The bulletin went out, a single drop of ink in the ocean of the OmniNet. But this drop carried the weight of the Terran Federation, and it spread like a tidal wave.
On a grimy asteroid station known as Scrapper's Maw, the bulletin flashed onto the bounty board. A hulking, four-armed mercenary named Grokk spat a wad of chew-stim onto the floor. "Economic destabilization?" he grumbled to his partner. "What's next, a bounty for overdue library fees?" His partner, a sleek reptilian with cybernetic eyes, zoomed in on the data. "Don't be so quick, Grokk. The Federation isn't offering a reward. But a man who can do… that," he said, pointing a claw at the looping Noodle Incident clip, "is worth a fortune to the right corporate buyer." Grokk's four eyes lit up with greedy interest.
On the gleaming, sky-piercing headquarters of the Galactic News Network (GNN), executive producer Myra Vance slammed her hand on her holographic desk. "This is it!" she declared to her newsroom. "Forget the political squabbles in the Andromeda sector! This is the story of the century! The mystery man, the noodle cult, the economic chaos! I want a full documentary team on this. Find him! I don't care what it costs."
And on the bridge of the Xylos Federation research vessel Stardust Drifter, a spindly, multi-jointed scientist named Dr. Aris squinted at the bulletin with all three of his eyes. The energy signature profile attached to the report was… familiar. He ran a search through his ship's deep-storage archives, cross-referencing old, low-priority anomaly reports. After a moment, a file flagged three weeks ago popped up.
SOURCE: Survey Drone TF-734. PILOT: A. Penwright (Resigned).
EVENT: Spontaneous Planetoid Formation. Class-Omega Life Signature Detected.
Dr. Aris's respiratory vents flared in excitement. "It's the same signature," he chirped. "The anomaly from the Penwright Report. Captain! We have its last known coordinates!"
Back on Port Zenith, the "WANTED" bulletin was not seen as a threat. It was seen as a holy text.
Manny projected the bulletin onto a giant screen above the Noodle Shrine. "Behold!" he preached to the cheering crowd. "The First Proclamation of the Unbelievers! They see our master's serenity, and they fear it! They call it a crime! We call it salvation!"
The followers, now numbering in the tens of thousands and possessing a collective wealth that could buy a small moon, decided to fight back. Clarice, the ex-data-clerk, led the effort. "They want to hunt him?" she declared to a roaring crowd. "Then we shall protect him!"
Within hours, the newly formed "Church of the Unbothered One" had hired the most expensive and ruthless law firm in the galaxy to formally sue the Terran Federation for "spiritual persecution." They also founded their own media channel, the Apathy News Network (ANN), which began broadcasting "True Facts About the Noodle Incident" 24/7.
Finally, they posted a counter-bulletin on all public and black market channels: "A reward of one billion Federation Credits to any individual or group who can provide verifiable information leading to the protection of the Unbothered One's sacred privacy."
Suddenly, half the bounty hunters in the sector, including Grokk, were faced with a difficult choice: a vague, potential corporate payout for capturing a man who could dodge plasma, or a guaranteed one-billion-credit payday for simply leaving him alone and ratting out anyone who tried to find him. The great hunt had immediately devolved into a chaotic, financially-motivated civil war of information.
Leo woke up because he was hungry.
He sat up in his impossibly comfortable bed, blinking in the gentle, tri-colored sunlight. The last few weeks—or whatever it had been—of uninterrupted sleep had done wonders. He felt a deep, abiding sense of peace. But also, a faint craving.
He remembered the noodles from the stall on Port Zenith. They had been greasy, overly salty, and probably made with synthetic protein, but right now, they sounded like the most delicious meal in the universe.
He held out his hand and concentrated on that memory. A simple ceramic bowl materialized in his palm, filled with steaming, fragrant noodles. A pair of chopsticks appeared next to it. He didn't question it. He just accepted it.
He sat on the edge of his bed on his private beach, slurping down the perfect replica of the very meal that had made him the most famous and most wanted man in the galaxy. He had no idea that forces of law, media, science, and religion were all now scrambling across the cosmos, their attention singularly focused on him.
He finished his meal, placed the empty bowl on the sand where it vanished with a soft shimmer, and lay back down. It was time for a post-lunch nap.
Aboard the Stardust Drifter, Captain Eva Rostova looked at the confirmation on her screen. "Dr. Aris, are you certain?"
"Absolutely, Captain," the scientist chirped, his appendages vibrating with excitement. "The energy signature is a confirmed match, and the planetoid is not on any known star chart. This is it."
Captain Rostova nodded, her expression firm. "Helm, lay in a course to these coordinates. Engage the warp drive. Maximum velocity."
The research vessel turned, its powerful engines charging. In a flash of brilliant blue light, it vanished, streaking across the void on a direct intercept course with Leo's quiet, peaceful world.