First page from a short-story I'm writing:

[Anonymous No.5218632]

Across the Green Hills of Davernon

“Hey guys, over there.” Ricard points over to a stop. I’m quite certain that he has in mind rations, but we are nearly out of credits. So we may be only able enough to purchase a couple of items and water. “Yes, I see,” notions Charles. He stops the shifter. “Looks like there are charger stands, rations, and water.” I look out of the foggy, mist covered window. A rectangular, small building attached to a tall overhead covering the charger stands, lies ahead. The driver parks the shifter at a stand - though, we do not need to refuel. We step out. “Ricard, be a gentleman and order meal packages. Preferably minimal credit cost rations. Meanwhile I’ll refill our water tanks.” A man with a shaved head and a black, seemingly expensive black windbreaker on, nods and goes inside the shop. The auto-bot comes out of the shop. “Hello, may I help you?” the human sized gadget asks me. “No, thanks,” I reply. “Can you tell me how far I am from Oranion road?” I ask the bot. “I’m sorry but I’ve never heard of that destination and my files do not have such entry.” Fine, I say, and return to filling the water tanks. The auto-bot goes back into the shop.
I’ve been thinking about my records, my government identification records. Upon signing up for the trip, I was told that I may have trouble with I.D. afterwards due to the job’s class level. Secrecy. Already, my accounts seem to not be doing well. So I’ve been relying on Charles’ letting me borrow credits for refuel of my shifter. The last time I did a trip my accounts were closed briefly as well. Rearranging of social ultimates, possibly. “Ricard, did officer Pierson tell you how your accounts would turn out? Mine seem to be slightly unordered.” He holds away his cigarette. “Yes, he said it’d be so for a few weeks. I think Charles’ is fine since he was only here for observation. Isn’t that right Charlie?” The driver nods. “Yes, not so classified level. Bring up your concerns to Pierson on our return guys.” If only we could find the god-damned portal, then we would be the hell out of here and I’d be sipping a beer at home. Endless open, grassy spaces in all directions. Hills, tons of them, smoothed among the face of this zone. “Quite beautiful, isn’t it, Valier?” asks Charles. “Certainly.” It’s the first time any of us has been to this zone. It’s quite far out of our normal regions.

[Anonymous No.5218636]

Across the Green Hills of Davernon

Fourteen days. It’s been two weeks, and we are still driving towards the portal. There is constant rainfall. We’ve seen a few life-forms. Mainly cow-hybrids and auras. The auras are quite beautiful and the reader on my shifter says the auras, colorful, are neural network essences transferred upon death from inhabitants of this planet to space. Upon exiting a hill, we see auras streaking the surroundings. “How many old cranks you think decided to go out with pizzazz and wander about for eternity as auras?” About at least fifty thousand so far, responds Ricard. “Do you ever talk, Valier? You’re always so quiet and aloof.” I look towards Charles’ direction. He’s steering the shifter. “Of course, but, yes, I’ve been known to be reserved.” “Ah,”says Charles. I’m going through our item box. Rations, pills, and a couple of knives. I pick out the biggest knife. I’ve decided to kill a cow-hybrid for food. Luckily, there is no law forbidding killing of the creatures, according to the shifter’s reader. “What are you doing, Valier?” asks Ricard. “I’m going to gut one of these cows. We’re running out of rations.” So, upon setting a detour route approximation to where we think the Oranion portal is, we proceed to put down a cow for lunch.
It’s mildly sunny out, the rain has ceased, and the gray clouds have ebbed a bit. There are about one-hundred and fifteen cows and cow-hybrids surrounding us. The shifter can’t hit any of them so we’re forced to kill them with a knife and our pure body power. “Ricard, go next to that cow by itself. Stand next to it. You too, Charles.” I motion Charles towards the opposite side of Ricard. I then stab the cow above the rear side of it’s neck. Repeatedly. It let’s out an oom but puts up no fight and dies on its side. “Alright fellows, let’s put this baby to the fire and make some chow,” I say.

[Anonymous No.5218827]

bump

[The Knight of Mirrors !!s2lmlI8P60f No.5218834]

Abhorrent. "Filtered," as they say

[Anonymous No.5218842]

There was no Beatle named Ricard so I dunno what you are even writing about

[Anonymous No.5219065]

>>5218842
The beatles or this story, which is the greater?