In the darkness of space, ninety five balls zoomed from the heart of the sun in destination of mars. In them were 93 stranded mercurians on their way home and the two-men rescue team. Both humans were now sand orbiting a little white disk.

“Nikki?” asked the Jester to Nicholas the Chairman of the Visconti.

“Yes darling,” answered the former META.

“Are those stupid aliens trying to communicate with you with their stupid clicking noises. It is driving me nuts. I almost miss your music choices.”

“I gave up. I am not learning that language. Sounds like those Amazonian tribes.”

“Marilyn,” asked the Jester in the darkness.

There were seconds of silence. “My impotent friends. How’s the view? We are playing Round 30 and the Multiverse is acting up like a spoiled brat now. One song she is pissed.”

“As if I care,” said Maltais.

Marilyn had the longest and most genuine laugh. She obviously loved these men. “You don’t.” She barely was able to spew out the words. “What do you want?”

“The noises of these insects,” he said.

“Really? Ronaldo was able to communicate with them the moment he shared their forms.”

“Software upgrade,” joked the Chairman.

Marilyn laughed for a full minute. It was infectious. “You know how long since I last laugh this much?”

“You should hang with us cool kids more,” offered the Jester. “We get to bully the nerds. Lots of those around.”

Marilyn continued to laugh. God she liked the two men. Their intellect was refreshing. “Joking aside,” she was finally able to add, “you need me to translate?”

“No, just tell them to shut the fuck up!”

She explained. Marilyn laughed for almost an hour without a hint of interruption. It was the little things that mattered. The computer intelligence began to formulate a solution where both of these men could stick around. She enjoyed their witty humor way too much.