In an office in the New Mother City's Cybernetic Body Registration Department, electronic communications rang out nonstop.
"Fuck! I'm from the Cybernetic Body Registration Department, not an interstellar docking company! What the hell good does it do you to call me because your ship's blocking the way?"
"The Cybernetic Body Registration Department is now responsible for part of the registration business for starships and spacecraft, but only registration! We don't handle docking!"
"What do you mean, transfer me to customer service? I am customer service—the real player customer service! If you've got a problem, come settle it with me offline!"
"Our boss? Our boss went out to work. There's no point looking for him."
"You're looking for me? Looking for me is even more useless. I'm not even the original body! I'm just a second personality copied out to grind daily quests, that's all."
Compared to the players whose brains clearly weren't working right and who called to complain to the New Mother City, even more players directed their complaints at the spaceport.
Although there had always been plenty of spacecraft in the past, the port AI only needed to devote a small portion of its computing power to docking, and it could resolve the problem.
When it came to a minor issue like "docking," big data was more than capable of handling it.
But for some unknown reason, the spaceport AI had gone offline right where it stood today. If the players hadn't known that these AIs were NPCs, they would have thought this was some inconsiderate fellow player who had accepted a quest and then failed to do it.
Things were noisy "offline," and the "forum" was just as chaotic.
In the end, a hacker player lazily revealed the truth.
"You're complaining here and there right now, but