Need to rename the 'Evil' Universe.

Personal Log: Ensign Leonard “Len” Kravitz

Stardate: Indeterminate, but morally gray

Formerly of the ISS Gouger, now aboard the USS Sandalwood (ugh)

Begin log.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I was transferred to this universe roughly one year ago.

I say “come to the conclusion” because no one actually told me. No welcome packet, no “So You’re From a Dystopian Nightmare” orientation holovid, just a throwaway comment from a Lieutenant during our quarterly napkin inventory check.

“You beard boys never notice,” he said, like I should have known.

Am I passing?

Well, I didn’t notice because it’s not that different here. Sure, there are fewer public executions, and yes, people say “please” before betraying you, but the basic principles remain the same: those at the top do whatever they want, those below pretend to admire it, and those in the middle invent euphemisms to make the whole thing sound noble.

The uniforms may have less sadistic flare, but the garbage smells the same.

The only real difference is in the language.Back home, our captains barked orders. Here, they “invite collaboration.”There, we conquered planets. Here, we “stabilize emerging democracies.”On the Gouger, Captain Vrax stabbed his way into command. Everyone respected that. It was honest. When someone poisoned your drink, it meant they saw potential in you.

On the Sandalwood, Captain Trent reroutes medical shipments to colonies that fund his brother’s warp-crystal startup, and the crew calls him innovative. The Counselor calls it "morally complex". The cook named a sandwich after him. “The Trent.” It’s mostly bland replicator ham and comes with a side of self-delusion.

When I point out that we’re committing what I would generously call light treason, people just smile and say, “You don’t understand how things work in this quadrant.” No, I get it. I understand perfectly. I just came from the "evil" universe, and this one’s catching up.

The unsettling part is that it apparently wasn’t always like this. People keep saying things like, “It used to mean something to wear the uniform,” or, “There was a time when the Prime Directive meant something.” There’s a wistfulness to it, like nostalgia for a childhood that may have been a fever dream.

They talk about an age of reason, exploration, and moral certainty. A golden Federation where leaders were thoughtful, honest, and only occasionally genocidal. But now, every admiral seems to have a secret war, a private army, or a side hustle selling dilithium futures. The slide’s already happening, but no one wants to admit it.

Some people are fighting it, bless their idealistic little hearts. The philosophers, the ethicists, the junior officers who still salute the concept of truth. They hold candlelight vigils for integrity. They sign petitions. They get quietly transferred to remote listening posts where no one listens.

The rest of the crew? They’ve adapted. They tell themselves the Federation still stands for something, while simultaneously hoarding replicator credits and networking with smugglers. They’re not loyal to the ideal anymore. They’re loyal to survival. Everyone’s just trying to get theirs before the hull buckles and the whole moral life-support system goes offline.

You can see it in the meetings. Half the crew arguing about principles, half about their retirement plans, all of them pretending not to notice the power conduits glowing redder every week.

I don’t even think it’s “good” versus “evil” anymore. It’s entropy: bureaucratic, moral, spiritual. We’re drifting toward each other, my two universes, converging like binary stars of hypocrisy. And when they finally merge, no one will be able to tell which one was supposed to be the evil one. An all-gray yin-yang.

Except for the beards. The beards will still give us away. They always do.

I’ve shaved, of course. It’s frowned upon here. They said the beard was “too aggressive.” Back home it just meant you had authority via a high knife-survival rate. We called it the "career ladder". Now I attend monthly “Ethical Leadership Seminars.” Last month’s theme was What Would Jean-Luc Do? I think the answer was “give a valiant speech featuring the word 'clarity' while covering up a war crime,” but I didn’t raise my hand.

I’m told progress takes time. Morality, too. The Counselor says our society is “undergoing a realignment.” I say we’re circling the drain, but in this universe, drains are called “opportunities for reflection.”

Still, there’s a certain comfort in the decline. At least now I know where I am, and where everyone’s headed. The uniforms are pressed, the smiles rehearsed, and the corruption proceduralized. It feels more like home every day.

End log.