where did the myth come from?” The crew all began to make expressions of puzzlement and deep thought. Gemini piped up “The Strexians made it up like they made up DaVinci and Shakespere?” A popular theory of the origins of the legend. One that been vehemently denied by the Domiculus Academy of Planet Strexia, which sounds crazy until you consider the fact that they did, indeed make up Da Vinci and Shakespeare (among countless other historical figures), in fact, I’ve come to find out they’re both one in the same from a Stexian colleague. As for the theory, as far as i was concerned this was just popular folklore about the casino, no doubt to be a running theme in this entire series of articles. “If there is no casino, then I'm looking for the origins of the legend itself.” Upon hearing my defense, the whimsically dressed ship crew all looked at each other then me and simultaneously nodded in unison. The Super-EX is doing its magic with the cosmic kush no doubt.