It’s been an honor to work on this Death Star. I love the aesthetic. I love how I’ve been able to pursue my greatest passion: destroying planets and pressing buttons. I love my little hat that is a sunshade for no reason! I love the easy-to-access computer interfaces, the blast-door equipped hallways and that one area we can access only by pressing a button to extend a bridge. Our design always made a lot of sense to me! And I love our reliable trash disposal system and the little one-eyed tentacle fella that lives in it. In general, I’m proud of this station and of what we’ve achieved on it, together.
Sure, there have been moments with which I disagreed. Lord Vader and I don’t always see eye to eye; in fact, I have no idea where he is looking in that creepy helmet of his. I didn’t like when he tried to choke my colleague, or my other colleague, or that additional different colleague who later passed away. But I stayed at my post because I knew that my work mattered, and I was helping Grand Moff Tarkin keep the regional governors in line.
I understand that there might be some confusion about what exactly I’m doing, and why I’m doing this now, but I don’t think there should be. I am objecting, on principle, to staying on this Death Star for a single additional second. To those of you who would question my motives: I did know for a long time that the place I worked was a Death Star, but I have to say, until today, I didn’t understand that it was also very vulnerable to assault by a small one-man fighter because of a design flaw!
Destroying planets and using fear of this battle station to keep the local systems in line was my No. 1 passion until — about 30 seconds ago, weirdly! That was when I saw the X-wings that had evaded our turbo-lasers and were proceeding down a trench toward our vulnerable thermal exhaust port — and realized I had to speak up. I thought: What if remorselessly destroying planets isn’t my passion? What if my real passion is staying alive and avoiding the consequences of my actions?
The only thing I hate more than the population of the planet Alderaan, who totally deserved it, is consequences. Consequences and not having a job! I think any galaxy in which I had to face a consequence for my past work on this weapon would be a sad one. That would be divisive and the last thing we need. So I hope that when the history of this moment is written, I will be remembered as someone who stood on principle.
Technically, I am standing on an evacuation shuttle, if I can make it there in time. But mostly principle.
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