Neteyam

Turn It Up

"When's your next shift?" A human man asked to his coworker. A mug in his hand with a disoriented picture of what looked like a sad face photoshopped onto a cat. He lifted it to his lips and loudly sipped the tea inside. "Next week." Another man with his face smushed against his hand drawled back. "Maybe?" His tired eyes illuminated by faintly blue light. Over his chest he had a dull name tag with a few letters scratched off but you could still read "Benjamin K. Stubbs" from the difference in colours of the oxidized metal. "I don't know, Vinny can't schedule for shit."

Ben lolled his head back and glanced at the screens that surrounded him. There was silence that was only filled with the occasional beep from a radio. The first man shrugged limply. He put down his mug and reached into his pocket. Grunting slightly as he struggled to pull out his phone from his back pocket. Ben looked at his coworker to see what he was doing. The man smacked his lips lightly as he lifted the phone screen to face him. He held it angled more towards his chin than his eyes as he squinted to the screen. The sound of him tapping the screen too hard sounding even louder in the otherwise silent room. "Use the pad of your finger." Ben sighed through his nose as she watched his coworker pressing it the screen harder with each failed press.

"I am." The other man snapped back. Ben rolled his eyes before planting his feet back onto the ground. In slow jerky twists of hips Ben scooted on his wheeled office chair towards his coworker. By pulling away from his desk you could see past his collared shirt. Red pyjama pants with a fuzzy texture that had matted into patchy chunks. "With the pad of your finger." Ben grabbed onto the desk and pulled himself the rest of the way. "I'm doing that!" The man growled and lightly clenched his teeth.

"Give it here." Ben lifted his hand and nudged the older man with his elbow. The man sighed and he shoved the phone to Ben. "Your screen's greasy." Ben scrunched his nose as he angled the screen from the blue light so he could see the finger prints almost sticking up from the glass. "That's disgusting, Reggie." The older man held up his hands to the ceiling and shrugged as if someone tickled him on his neck. "I had chicken last night." Ben looked back to his coworker's eyes. "I can tell you had barbecue sauce with it." Ben held up the phone on the very tips of his fingers so he wouldn't have to touch it.

"It ain't that bad-." "Reggie." Ben lifted his hand towards the older man as if he had suggested shaving his head and then dye it highlighter yellow with white lines to be better at synchronized swimming. Looking at the phone then back to Reggie, Ben's parted lips quivered slightly as huff he couldn't bring himself to even explain the horror of it. The bearded man across from him however was already prepared to roll his eyes so hard his head would roll with him. "I could bring this to the lab and they'll tell me they hav discovered a new germ." Reggie pursed his lips and stared back at Ben who's eyes looked to wide for his small head. "No wonder you can't type shit on this thing."

"Ok ok. Just drop it." Reggie reached for his phone again but Ben pulled it back. "Clean it." "I'll just wipe it in my pants-." "Ew!" Ben physically recoiled at that. "Get a wipe, how on earth did you pass the hygiene test?" Reggie rolled his eyes and waved a hand up from his armrest. Shuffling uncomfortably in his seat. The man lunged and reached to surprise Ben but he pulled the phone. "That never works." Ben drawled. Reggie slapped his palm against his armrest. "You always do this!" "No I do not!" "You nitpick everything that I do!" "You're disgusting!" They spoke over each other so loudly that their words tangled together to become just a pile of words. Nothing going to the other since it was rebutted before the sentences even finished. Then the well of words that was so plentiful on their tongues dried out like a snap shot drought. With nothing to say the just looked at each other.

The silence gave room to the waves crashing the side of the metal hull of the ship. Looking out the window you could feel the slight sway of it. A cradle that rocked them even when they were supposed to stay awake. The silence was halted sharply at the sound of liquid hitting the bottom of a cup. The two men turned to the little corner of the room right where the light did not light up in its harsh colour. The coffee machine sputtered once.  Turing off the steady stream of brown juice for a moment to make an almost coughing noise. Then it continued the flow of coffee again.