Get Up, Shut Up

In my dreams, I walk on grass. In my dreams, I see blue sky, illuminated by a golden sun. In my dreams, I breathe real air. Eat real food. Drink real water.

In my dreams, I'm home. In my dreams, I see my father.

Then my dream ends. My alarm is sounding. With reality's finger on the button.

There's no grass here. The food sucks, and water comes from comets, with all the grit that entails. In reality, it's freezing – space is cold, there's no one bright sun in the sky, no atmosphere outside the drift, and heat is as non-existent as my dreams, fading away into memory. Like the planet on which they take place.

I swipe my arm at the alarm. I like to think I hit reality's hand before sounding the "off" button.

I get up slowly, one leg at a time, ignoring Tek's snores. I don't wake him, and even if I did, what would there be to say? We ran out of things to say long ago. Round about the time I stopped asking questions – why did the drej attack? When will I see my father again? Why is it that you're the only alien on this drift that isn't a complete arsehole?

Questions are useless nowadays. And the answers aren't much better, if you even get them. I can answer the above questions though – the drej are dicks, my father was a dick, and aliens (Tek not included) are dicks. The universe is full of dickery, and Earth got it right in the arse.

Yeah…that joke stopped being funny long ago. Like questions, jokes are useless.

I put on some clothes and head into the hallway of the dorm section, blurry eyed. The detritus of the galaxy does the same, and I'm not just talking about my fellow humans. Firrikash and Po are here too, the arseholes. Luckily they don't notice me – an advantage of the fact that humans are smaller than everyone else in stature, as well as relevance. Granted, the noticing thing is guaranteed to change over the course of the day cycle, but right now, I'm too tired to care.

"Move it tiny."

But of course, I reflect as an alien passes me by, shoving into me, there's plenty of other pricks on the station. I watch as the jackass cuts to the front of the line. First come, first served. And that means getting to the best spacesuits. Ones that are the least likely to rupture. Or leak. Or do anything that makes it easier for space to kill you. And after working here for five years, I've come to realize that yes indeed, space wants me dead. And no, I'm not crazy. When you've seen as many people asphyxiate in the vacuum of nothingness that is the galaxy, you realize that the galaxy is, indeed, a homicidal maniac.

Well, what the hell?

Just a normal day on Tau 14 after all.

Update (01/08/15): Adjusted rating as per review.