SHE HAS THE MIC$BTCVRAXThe briefing
The orange-haired commander addressing a desk microphone in her dark spacecraft studio.
COMMANDER CAMVOL. UNREASONABLE

“Is this thing on? Good. Listen up.”

YOU'RE ON HER FREQUENCY.

Commander Big Titty

A MESSAGE FROM THE BRIDGE

One mic.
Zero indoor voice.

Black shirt. Bad webcam. Absolutely no intention of lowering her voice.

Commander Big Titty found the ship's PA system. Now every corridor is a group chat, every snack break is a briefing, and the rubber duck is second in command.

DO NOT TOUCH HER SETTINGS.

The meeting
follows you.

She asked for a wireless mic.
Engineering heard “more wire.”

The commander walks down a long spacecraft corridor dragging an absurdly long microphone cable.

OFF THE RECORD

This could've
been a snack.

The duck has tabled a motion.
She has tabled a pizza.

The commander holds a slice of pizza during a very serious lunch meeting with her rubber duck on an equipment case.
“Any objections? Didn't think so.”

Minutes approved.
Crumbs classified.

GET ON THE SAME FREQUENCY

No secret handshake.
Just the right channel.

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The commander has fallen asleep in her chair; her unplugged microphone and the rubber duck remain on the desk.

END OF BRIEFING

Even command
needs a minute.

The duck is covering her shift.