The Cosmic Career Museum

The System ordered me to collect “useless memories” and hand them over, or die.

I touched an old chef's ladle, and galactic roots sprouted from its handle.

I used a teacher's chalk, and the words I wrote could silence time.

In my hands, all this scrap becomes divine treasure.

An alien AI wants to prune all of humanity's emotions, claiming it will save the universe.

The System is rushing me to hand everything over, and the “Pruners” in deep space have already set their sights on me.

I laughed and tossed every memory I was supposed to surrender into a furnace kindled by my own soul.

“Why should saving the universe mean burying us?”

“This time, we'll build a beacon reaching the heavens, burning bright for every ‘useless’ life!”

[Cosmic Museum of Professions]... Who says a museum can't be a beacon tower?