Vance Valentine adjusted his turquoise suit jacket and stared at his reflection in the dark studio screen. His pink skin glowed under the harsh overhead lights. His large eyes blinked twice as he practiced his signature smile. One day, everyone on Auster would know his face. He'd be the planet's top media personality—the name people said at dinner, the voice they trusted, the host they couldn't miss. But first, he needed the studio to look perfect. He turned and walked through the empty building. The walls were bare metal. The floors echoed with each step. The space had good bones, though. High ceilings meant room for proper lighting rigs. Wide rooms could fit cameras, desks, and guest seating. The structure could adapt to whatever he needed—news desk one day, interview setup the next, maybe even a cooking segment if that tested well. His magnificent cranium deserved a headquarters that matched his vision. Outside, the wind picked up and rattled the entrance doors. Vance pulled out his camera and snapped three photos of the main studio floor. He'd post them later with a caption about his thriving media empire. People didn't need to know the cameras weren't installed yet or that the control room sat empty. They just needed to see progress. He pocketed the camera and straightened his patterned tie. The building was his now. Soon, the broadcasts would start. Soon, his face would beam across every screen on the planet. He just had to make it look like he'd already arrived. He stepped outside and squinted at the open plaza across from his headquarters. A massive display stood there, its surface dark and dormant. Vance walked closer. The billboard towered above him, projecting nothing but shadows. He could picture it already—his face filling that screen, announcing breaking news to passing crowds. His voice booming across the plaza. People stopping to watch, to listen, to remember his name. The display used technology he didn't fully understand, holographic projections that shifted and changed. But he didn't need to understand it. He just needed to be on it. His skin would look perfect against those bright colors. His smile would reach everyone who passed. This was how legends started—one screen at a time, one broadcast at a time, until the whole planet knew Vance Valentine. He circled back toward his headquarters and spotted something in the loading area. A portable stage sat there, wrapped in pink curtains with a bright backdrop that seemed to shift colors when he moved. Vance grinned. He could take this anywhere—set it up in busy areas, broadcast live, draw crowds before the main studio launched. The pink curtains matched his skin perfectly. He'd look like he belonged on that stage, like he was born for it. He pulled out his camera again and climbed onto the platform. He held the camera at arm's length and snapped a photo of himself with the colorful backdrop behind him. The image looked professional, confident. He'd post it with a caption about his upcoming live shows. People would see a star on the rise. They'd remember the name Vance Valentine, and when his broadcasts finally went live, they'd already be waiting.

Vance Valentine needed a camera operator, and he needed one today. He couldn't run his media empire alone—not if he wanted to be in front of the lens where he belonged. He stood in the empty studio and pulled out his camera, holding it at arm's length to snap a photo of himself. The angle looked wrong. His magnificent cranium appeared slightly off-center, and the lighting didn't capture his best side. He lowered the camera and frowned. Every successful broadcaster had a crew, people who made them look good while they focused on being brilliant. He'd have to find someone willing to work for exposure and future pay. Vance snapped one more photo, this time with a confident smile that said he'd already solved the problem. He walked outside and circled around to the back of the headquarters. A metal structure caught his eye—tall and silver, with a curved dish pointing toward the sky. The Galactic Broadcast Dish gleamed in the light, its surface smooth and reflective. Vance stopped and stared at it. This was exactly what he needed to reach viewers across the entire planet. He pulled out his camera and took a photo of the dish, then another of himself standing proudly beside it. His pink hand rested on the metal base as he smiled. The equipment looked impressive, expensive, like something a real media empire would own. He'd figure out how to operate it later. Right now, he just needed people to see that Vance Valentine had the tools to broadcast to every corner of Auster. He walked back inside and sat down in the empty control room. The silence pressed against his ears. Starting a media career meant more than just having the right equipment—he needed to understand how everything worked together. The cameras had to connect to something. The audio had to flow somewhere. The signals had to travel through that dish outside and reach screens across the planet. Vance tapped his fingers on the desk. He'd learn it piece by piece, starting with the basics. Tomorrow he'd focus on the cameras. Next week, the audio setup. The week after that, the broadcast signals. Each step would bring him closer to his first show, his first audience, his first taste of recognition. He stood up and straightened his turquoise jacket. The dream was beginning. All he had to do was keep moving forward, one broadcast at a time, until everyone on Auster knew his name.