I'm writing a sci-fi novel... - Page 2

LISTEN HERE MOTHERFUCKER. THE STORY YOU ARE ABOUT TO READ IS GOING TO SHOW YOU GLIMPSES INTO A WORLD SO FUCKING INCREDIBLE AND FUCKING AMAZING THAT YOU MAY SHIT YOURSELF IN ABSOLUTE AWE MULTIPLE TIMES BEFORE IM DONE WITH YOU AND DROP YOU OFF BACK IN YOUR OWN SHITTY WORLD.

This astronaut needs to be doing a routine space walk or something and his buddy gets NAILED With SPACE DEBRI THAT RIPS A FUCKING HUGE HOLE RIGHT THRU HIS CHEST AND HOLY SHIT MAN ASTRONAUT GIB FUCKING FLYS EVERYWHERE AND SHIT FUCK WE NEED TO GET INSIDE CAUSE THERES FUCKING HUGE CLOUDS OF THIS SPACE DEBRI SHIT RAINING AT HIM IT COMING AT THE SPACE SHUTTLE AND HOLY SHIT MAN HE IS SCRAMBLING TO GET IN THE FUCKING AIR LOCK BEFORE HES TORN TO SHREDS LIKE HIS BUDDY BUT THE DOORS CLOSING SLOW AND DECOMPRESSION TAKING TOO LONG AND THEN JUST AS IT STARTS TO DECOMPRESS HIM A GIANT PEICE OF SPACE JUNK FUCKING RIPS INTO THE MOTHERFUCKING HULL DOOR OF THE DECOMPRESSION ROOM AND HOLY SHIT OUR BUDDY IS WRITHERING IN AGONY AS HIS HALF DECOMPRESSED SPACE SUIT IS EXPOSED TO THE COLD ICY GRIPS OF SPACE. THE SPACE STATION IS GETTING RIPPED TO PIECES ALL AROUND HIM AND HIS FUCKING EYES ARE BLEEDING AND SHIT MAN AND HE HAS NOWHERE TO GO WHAT THE FUCK IS HE GONNA DO OMG??? .

It was dark in the room in which Peter Valentine sat, only lit by a few fluorescent bulbs in the back of the room known as the Control Room, located deep within the multi-billion dollar facility of the International Association for Space Exploration. One of the bulbs flickered, just slow enough to be noticeable, yet fast enough to give you a headache if you stayed too long. A low insect-like buzz could be heard. It was rather annoying, Peter thought, but he was in no position to do anything about it. The ceilings in this portion of the underground bunker were nearly 30 feet high, and even if he had had a ladder, he didn’t know where to find replacement bulbs. It had been that way for nearly 3 months, but either Peter was the only one who found it annoying, or everyone was just too lazy to do anything about it.

Laziness and complacency were rampant here. The last time the IASE actually sent something of value into space was nearly six years ago, and most of the existing projects at that time were either completely abandoned or reduced to such minimal manning that they might as well have been. It was all Peter could do to avoid falling asleep in the eight hour graveyard shift he was currently working. His co-worker, Andrew, was soundly asleep in the hard, straight-backed chair at the monitor just feet away. He had a funny way of snoring, like a quiet whistle occasionally punctuated by the snort of a pig.

Laziness at the IASE was just the tip of the iceberg, though. The entire world had become half-sleeping, day-walking zombies. The creation of the World Union back in 2034 was supposed to be some miracle that made everyone happy. It didn’t exactly work that way, though. Sure, there hadn’t been a war since the outright destruction of the Middle East and parts of North Africa. Sure, everyone was technically happy; poverty, hunger, and crime were at record lows worldwide, but there was no ambition. For the first time in the history of humanity, everyone was united. The only dissident groups - or to the use the popular propaganda term from the beginning of the century, “terrorists” - were small, with little to no organization or real leadership. But ambition was a thing of the past.

It was almost as if no one could ever strive to better at anything than anyone else, because everyone was supposed to be treated equally. Competition was gone, because the drive to be “better” at anything was gone at a global level. Technological growth stagnated, because really? What was the point? Life was good, there was no need to make it any better. At least, that seemed to be the general mindset.

Peter was extremely frustrated by all of this, and he occasionally found himself silently hoping that war would erupt somewhere, anywhere, so as to stimulate growth in the technology of his field of work. Of course, he always thought shamefully of himself soon after these thoughts would occur to him, but it couldn’t be helped. He felt useless. He was bored, and there was really nothing he, personally, could do to make the world any more exciting.

When he was younger, when he first found himself in what was, at the time, his dream job, everything was seemingly perfect. The IASE had just been created, and the desire to venture into space was huge among the public. At the time, everyone thought “Now that war is a thing of the past, we can focus our resources on space adventurism.” And that’s what Peter wanted, dreamed for. Space Adventurism. An opportunity to explore the outer regions of the solar system, and perhaps beyond. The first few years, this desire remained, and everything seemed to be going well. Advancements in space propulsion technology were made quickly, and only a week after the first birthday of the IASE, man had walked on Mars. Another six months, and the first commercial flight to Mars launched, landed, and returned to Earth, without issue.

Peter had longed for that trip. Mars. Our sister planet. That would be his first proverbial step in the journey that was space exploration. He longed to walk to the rim of Olympus Mons and marvel at the vastness of it all. Unfortunately, due to his rigorous work schedule at the time, overseeing the beginnings of commercial Martian flight, he was unable to visit Mars in any of the first and only months that the flights occurred. Unfortunately, people weren’t too impressed with the surface of Mars. They didn’t appreciate it the way Peter did. The market for commercial space-flight simply wasn’t there. People lost interest, the stocks fell, and the market collapsed.

Now, only 15 years after the creation of the IASE in 2036, Peter was just a custodian of forgotten dreams and broken promises. And again, there was nothing short of a miracle that could change it.

It was dark in the Control Room. The few fluorescent bulbs that lit the room were flickering rapidly, and they gave Peter Valentine a terrible headache. He would have been fine if he actually had something to take his mind off of the pain, but there was no work to be done on the graveyard shift at IASE Space Command. Peter was on his seventh cup of coffee in only four hours, and he struggled desperately to stay awake. He rubbed his eyes to ease the stinging pain that meant they were bloodshot. It didn’t help. His co-worker Andrew was soundly asleep feet away, snoring like a pig.

Peter got up and walked around the room aimlessly to stretch his legs. There wasn’t anything better to do. I could probably just leave and no one would know the difference, he thought, but decided against it. Peter was the kind of person who always played by the rules, even if he thought the rules were stupid. In this case, why did they need two people to work at night when there wasn’t enough work for even one person? The solar system was in no imminent danger, and the last time the International Association for Space Exploration had sent anything of value into space was nearly six years ago.

Peter picked up a piece of paper that had fallen on the ground. It was an old memo talking about the decommissioning of one of the satellites around Venus. Peter crumpled it up and threw it at Andrew. The paper ball missed Andrew by only a few inches, and Peter was momentarily disappointed. He resented Andrew, but never made it obvious. Andrew was the perfect example of what was wrong in the world. He was lazy and made no effort to better himself in anything he did. He came to work, sure, but most of the time he showed up late and spent his time there asleep. Andrew isn’t the only one, either, Peter thought. In fact, most of the employees at the IASE were the same as Andrew. The whole world was, for that matter.

It seemed that since the creation of the World Union in 2034, people had turned into half-sleeping, day-walking zombies. Complacency was rampant. The competitive drive that had once existed was gone. It was almost as if no one could ever strive to be better anything than others, because people were supposed to be “equal”. Yeah, the world was peaceful and poverty, hunger, and crime were at record lows, but no one had any ambition. Technological growth had stagnated, because really? What was the point? Life was good, so there was no need to make it any better. At least, that seemed to be the general mindset.

Peter was extremely frustrated by all of this and seeing Andrew sleeping so casually at work didn’t help. He occasionally found himself silently hoping that war would erupt somewhere, anywhere, because things had gotten so terribly boring. Of course, he always thought shamefully of himself soon after these thoughts occurred to him, but he couldn’t help it. He felt useless, and there was really nothing he could personally do to make the world any more exciting.

When Peter first got his job at the IASE, everything was seemingly perfect. It was his dream job, and at the time, business was booming. The IASE had just been created and the desire to explore space was huge among the public. At the time, everyone thought “Now that war is a thing of the past, we can focus our resources on space adventurism.” And that’s what Peter had wanted, had dreamed for, his entire life. “Space Adventurism.” Peter was always hoping for an opportunity to explore the outer regions of the solar system, and perhaps beyond. It looked like he would get his chance when space propulsion technology made significant leaps shortly after the IASE came into existence. Everything went well, and only a week after the IASE’s first birthday, man had walked on Mars. Another six months and the first commercial flight to Mars launched, landed, and returned to Earth, without issue.

Peter longed for that trip. It would be his first proverbial step in the journey that was space exploration. He wanted to climb to the top of Olympus Mons and marvel at the vastness of it all. Unfortunately, due to his rigorous work schedule overseeing the beginnings of commercial Martian flight, he was unable to go in any of the first and only months that the flights occurred. Unfortunately, people weren’t too impressed with the surface of Mars. They didn’t appreciate it the way Peter surely would have. The market for space exploration simply wasn’t there, the stocks fell, and the market collapsed. Peter was furious that he missed what would probably be his only chance. It still stung when he thought about it fourteen years later. Now, Peter was just a custodian of forgotten dreams and broken promises, and there was nothing short of a miracle that could change it.