《Everyone Dies Alone but not necessarily in space》#6
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The dialogue box held a little too long on “100%” before disappearing and unfurling the message from its long, long journey.
Laila punched the air.
“She must have got lucky. Must have been a real sad sack of a Meitagenan.” Laila was so excited she was speaking at the empty room.
She was going to be rich and get out of here. By now she was doing a little dance: not too showy that people would stop in the corridor, but vigorous enough that she choked on her hot black drink that was like coffee, but just okay. Just okay… like everything down here, Laila thought.
Laila wanted more than just okay. Everyone down on this level wanted more. Sometimes she thought that was maybe why they were all stuck here, grasping. Everyone up there seemed to not even notice all the luxury at their fingertips and just breezed between meaningful and productive activities without a thought. It was a level of ease that seemed alien to her.
Still, this was no time to dwell. This was not even a time to grasp. It was time to seize. Laila fumbled her always awkward salute at the crappy monitor and surveyed the contents of her just okay desk.
Glossy magazines (assorted, but including GOODBYE?! Monthly)
Antique weaponry (one crossbow, two grenades, M–30 Davy Crockett Weapon System)
Vitamins (cod liver oil, MDMA)
Instant black hot drink sachets (box of)
A well-worn copy of an obscure manifesto (title ‘POLITICAL VOID’, author ‘Naomi P. Deus’)
She swiped the entire contents into a bag and took a last look at her home/office/coworking space of the last 99 years. It was just okay. She raised her hand, flicked the room a V with her two remaining fingers and was out the door that read: Laila Droit, Network Eusocial Engagement Analyst (17th Junior Executive Officer)
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********
Back where that message came from – if you can remember how to get there – a human opened its eyes.
Then it opened its mouth.
And then all of its other orifices.
None of this was by choice: waking-up screaming and shitting yourself is the typical human physiological response to thawing after cryo-suspension. Peculiarly, the reflex lasts for just 8 seconds. You can set your clock by it.
7… 8…. silence.
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