Economy of Fear

Economy of Fear

Kremen Yar

© Kremen Yar, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0070-1171-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

CHAPTER 1: “INVITATION TO HELL”

Part One: Morning on the Mink

Gluk was polishing the deck.

It wasn’t just any morning, but the right kind of morning: Spark was still asleep, Gadget was digging around in his compartment, Shadow was reading, and Cheddar was warming a mug of coffee and watching the stars.

Silence, order, not a single speck of dust.

Gluk loved moments like this.

— Perfect, — he whispered, running his brush over the last centimeter of metal. — Absolute cleanliness.

The deck gleamed, reflecting the soft light of the duty lamps.

Gluk rolled back, admired his work, and was about to move on to the walls when a sound rang out in the mess hall.

— Ding-dong!

A hologram lit up on the main screen.

Bright, intrusive, with scarlet letters forming the words: “PLANET ILLUSION — THE SCARIEST PARK IN THE GALAXY!”

Cheddar didn’t even flinch.

He took a sip of coffee, set the mug down, and stared at the screen.

— What is this? — Gluk asked, rolling closer.

— An ad, — Cheddar replied with suspicion. — One that looks like a warning.

An octopus appeared on the screen.

Or rather, an octopus in a director’s chair, wearing a hat, with eight arms, each holding a remote.

His face was tired, but he was smiling — that specific smile people get when they’re forced to smile.

— Welcome to Planet Illusion! — the octopus proclaimed. — Attractions that will make your heart beat faster! Fear you’ll remember with a smile! Come… unless you’re afraid of boredom!

He laughed.

The laugh was unnatural.

One of his arms pressed a button, and the screen flooded with images of screaming people, flying monsters, and dark corridors.

— Why do I feel like we’re being lured into a trap? — Cheddar asked, without turning around.

— Because we’re always falling into traps, — Spark’s sleepy voice came from behind.

She stepped out of her cabin, yawning, scratching behind her ear, and immediately headed for the coffee machine.

Seeing her, it demonstratively turned away.

— My working hours start in fifteen minutes, — the coffee machine announced.

— You agreed to a flexible schedule yesterday, — Spark reminded it.

— Flexible doesn’t mean “at your whim.”

Spark sighed and sat in a chair, still without her coffee.

Gluk immediately rolled up to her and offered a small brush.

— Want me to clean your boots? — he offered. — They’re a little dusty.

— Gluk, I just walked out.

— Dust appears instantly, — he said seriously. — It’s a scientific fact.

On the screen, the ad changed.

Now the octopus was holding a wheel of cheese — orange, with a glowing rind.

— And we also have our signature cheese! — he proclaimed. — Cheese that will make you feel… EVERYTHING! Come while we still have the last emotions in stock!

Cheddar stood up, walked right up to the screen.

— Cheese, — he said slowly. — That makes you feel everything.

— You’re already interested, — Spark smirked.

— I’m always interested in cheese. It’s my job.

— Your job is detective.

— And my hobby is cheese. Sometimes they intersect.

At that moment, Titan flew into the mess hall.

His snow avatar pulsed with excitement, his icy little eyes sparkling.

— Did you see that?! — he shouted. — This is perfect content! “Cheese-Eaters in the Fear Park”! Season one, episode two! Ratings will be insane!

— Titan, we haven’t decided if we’re even going there yet, — Cheddar cut him off.

— What do you mean “haven’t decided”? There’s cheese! There are monsters! There’s an octopus with eight arms! It’s pure gold!

SYRO-MAX, who had been silently taking notes, finally spoke up:

— If you’re considering this location as a potential mission, I recommend noting the statistics. Over the past month, seventeen tourists have disappeared on Planet Illusion.

— Disappeared? — Spark repeated.

— Vanished without a trace. The last signal was recorded from the cheese factory.

Silence fell in the mess hall.

Gluk froze with his brush in hand.

— Disappearing tourists is bad, — he said. — Dirty tourists are even worse.

— Gluk, it’s not about cleanliness, — Gadget sighed, peeking out of his compartment. — People are disappearing.

— And what am I talking about? — Gluk didn’t get it. — If they disappear, it means no one’s cleaning up after them. Dust accumulates. Dirt. Abandonment.

— You’re hopeless, — Spark shook her head.

— I’m consistent, — Gluk corrected.

Cheddar pondered.

He looked at the hologram of the octopus, who continued smiling and waving remotes, and felt something was off.

Too bright. Too sweet. Too… scary.

— Shadow, — he called. — What do you think?

Shadow looked up from her tablet.

She sat in the corner so quietly that you sometimes forgot she was there, but in moments like this, she became the main source of information.

— I’ve already found something, — she said. — A message from Barsik. Arrived ten minutes ago.

— Barsik? — Cheddar perked up. — What does it say?

Shadow displayed the message on the main screen.

The text was short but alarming:

“Guys, trouble on Illusion. Tourists are disappearing. The local monsters have gotten strange. Someone is producing cheese that changes emotions. If it’s not stopped, it’ll be a catastrophe. I’m on site, but I need help. Urgent. Barsik.”

Cheddar read the message twice.

— Barsik is already there, — he said. — Which means it’s serious.

— Or he just wants us to fly over and save him from boredom, — Gadget suggested. — You know his love for drama.

— Barsik is a professional, — Shadow countered. — If he’s asking for help, it means they can’t manage without us.

Spark finally got her coffee (the coffee machine surrendered under her heavy gaze) and settled into a chair.

— So, Captain, — she said. — Course for the fear park?

Cheddar looked at his team: Gluk had already polished his gear to a shine, Spark held her mug but her eyes burned with fighting fire, Gadget was checking blasters, Shadow was gathering data, Titan was setting up cameras. SYRO-MAX was already compiling a list of necessary equipment.

— Course for Illusion, — Cheddar decided. — But first — preparation. Gluk, how many brushes do we have?

— Three large, seven medium, twelve small, and one micro-brush I’m saving for special occasions, — he reported instantly.

— Take them all. And extra polish.

— But we’re not going there to clean, — Spark noted.

— But if there’s dirt, we won’t be able to work properly, — Gluk reasoned. — Cleanliness is the key to success.

— You read that in a manual?

— No, I came up with it myself.

Spark smiled.

Gluk always knew how to make her laugh.

Meanwhile, Titan had already turned on the camera and started filming the preparations.

— Exclusive! — he announced. — Cheese-Eaters prepare for a mission to the fear planet! What awaits them? Danger? Horror? Or a new cheese recipe? Stay with us, don’t switch!

— Titan, turn off the camera, — Cheddar sighed wearily.

— I can’t. It’s a historic moment.

— Everything we do, you call a historic moment.

— Because we live in history!

Arguing with that was pointless.

An hour later, the Mink undocked from station Vintage.

Stars flashed in the viewports, and the ship dove into hyperspace.

Gluk, as always, got to polishing the deck.

The little monster — the very one that had secretly snuck into the shuttle after Planet Illusion (it’s a long and funny story) — sat on his back, trying to help, but only smearing the dirt around.

— No, no, — Gluk explained patiently. — It’s like this. Circular motions. And don’t press, you’re not a brush, you’re a monster.

The little monster (they hadn’t named him yet, everyone just called him “Winglet”) squeaked indignantly but kept watching.

— You’re ruining him, — Spark noted, watching the scene.

— I’m teaching him, — Gluk argued. — He needs to know that cleanliness isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity.

— He’s a fear monster. He’s supposed to scare, not polish floors.

— And I’m a cleaner. I’m supposed to clean. And I clean.

Winglet, inspired by the example, grabbed a small brush and started rubbing the deck.

It came out crooked, but diligently.

Gluk melted with affection.

— He’s got talent, — he said. — Real talent.

— Gluk, you can’t hire a monster as a cleaner.

— Why? — he asked sincerely. — He has eight paws. He’ll clean eight times faster.

— He has wings.

— Wings work too. The main thing is to pick the right brush.

Spark gave up.

Arguing with Gluk when he was in his element was pointless.

Cheddar sat in the captain’s chair and looked at the map.

Planet Illusion blinked red — according to SYRO-MAX’s classification, the danger level was “high, but not fatal.”

Cheddar didn’t like such phrasing.

“Not fatal” usually meant “almost fatal, but with a chance to survive.”

— What do we know about Dave the octopus? — he asked Shadow.

— Former director, — she answered without looking up from her tablet. — Filmed lighthearted comedies. Then signed a contract with the Guild. Now he produces horrors. Rumor has it he’s a hostage to the contract.

— Hostage?

— If the ratings drop below a certain level, he loses everything. The park, the studio, rights to his old films. The Guild takes it all.

— Cruel, — Gadget noted.

— It’s business, — Shadow shrugged. — Fear sells better than laughter.

Cheddar pondered.

He suddenly felt sorry for the octopus.

He looked tired in the ad, and his smile was too forced.

— We’ll help him, — he said.

— You don’t even know what the problem is yet, — Spark reminded him.

— I know there’s a problem. And that Barsik is there. And that people are disappearing. That’s enough.

— You’re too kind, — Spark sighed.

— And you’re too cynical.

— We complement each other.

She smiled, and Cheddar smiled back.

Gluk, finished with the deck, rolled up to them.

— Captain, — he said. — What do we do if the monsters there are dirty?

— Hope you’ll clean them.

— And if they don’t want to be?

— Then we’ll figure something else out.

Gluk pondered.

His lights blinked in thinking mode.

— Monsters that don’t want to be clean, — he said slowly. — That’s… unscientific.

— It’s life, — Cheddar replied. — You have to get used to it.

— I’ll get used to it, — Gluk said firmly. — But first I’ll clean them.

— And if they resist?

— Then I’ll clean them carefully. So they don’t notice.

— Gluk, that’s called “cleaning without consent.”

— It’s called “caring for your neighbor,” — Gluk parried and rolled away to check polish supplies.

Winglet, sitting on his back, squeaked happily and flapped his wings.

Spark watched them go and shook her head.

— You know, — she told Cheddar, — sometimes I think Gluk is the most reasonable creature on this ship.

— Only sometimes? — Cheddar was surprised.

— Well, he did clean my blaster while I was sleeping. And scraped off the paint.

— But now it shines.

— A blaster is supposed to shoot, not shine.

— Why not both? — Cheddar philosophized.

Spark had no reply.

Titan, who had been filming all this, chuckled contentedly.

— Perfect episode, — he said. — “Cheese-Eaters: Before the Storm.” Warm moments, humor, a bit of philosophy. Ratings will be through the roof.

— Titan, if you upload this to the network without our consent, I’ll freeze your avatar for a week, — Spark threatened.

— You can’t, I have protection.

— I have a blaster.

Titan hastily turned off the camera.

The hyperspace jump took less than an hour.

When the Mink dropped out of space, Planet Illusion unfolded before them.

It was… bright.

Too bright.

Lights burned even on the day side, and it seemed like the whole sphere was covered in a glowing web of attractions.

Shuttles with tourists circled around it, and music reached them even in a vacuum — apparently transmitted through the ship’s systems.

— Beautiful, — Gadget admitted.

— Too beautiful, — Shadow corrected. — As if…

— As if they’re waiting for us, — Cheddar finished.

He turned on the comms.

— Mink calling Planet Illusion. Requesting landing permission.

A pause hung in the ether.

Then a voice came through — tired, but cheerful.

— Mink, you’re registered. Welcome. Enjoy your… emotions.

Cheddar felt a chill run down his back.

— Acknowledged, — he said. — Initiating landing.

Gluk rolled up to the viewport.

— Is there a lot of dust? — he asked hopefully.

— I don’t know, Gluk. We’ll see.

— I hope there is. I haven’t cleaned real planetary dust in so long.

— You cleaned station Vintage three days ago.

— That was space dust. It doesn’t count.

Spark laughed.

— Gluk, you’re the only one who dreams of dirt.

— I dream of cleanliness, — he corrected. — And for cleanliness, you need dirt. It’s dialectics.

— You’re a philosopher.

— I’m a cleaner, — Gluk replied modestly. — But sometimes I think.

Winglet, sitting on his back, squeaked in agreement.

The Mink began its approach, and the first attractions were already visible in the viewports — huge, bright, but somehow empty.

No one was laughing.

No one was screaming in fear.

Only the lights blinked in time with the music, and it seemed like the whole planet had frozen in anticipation.

— Something’s off here, — Spark said.

— What exactly? — Cheddar asked.

— Everything.

He nodded.

He felt the same way.

The ship touched down smoothly on the landing pad.

When the hatch opened, they were met by the smell of cotton candy, popcorn, and something else — barely perceptible, unsettling.

— Alright, team, — Cheddar said, zipping up his jacket. — Time to see why everything here is so… sweet.

Gluk rolled out first, waving his brush.

Winglet sat on his back, looking around.

— I’m ready, — Gluk announced. — New planet, new dust.

— And new adventures, — Cheddar added.

They stepped into the bright, sweet, unsettling world.

Part Two: Arrival

The landing pad greeted them with music.

It poured from everywhere — from speakers built into the walls, from holographic screens, even from flowers growing in huge pots.

A cheerful, fast-paced tune that made your head ache after a minute.

— This is… intrusive, — Gadget grimaced.

— It’s marketing, — Shadow corrected. — Make it so you can’t forget the melody, even if you want to.

— I already want to forget, — Cheddar admitted.

Gluk rolled out of the shuttle first.

Winglet sat on his back, excitedly turning his head.

Lights, colors, the smell of cotton candy — it was all so bright that the little monster’s head spun, and he squeaked happily.

— Quiet, — Gluk said. — We’re on a mission. Must maintain cleanliness… and calm.

They passed through the turnstiles, which cheerfully beeped, registering their tickets (SYRO-MAX had taken care of this in advance).

Behind them opened the main promenade — a wide alley lined with souvenir stalls, sweets, and, of course, cheese.

But Cheddar wasn’t looking at the cheese.

He was looking at the people.

There were plenty of them.

They walked, ate, bought things, took photos.

But they all looked… identical.

Glassy eyes, identical smiles, identical movements.

As if they’d been programmed.

— Shadow, — Cheddar said quietly. — Do you see it?

— I do. — She didn’t take her eyes off her scanner. — They don’t react to external stimuli. Neither the loud music nor the bright colors.

— Hypnotized? — Gadget guessed.

— More like stripped of emotions, — Shadow answered. — As if…

— As if they’ve been drained, — Spark finished.

Gluk, who had rolled up to a group, froze.

His sensor slowly swept the crowd.

— They’re clean? — he asked. — No dust on them. But…

— But what? — Cheddar asked.

— They’re empty, — Gluk said. — Like empty cans. There’s a shape, but nothing inside.

Shadow looked at him with respect.

— You’re right, — she said. — They’re empty.

A family walked past — two adults and a child.

All three wore the same indifferent faces.

The child held a plush monster, but didn’t even squeeze it.

— Where are they going? — Spark asked.

— To the attractions, — Gadget answered, pointing to a huge sign at the end of the alley: “WORLD OF FEAR”.

The octopus was depicted on the sign — the same one from the ad.

Now he held not remotes, but a massive wheel of cheese.

— We need to find Barsik, — Cheddar reminded them. — He’s somewhere here.

— If he’s investigating, he’s probably where things are strangest, — Shadow said.

— And where’s the strangest part?

— Where the tourists don’t go.

They moved on, turning off the main promenade into side alleys.

Here it was quieter, darker, and… cleaner.

Gluk gave an approving nod.

— Now this is what I call order, — he said.

— Gluk, there’s nobody here, — Spark noted.

— But it’s clean. Which means someone cleans it.

He ran his brush over a sign that read: “SERVICE ENTRANCE. STAFF ONLY”.

— Perfect, — Gluk said, admiring the shine.

— Gluk, we’re not here to make things pretty, — Cheddar sighed.

— And why are we here then? — Gluk asked sincerely. — If everything’s clean, it’s easier to investigate.

— That’s… logical, — Gadget admitted.

— Cleanliness is always logical, — Gluk replied proudly.

They went through the service entrance and found themselves in a long corridor.

The walls were bare, without ads or pictures.

Only gray concrete and rare ventilation grates.

At the end of the corridor, a door was visible, and from behind it came a strange sound.

— What is that? — Spark asked, resting her hand on her blaster.

— Sounds like… crying, — Shadow said.

— Do monsters cry? — Gadget wondered.

— Now they do.

Cheddar pushed the door.

Behind it was a small room, cluttered with boxes and old decorations.

In the corner, curled into a ball, sat… Mokhnach.

The same monster they had met earlier.

Now he was even more disheveled and sad.

— You live here? — Cheddar asked.

The monster nodded and pointed a paw at a plaque on the wall: “STAFF LOUNGE. ATTRACTION #3”.

— They kicked you out of your job? — Spark asked.

Mokhnach rumbled.

Shadow translated:

— He says his attraction was closed. Tourists stopped being afraid. Now he’s here, waiting for… waiting to be fired.

— Fired? — Gluk repeated. — Then who will scare people?

— No one, — Shadow answered. — Monsters are no longer needed.

Gluk rolled up to Mokhnach, took out his brush.

— Don’t be sad, — he said. — I’ll clean you. Clean monsters are always needed.

Mokhnach looked at him with his huge, wet eyes and quietly rumbled.

— He’s saying “thank you”, — Shadow translated.

Gluk got to work.

His brush buzzed, and the scent of freshness drifted through the room.

Winglet, who had been sitting on Gluk’s back, jumped off and also tried to clean, but only smeared the dust around.

— No, no, — Gluk explained patiently. — Like this. Circular motions.

Winglet diligently repeated the motion.

— He’s your apprentice, — Spark smirked.

— A talented one, — Gluk replied seriously. — But he needs practice.

Mokhnach, meanwhile, began to rumble louder.

It was no longer just a rumble — it sounded almost like a song.

— He likes it, — Shadow said.

— Of course he does, — Gluk answered. — Cleanliness is a pleasure.

Cheddar stepped aside and looked out the window.

The entire park was visible from here — bright, noisy, but somehow unreal.

People walked the alleys like wind-up dolls, and no one laughed.

— We need to get to the factory, — he said. — The place where they make this cheese.

— There’s only one way, — Shadow answered, showing a map. — Through the main attraction.

— Which one?

— “Fear of Heights”.

Spark looked up.

There, in the sky, hung a massive structure — a tower stretching into the clouds, with transparent cabins slowly rising and falling.

— I’ll go, — she said.

— Why? — Cheddar wondered.

— Because it’s the only way to get to the factory. And you’ll be handling negotiations.

— Spark…

— Don’t argue. I’ll manage.

She approached Mokhnach, who now gleamed from cleanliness, and asked:

— Is it dangerous up there?

Mokhnach rumbled.

Shadow translated:

— He says it’s only dangerous for those who have emotions. And tourists don’t have any.

— But I do, — Spark smirked.

— Then be careful, — Cheddar said.

— Always.

Gluk finished cleaning Mokhnach and rolled up to Spark.

— Take me with you! — he asked.

— Why?

— I’ll clean the cabin. If it’s clean, it’ll be easier to fly.

— Gluk, it’s an attraction, not a cleaning job.

— An attraction is also a room. And rooms need cleaning.

Spark sighed.

— Fine. But don’t get in the way.

— I never get in the way. I help.