The lights remain off. I fumble around on the dashboard, pressing random buttons. It is comforting, though I am afraid I might accidentally press the "HONEST, BUT VERY HARSH CRITIQUE BY INCANDESCENCE" button. I've forgotten where it is.
"Um, Dr. Snoink," I ask. "What just happened?"
"You've changed tenses," she says. "Try not to do that."
'No, I mean the lights. Why are the lights gone?"
"lumoss!!1" The detox girl screams. Nothing happens.
"Nate?"
"What?" Nate snaps. I hear him pressing more buttons next to me.
"What happened to the lights?"
"I'm trying to fix it. I just have to find the light button. I know it's here somewhere."
"Acci0! Lightz buttin!" the detox girl contributes, unhelpfully. I decide to help Nate by sitting on the button bank. My unfortunate experience on the YBPS secret space base is getting more and more unpleasant by the minute. I fear, as I listen to the unhappy sounds of the YBPS that I am having a relapse of the dread disease Purple Prose.
In the pitch black darkness, my fumbling fingers brush lightly against a square glass box. I fiddle with it, and it what seems to be a lid slides slowly open with a click. Underneath it is a soft button. I press it with a trembling hand.
"Congratulations!" intones the smooth, emotionless voice of a computer. "You've pressed the Hyper-Drive-Let's-Get-Marooned-In-Space-And-Let's-Take-The-Cabassi-Family-And-SPEW-With-Us-Button! Engaging."
All goes silent.
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