Vain Star A titanic, fat, star-shaped spaceship cruises along the edge of the galaxy. Here, verily, is the king of the red light district. Neon lights stud each arm, waves of color ripple across its dented metal skin. A huge beacon on its face slams out a supernova of light on the beat. The ship shakes at the stomping of 1,000,000 feet and the nodding of 500,000 heads. Music pounds through every deck, all day, all week, for all time, fueling a never-ending party. Even passing comets say, 'damn.'
Viva.