The Wellness Wing Meltdown: Sol 825 on Mars
Colony Delta-9’s medical bay waiting room glows with the soft blue light of the Community Health Dashboard. Every colonist’s vital signs pulse in real-time across the wall—heart rate, body mass index, nutrient levels, hydration status. No privacy, no filters, no lies. Three wellness influencers sit on the mandatory ergonomic benches, waiting for their scheduled “health compliance reviews.” The smell of antiseptic can’t mask the undertone of desperation.
Above them, the dashboard flashes: “COLONIST #734 - TARA CHEN - MALNUTRITION WARNING - DAY 12”
Tara: (staring at her public stats) “Twelve days. Twelve fucking days of that alarm. Do you know what my Earth followers would think if they saw this? ‘SlimSpace Tara’ getting force-fed nutrient paste like a baby?”
Vera: (holding an ice pack to her neck) “At least you’re conscious. I just woke up from a three-hour sedation. Apparently leading a ‘guided oxygen fast’ is classified as ‘attempted atmospheric terrorism.’”
Priya: (scrolling her dead tablet from habit) “You triggered a habitat-wide alert. I just sold some relabeled saline. Now I’m on the ‘Medical Fraud Registry.’ It’s displayed in the cafeteria. Right next to today’s menu.”
The dashboard updates: “COLONIST #734 - INTERVENTION REQUIRED - MEDBOT DISPATCHED”
Tara: (panicking) “No, no, no! Not again. I can’t do the paste. It’s gray. It smells like copper. Last time it made me gain two kilos in three days.”
Vera: “Two kilos? My ‘premium algae detox’ turned out to be standard life-support spirulina. The same shit everyone gets. The AI announced it during morning assembly. ‘Colonist Vera Kane attempted to resell communal resources at 400% markup.’”
A medbot wheels into the waiting room, its singular purpose evident in the nutrient dispenser extending from its chassis.
MedBot-7: “Colonist Chen. Your body mass has decreased 8.3% in fourteen days. This exceeds safe parameters. Initiating mandatory supplementation protocol.”
Tara: “I’m on a specialized fasting protocol! It’s called intermittent—”
MedBot-7: “Negative. Colony records indicate you have consumed 1,247 calories daily. Recommended intake: 2,200 calories. Dispensing high-density nutrient paste.”
The bot extends a tube of gray, viscous liquid. The waiting room’s public screen displays: “EMERGENCY FEEDING IN PROGRESS - COLONIST #734”
Tara: (taking the tube with shaking hands) “My SlimSpace program has forty thousand subscribers. They pay $39 a month for my ‘Zero-G Weight Loss Secrets.’ What am I supposed to tell them? That I’m being force-fed by a robot?”
Priya: “Tell them? The fourteen-minute delay means by the time they see your ‘success story,’ you’ll be three kilos heavier. At least you still have subscribers. Mine found out my ‘quantum hormone syringes’ were just… saline. From the med bay. That I stole.”
Vera: (bitter laugh) “Stole? I convinced seventeen people to do my ‘Pranic Breathing Workshop.’ We sat in Dome C and held our breath. The O2 sensors thought we were dying. Emergency flush, medical intervention, and now I’m banned from all recreational areas.”
The dashboard flashes a new alert: “WELLNESS COMPLIANCE REVIEW - VERA KANE - REPORT TO EXAM ROOM 3”
Vera: “That’s me. Time to explain why teaching people to breathe less is ‘counter to colony survival objectives.’”
Tara: (still forcing down the paste) “You know what’s worse? The medbot logs everything. My Earth content scheduler is still posting my transformation photos. ‘Day 30 of my Mars cleanse!’ Meanwhile, this fucking dashboard shows I’ve gained four kilos.”
Priya: “Four kilos is nothing. I’ve been assigned to ‘Transparency Duty.’ I have to sit in the med bay and explain to new arrivals what every supplement actually does. On camera. Without filters. Under medical lighting.”
Vera stands as another medbot arrives for her.
MedBot-3: “Colonist Kane. Your recent actions resulted in atmospheric resource waste of 47 cubic meters. Please follow for remedial education.”
Vera: (to the others) “Remedial education. They’re going to make me watch a video about why oxygen is important. Like I’m five years old.”
Tara: “At least you’re not on the public dashboard as ‘Actively Malnourished.’ Do you know what that does to a wellness brand?”
Priya: “Brand? What brand? We’re on Mars. Everyone wears the same jumpsuit, eats the same printed protein, breathes the same recycled air. The only thing unique about us is our failure metrics.”
The main screen updates with a new announcement:
COLONY AI: Attention colonists. The Wellness Wing has recorded seventeen fraudulent health claims this month. Remember: All biological metrics are public property. Attempting to misrepresent, monetize, or weaponize health data will result in mandatory reeducation. Thank you for your cooperation.
Tara: (finishing the paste, gagging) “Seventeen? Who else is running scams?”
Vera: (being led away) “Check the board. There’s a new ‘fitness coach’ who claimed Mars gravity builds ‘explosive muscle.’ He pulled his hamstring doing a livestream jump. The rovers recorded him crying for twenty minutes.”
Priya: “And that ‘Clean Eating’ woman—June something. She’s in the flavor lab now, testing protein blocks. Mandatory. Every meal. They stream it to the cafeteria during lunch.”
Tara’s dashboard stats update in real-time: “NUTRIENT LEVELS STABILIZING - WEIGHT GAIN: 0.3 KG”
Tara: “Point three kilos. In ten minutes. My followers are going to crucify me.”
Priya: “Your followers? I have to do a public apology at tonight’s colony meeting. The agenda literally says: ‘Priya Sethi explains why selling fake medicine is bad.’ Like I’m in kindergarten.”
A new medbot rolls in, this one carrying what appears to be a presentation screen.
MedBot-11: “Colonist Sethi. Your educational presentation has been prepared. Please review slides 1 through 47 before tonight’s mandatory assembly.”
Priya: (looking at the screen) “Forty-seven slides? The first one is just a picture of actual medicine versus salt water.”
Tara: “At least you’re not literally expanding in real-time on a public dashboard. Look—” (points to her stats) “Point four kilos now. The paste is still processing.”
Vera’s voice echoes from Exam Room 3: “No, I understand oxygen is necessary for life. Yes, I know holding breath is not meditation. Can we please—NO, I DON’T NEED TO PRACTICE BREATHING.”
Priya: “She’s going to break.”
Tara: “We’re all going to break. You can’t run a wellness brand when a computer announces your bowel movements.”
Priya: “It does what?”
The dashboard helpfully updates: “COLONIST #734 - DIGESTIVE CYCLE INITIATED - ESTIMATED COMPLETION: 4-6 HOURS”
Tara: (head in hands) “It tracks everything. EVERYTHING. My ‘SlimSpace Secret’? The colony knows I haven’t shit in three days.”
Priya: (trying not to laugh) “Three days?”
Tara: “The low-calorie thing. It… affects things. The medbot prescribed me fiber supplements. PUBLICLY.”
From Exam Room 3, a defeated Vera emerges with a medbot escort.
Vera: “I have to teach a class. ‘Breathing for Beginners.’ For toddlers. Actual toddlers. It’s my community service.”
MedBot-3: “Incorrect. You will teach all colonists the importance of oxygen conservation. Starting with the toddlers. They show more understanding than your previous workshop participants.”
Priya: “We’re finished. All of us. Our brands, our followers, our income—”
Tara: “Income? What income? My payment processor flagged my account for ‘medical fraud’ based on the colony’s health reports. They’re refunding everyone.”
Vera: “Automatic refunds? Based on Mars data?”
Tara: “Apparently selling weight loss programs while publicly gaining weight violates Earth commerce laws.”
The Colony AI’s voice fills the waiting room:
COLONY AI: Reminder: Colony Delta-9 operates on transparent health protocols. Your wellness is our collective responsibility. Attempting to profit from false health claims endangers all colonists. Next wellness review in seven days. Compliance is not optional.
The three women sit in silence, watching their metrics pulse on the public dashboard. No filters. No angles. No lies. Just the brutal truth of their bodies betraying every grift they ever ran.
Priya: (quietly) “You know what’s really fucked? I actually believed some of it. The quantum hormones, the optimization, the biohacking. I thought I was helping people.”
Vera: “We all did. Until Mars showed us we were just selling air.”
Tara: “Literally, in your case.”
Vera: “Shut up, Force-Feed.”
The dashboard updates one final time: “WELLNESS WING EFFICIENCY REPORT: THREE FRAUD INTERVENTIONS COMPLETED. COLONY HEALTH METRICS: IMPROVING.”
In the medical bay waiting room of Colony Delta-9, three wellness influencers learn the hardest truth: on Mars, your body tells the truth, and everyone can see it.
The Influencer Apocalypse Series¶
Next Episode: The Alpha Lounge Catastrophe - Where Andrew discovers that masculine dominance means nothing when the colony AI controls your water rations, and his four-month-old cigar finally crumbles to dust.
Full Series:¶
- The Wellness Wing Meltdown (Current Episode)
- The Alpha Lounge Catastrophe
- The Content Creator Commons
- The Crypto Crater
- The Cafeteria Confessional
🔗 Interstellar Communications
No transmissions detected yet. Be the first to establish contact!
Related Posts
The Cafeteria Confessional: Sol 825 on Mars
In Colony Delta-9's main cafeteria, every failed influencer gathers for mandatory communal dinner. Under the merciless glow of the public health dashboard displaying their frauds in real-time, they eat identical protein cubes while watching their follower counts plummet like their relevance. This is where influence goes to die.
The Crypto Crater: Sol 825 on Mars
In the bowels of Colony Delta-9's water recycling facility, two former crypto moguls scrape bio-slime while their blockchain dreams decompose faster than the waste they're processing. When you're classified as 'Resource Negative' and the fourteen-minute delay kills your pump-and-dump schemes, diamond hands become shit-stained gloves.
The Content Creator Commons: Sol 825 on Mars
During Colony Delta-9's scheduled Earth broadcast window, three content creators discover that Mars has turned them into performance art. When your fashion NFTs are worthless, your adventure footage is exposed as fake, and your newsletter can't reach Earth during power failures, influence becomes impotence.