There was a blank screen, and I needed to break the writer's block. It's not a "true" story, but it is my first attempt at a humorous piece. I hope you all enjoy, and Merry Christmas to you all!
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Across the multiverse, or rather through it, there is a factor that rarely changes despite the liquid status of every “absolute” intellectual life is recording. Philosophers wager it has to do with a bottom-cap for moral distinction. Humans call this “humanity” but 98 percent of species wouldn't know what a human was if it jumped up and threatened to eat detergent in front of them; so their opinion doesn't really matter, does it? Sociologists hypothesize the constant exists as a base form of institutional organization. Certain groups feel this is the most likely truth, but their agreeable sentiments stem from sociopolitical motivations for monetized victimization more than academic reasoning.

Ironically, the sociologists are not far off with their assumption. Though the degrees of culture vary greatly, organic and non-organic life tend to combine themselves under a common banner.

While not many have delved into researching the topic (honestly, one would think a realm of infinite realities possessed one curious educated mind) bored fishermen on Saguris 5 have mused what the one unalterable fact of life is.

“Feckin' taxes,” they grumbled, “you can't get away from those, now can ya?”

Had Polarity Rigor been present to hear the cynicism, it would've rejoiced at the revelation. Stumped by the question of why the cent had any value in the Vortian economy, it decided on pursuing other unsolvable mysteries. It wouldn't have been mentally capable of dissecting the fisherman's statement, much less expand on it, but it would've come to realize how utterly inept it was at thinking. Rigor was never one for external criticism but had he come to the conclusion himself then he'd have taken another position in life and become the figurehead for a perfect government. This government would've been capable of fixing every social issue in the multiverse. As such, it would've outshone all the other governments and become the one government to usurp them all. It would've done so peacefully, that's how great it could have been.

As coincidence had it, Rigor died after locking himself in his saucer by accident. Being so utterly inept at thinking, he didn't reach the solution that the doors only lock to the outside before he starved to death—which is a long process for a dull Vortian. They only expend energy when they think and reach correct answers. Vortian celebrities are rumored to live forever.

In his absence, the perfect government never formed. The intelligent creatures behind it did attempt to gather the governing body. Lacking a face the general population of the multiverse could relate to, the government sunk, however. Turns out that creatures willing to eat some detergent and pretend they aren't dull make for likable politicians.

The humans rose to a dominating role and formed MUM, the Multidimensional Union of Mankind.

Polarity Rigor passed away unknown, and the innumerable realities came to learn what humans are. Though all seems lost for the ideal government, there is hope for them. There are plenty of dull creatures in the galaxies. One day, or night, a champion spokesman will rise and create the Canavian government.

This isn't their story. It isn't Rigor's. Put MUM on the back-burner, because they aren't the main staple either, though they do turn up quite often.

No, what this tale is about is a spectacular adventure of unmatched excitement. Many shall state such a claim is horribly erroneous. Considering the audience and the work are aware of the multiverse, it cannot be the most exciting story because there is an infinite number of more exciting adventures taking place at every point in time. People shall additionally put forward the writer is plucking out reality and dropping in their own.

To those people, please be aware the substitution of reality does not negate its validity where infinity is concerned. In some dimension the claim that this story is the biggest thing since taxes is true. According to Berknferk's essay, Infinite: Yeah, It's Horribly Much More Than A Wee Bit Complicated, organic life simply cannot manage to fully conceptualize how every possibility and improbability is true and active in another plane. “The whole thing is a lot to take in you know? Just do your best with your wet meat that can sometimes do mental math without calling for finger-counting.” Says Berknferk, “Being honest here, evolution really screwed many of us. Some don't even have fingers; can't imagine their test scores.”

The author of this story, a bold thespian, endears drama so here's a necessary warning: take note dear readers, for the universe is a big place. Most can't comprehend how big, but add in a limitless number of universes and one might as well just give up trying as Berknferk explained. The places and people included in this work are real, but they do not exist, which is a nice loophole to use their likeness without obtaining permission. All one can do is bundle themselves up in a suspension of disbelief. Go on and do so now. The suggestion is being made, not because it makes the writer's job much easier, but because they genuinely care about the reader's sensitive faculties. Personal responsibility isn't something to be carelessly shirked, permit the disbelief to suspend itself to the heavens.

Wrapped and ready? Allow the story to be underway then.

Taxes were decided to be the one unalienable thing present in every reality, not by some nebulous chance, but because of a recent truth. Someone, or something, must enforce them. The Multidimensional Union of Mankind was denied the forefront spot of main-character in this epic, but they are the cause of it. They enforce a lot of taxes across the dimensions.

MUM is a massive foundation. They have appointed themselves as the rulers over any and all mankind. Their appointment generally goes unnoticed by human colonies and planets. Unless they've obtained interdimensional travel, those groups are left to develop undisturbed. Interference from MUM is prohibited, excluding the cases where MUM steps in before other outside factors begin or threaten to influence them. Make no mistake, even though they are predominately left alone MUM considers those unaware humans as part of their collective. Any unapproved contact will result in appropriate punishment. They are still taxed as members of a mega-ultra-super-duper enormously enormous federation, and so they're protected as such.

To any unaware humans who are reading for the story, the publication is not accountable for any mental damage that stems as a result of a hasty mind-wipe procedure. Responsibility has been legally removed because the tale includes a disclaimer, though any suing parties likely won't be able to recall why or who they want to sue.

Mental resets are known to be a common deflective action MUM uses. Did a farmer witness a HUMO (Humankind Universe and Multiverse Observations) scout ship abduct a cow for an impromptu BBQ? Wipe the mind, and wipe your hands clean. Did a mother hear some incriminating late-night banter from two careless agents through the baby monitor? Mind-wipe, but be sure she doesn't forget she had a child. Did an entire nation televise the clear passing of a cruiser? Better destroy the planet; that's too many people to individually mind-wipe. Don't forget to firmly reprimand the lad in charge of pressing the cloaking button as well. It's not like it's his only job or anything.

Let it also be made clear that the story cannot be held accountable for any sudden planet-incineration as a result of too many people reading this. Take turns reading and forgetting, and favorite the page so the tale may be found later after the ensuing mind-wipe.

Should the planet be incinerated for having learned too much, know it wouldn't be the first time.

Planet annihilation has and will happen. Complaints against the practice may be submitted at the nearest MUM station. Instances of Earth typically have a station within seven or eight light years.

The author has included the information for any grieved parties. After all, this tragic story could've been avoided had Cadence been aware there was a process of appeal. If only he'd known to submit a request and where to send it. Then again, perhaps the knowledge would've been entirely useless as his primitive earth didn't have ships capable of traversing the relatively short distance to the nearest station. Their ships were akin to space-canoes compared to the standard fare the other MUM members utilize for travel.

Whatever the case, Cadence is the protagonist MUM set the stage for when they made to discreetly enter the atmosphere and collect the tax they were due.

Jerry T. Berry, the resident cloaking button-pusher on the tax-collecting cruiser IRS (a coincidence relevant to a fraction of the different Earths), had distracted himself for the second time since joining MUM's collection fleet. He'd discovered a wonderful pastime to whittle away the many days when he didn't get to push the lone red button on his otherwise barren desk. After this recent incident, he'll never again touch mobile gaming. If he fails in his duty a third time he's liable to be suspended for a week. The missus would be mighty cross with him should that occur.

It is also unfortunate for those people who were on the incinerated planets. May whatever deity the majority prayed to be kind to them.

When questioned why he failed to push the button, Jerry told his commanding button-pusher supervisor, “To be frank, sir, the three different lights on my station are confusing. Green, yellow, and red are quite demanding.”

The supervisor, an agreeable man who didn't wish to invoke ire from the button-pusher's union, mumbled his understanding. There'd be a change to the setup and the number of lights would be reduced from three to one. If it's on, push the button. When the light is off, make sure the cloaking is off as well. “But,” the supervisor grumbled, “strike three shall result in non-negotiable temporary leave. Paid, of course.”

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if he slipped up thrice. What was one planet when there was an infinite number of them out there? The people would be making a worthy sacrifice. When was the last time he got to take his wife on vacation? A paid vacation. Anyone would let a planet be swept away for that.

Cadence didn't share the opinion. Earth, his Earth, meant quite a deal to him, and it'd been destroyed while he was held on the IRS. He was the individual who revealed the cruiser through a type of instant broadcasting known as “livestreaming”. His involvement deemed him eligible for a trial in a court of martial law. An officer was sent to the surface and detained the primitive human who gave the feeble excuse, “Can you blame me for wanting instant fame?”

The officer hailed from a world where internet renown never existed. Video platforms were restricted to necessary information sharing, not entertainment. In his eyes, Cadence attempted to reveal MUM to his fellow earthlings like a typical spoilsport. He'd seen plenty of similar troublemakers over the years. The earthling wasn't aware of how severe the consequences for his actions were going to be. MUM didn't publicly post laws prohibiting the filming of government ships or officials, so the 20-something-year-old kid didn't have to worry about a hefty personal sentence, but they had to pin the planet's destruction on someone. Better for a young man's conscience to bear the guilt. Mistakes are human. Jerry T. Berry didn't deserve such a crushing weight just because he had a human moment. Maybe the kid didn't either, but he was practically a caveman. He wouldn't know how to work the cloaking button, the officer reasoned, so let him deal with the soul-crushing burden knowing his video resulted in the absolute obliteration of all he has ever known. Give him a couple rocks to bang together and he'd probably forget his old world.

Cadence experienced the lackluster judicial process aboard the tax-collection ship. It took under two minutes for the jury to issue a sentence. Since he knows too much, Cadence can no longer return to his home planet. Yes, they knew it was destroyed. No, they were not going to consider a new punishment. He would be dropped off on the closest world their records showed as a full MUM member. Under their current course, they were headed for a small jungle planet recently acquired and colonized for logging.

Colonies always appreciate extra workers. It was likely the town would set him up with a job and a place to stay. If the IRS' crew were lucky, they'd be refueled and off-planet faster than he'd realize his freedoms had been stripped from him beneath martial rule.

Explaining his new citizenship was a perfect task for the colony's mayor. Assuming they'd be able to make contact before entering orbit, the welcoming party they'd set up would operate as the perfect distraction. It'd been a little over five years since the last ship touched down at the colony. Hungry for news, the colonists would cling to the kid and pull him away. Didn't matter to them if he came from MUM or not. The break from the tedium was a reward in itself. Not only did Grovek possess fantastic jungles, it had a surplus of valuable ore. Those workers constantly exhausted themselves logging and mining.

Captain Fargo believed his jury made an ideal decision to send the earthling to the colony. Grovek was isolated and visited by collection ships that came to retrieve its materials every half decade. Their minuscule economy hinged entirely upon physical labor that'd keep Cadence busy and tired. The probability he'd escape on a ship was extremely low. Once the IRS dropped him off, they'd never have to think of him again. Fargo believed his justice was unrivaled in its execution. Fair and blind, just the way he liked it. He was on a fast-track to becoming the captain of a Judicial cruiser; his mother would finally be proud. Once they got back to the hub, Fargo'd march up to the debriefing chief and hand over the freshly printed hearing records. Records, as it were, printed on mint colonial paper.

Had the humans stopped using paper and ink, there wouldn't be a need for logging colonies. Futuristic architecture hinged on glass and metal. Wood didn't appeal any longer. Grovek wouldn't have existed if wood wasn't necessary.

The next stop beyond Grovek was Patamarine, an honest city-planet, which Cadence may have integrated into well. Fast food, boutiques, arcades, bars, and government offices—Patamarine boasted everything a civilized society demands.

If only mankind used their computers to deny the need for paper as they originally intended, then tragedy never would've struck the IRS. The cruiser and its crew fell into chaos due to random chance and man's love of flattened tree pulp.

Cadence survived the crash by sheer coincidence...