Planet Irk, Earth year 2072...

"Ah, the memories. So many good, so many painful. And yet… so many that must be remembered forever."

An old man thought this to himself as he stared out the window, tears stinging his eyes. He reached out his hand out of habit, trying to find something next to him that wasn't there. At least, not anymore.

"We are here." The Irken guard stood, opening the doors of the pod and helping the man out. Together, they walked to an old ship that waited for them- the old 'Opera house'.

It still looked as it had sixty years before, only much older and dustier. And there were scorch marks on the walls from the incident that had spelled ruin for this place.

"Lot 665, filthy scum!" An Irken yelled. "A music box some food drone stumbled over downstairs. It is shaped like a little purple moose sitting on a box. Anyone want it?"

The man raised his hand instantly. There was silence, and then the music box was chucked at him.

"SOLD! To my Tallest!" The Irken bowed slightly.

The man held it gently in his hands, staring at it in wonder. In his head, he thought:

"A collectors piece indeed…

Every detail, exactly as she said…

Will you still play when all the rest of us are dead?"

"Lot 666! A Hyuuuman chandelier in pieces."

The old man's head snapped back up in surprise.

"Some of you may recall the strange event known as the Irken of the Opera- a mystery never truly explained." The Irken scoffed. "Lets see how scary he is when the ship is lit up. NOW!"

The slave drones groaned with the weight, but eventually managed to pull the huge chandelier up and into place…