Our Greatest Mission

“I’m not going to lie to you, son. This is our most important mission since the Mars rovers. Hell, maybe since Apollo 11.”

“What is it, sir?” the captain asked.

“We need you to make a delivery,” the general replied.

“A delivery, sir?” The captain tried to keep the incredulity from his voice and failed spectacularly. The general stood and opened the blinds to the windows behind the desk. The captain walked over to peer through the slats. Outside, several large cranes were applying the finishing touches to enormous signs.

They read: “Out of Order.”

“‘Out of order,’ sir?”

“That’s right, son. After many multimillion dollar research studies, it is the opinion of the United States government that humanity is completely fucked up. We’re just too far up our own asses to deal with any other sentient life. We need you to fly these signs out to various strategic points in the solar system to warn off any potential visitors. Once we get our shit together, we’ll take them down.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Godspeed, son.”

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