Everywhere is the Same

A Writing Exercise

He eyed the massive glowing conduit warily. It was an engineering marvel, however, he didn't like how it also supplied the heat and light for the colony ship. Having an anti-matter reaction pumped to the engine above your head was disconcerting. Plus, it felt like it was just hanging in the sky with nothing supporting it. Without notice it could come crashing down.

Of course, 'down' and 'up' were subjective terms around here. He could see the city above him through the clouds swirling around the conduit. Living on the inside of a giant cylinder was more like living underground in a big cavern.

The ship's managers had created parks and other entertainment venues to help with the plague of depression. A massive refitting had enabled the conduit to glow a warmer color like the sun back home. Lakes, rivers, untamed forests and many other features had been added to assuage that strange and ungraspable unique need of the human condition.

But the facts stayed the same. They lived in a metal tube floating through an icy black abyss with a controlled explosion hanging over their heads.

Like all the others, he had to accept that fact and ignore it. Try to. Honestly, what could he do about those kinds of problems? Strange how people could easily demand big problems to be fixed. Then they'd turn around and let everything crumble around themselves in their own lives.

He shifted as he was lying on the park bench and his rear came into contact with the chill of metal. He shifted back. He could swear that the outward heaters weren't working as well as they did a few years back.

He pulled his ratty coat closer about himself and checked to make sure the strap of his bag was securely in the crook of his arm. He could see the skyscrapers rising to the edges of his vision.

An aircar streaked past. Likely some millionaire threatening the safety of the entire ship by flying too fast. One had crashed and punched a hole in the hull.

Rich people got away with anything it seemed.

The captain hadn't done much better. That botched slingshot around the dormant black hole had really worked out for them. A state of emergency had to be called for the various systems critically damaged by the unforeseen gamma burst.

Hadn't astronomers been studying that black hole for a hundred years now? How had they messed that up?

A whistle blew. He rolled and caught his feet under him, slinging his bag to his shoulder and running. He took off across the turf towards some trees. Too late he saw the gold and grey uniform of a navyman headed from that way too.

He turned sharply and his feet slipped up and he fell to his side. He scrambled up.

"Bastards!" He shouted over his shoulder.

One dived for his legs.

He spun and dodged and ran again. There was a sharp crack, something like a fist smacked him in the back. Electricity surged through him and every muscle in his back clenched painfully.

He fell, rigid.

Footsteps ran up from behind.

"Wait!" a voice said, "it's still activated."

He suddenly fell limp and groaned.

Two heavy weights pressed down on him and strong arms wrested his hands to his back. Cuffs were clasped on him in moments.

He bucked but it did little to free him. "Bastards! You're no better than press gangs you pricks!"

They hauled him to his feet, one on either side of him. He blew his hair out of his eyes and spat out the dirt in his mouth.

An officer walked around and stood in front of him with a tablet.

He looked at the man's name tag. "Mr. Blanchard, you really think I'm a criminal? I ain't done nothing."

"That is your crime." The officer said blandly. He took a small scanner off the tablet and passed it to one of the navymen holding him.

The navyman pressed it to his wrist, right under the cuffs.

The tablet's light shone a little more brightly on the officer's face and he tapped it a few times.

The navyman handed the scanner back.

"Mr. umm, Sidade Kasten?"

"It's Kass-thim, Kasthem. It's not Sidade, either, it's - you know what? Just call me Sid."

Officer Blanchard looked at Sid. "Why are you in handcuffs today?"

Sid shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Don't know offalcer, please tell me."

Blanchard sighed and slid his finger across the screen. "The ship's captain reserves every right and authority to-"

"Screw over his passengers?"

"-command any action to preserve the greater welfare. All persons aboard the craft he commands fall under his-"

"Sack of bullcrap."

"-complete sovereignty as long as a critical threat to their safety is present. After damage to critical systems were assessed, it was determined the situation needed an all-hands-on-deck approach."

"I'm so screwed."

"All non-essential personnel for the basic sustainment of life would be reassigned to support repair and maintenance efforts."

An aircar landed nearby and the reinforced back doors were opened.

"Sid."

Sid turned his head back to the officer.

"We're sinking. Slowly, but we're sinking."

Sid shrugged and gave the officer his best 'I don't give two flying craps' look. "Don't pull me down with you. Put me in one of those coma-coffins. At least I can sleep for a thousand years until I get sucked into a sun. Trust me, I won't feel a thing."

"We're in deep space. The escape pods are for when we're by civilized areas or a habitable planet. You knew what you were getting into when you got on this ship."

"No," Sid tried jerking out of the navyman's grasp, "I didn't come for any of this! You think I wanted to stay in a ghost town back home? After everyone else left? My friends? My family?!" Sid glared at Blanchard.

The officer nodded to the aircar and the two navymen pushed Sid into the back of it and closed the doors.

The aircar lifted off smoothly and accelerated so softly Sid didn't even notice.

Sid stood up with some difficulty with his hands still behind his back. He looked out the window at the city center. The streets between the buildings were mostly barren. Only a few people walked here and there down the once-busy thoroughfares.

He'd heard the stories of the work-gangs helping maintain the life of the dying ship. It was hard labor. There wasn't enough machines to do all the work. Some, like his family were able to find good jobs. But he? He'd been an artist. He didn't have any good transferrable mechanical or computer skills or knowledge. Guys like him were sent to do the "easy" jobs.

He'd been among those who had fought against being pressed into the work gangs. The city was fine. Everything was working how it should. Where were the blaring alarms and flashing lights? Was the hull cracking apart? Was the atmosphere venting?

No, nothing was happening. The city was fine. The ship was fine. Nothing needed to be done that was drastic.

The aircar sped down the giant tube. Sid eyed the passing landscape. Everything was normal until they flew over the edge of the metropolis. Entire city blocks of buildings were being dismantled and their materials being shipped by boat, train, car and pulled by people to the underground.

Something stilled inside Sid as he watched the massive operations at work. Just what was happening?