"Rick! The subtitles are moving faster than we're talking!" Morty panicked as the text [Som de pânico intensificado] appeared in mid-air.

"Close, Morty," Rick belched, pulling out a screwdriver to tinker with a nearby floating phoneme. "It means this specific reality is being translated into 297 different dialects. We’re currently in the 'European Portuguese' sector, but if you step two feet to the left, we’ll be speaking Brazilian slang and arguing about whose feijoada is better."

Rick walked toward the kitchen. "Don't get cocky, Morty. We’re still in a rebooted timeline. If you start seeing yellow text with a black outline, tell me immediately. That means we’re on a bootleg site, and I am not dealing with pop-up ads for 'Hot Single Aliens' in our area."

Rick smashed a console labeled . "I'm switching us back to the Original Audio track, Morty! It’s going to be a bumpy ride—translations are always lossy!"

"Rick, where are we?" Morty stammered, shielding his eyes. "Everything looks… low resolution. And why is there a floating black bar at the bottom of my vision?"

"Is that… are those subtitles?" Morty asked, waving his hand through the words. "And wait, the sign over there says '297 Legendas Disponíveis.' Does that mean there are 297 versions of us talking right now?"

Morty looked down. Bold, white letters were hovering in the air: “Rick, onde estamos?”

The portal hissed open, but instead of the usual neon vistas of Dimension C-137, Rick and Morty stepped out into a void of flickering white static.