Number One Fan

Chapter 12: Stuck

Happy did(totally against his will)start a new comic book. But he didn't know what exactly to base it on at the moment. So far, all he had was a singular line on a piece of paper. He was sitting at the tea timetable with a pencil in his hand, waiting for inspiration to sail into his mind like a sailboat on an adventure. Only the winds were sitting at zero knots today. Happy leaned back in the chair and sighed. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before he moved again, returning to the tabletop, tapping the eraser against it idly, "Come on, Happy... you can't just have nothing." Happy mumbled to himself. He rubbed his temple as he tried to rack his head for any and all ideas.

But the only thing that came to his mind was Tommy: What was Tommy doing right now? Was Tommy angry? Did Tommy hate him? These questions were constantly rotating in his mind, like that old carousel in his village back on Omeocoon, where all the younger extrusions played—while he sat in the shade in front of the emporium, trying to download the latest interviews of Tommy, and his difficult journey of joining the ranks of the Dynamic Patrol, as well being an advocate for Omeocoon's entrance into protectorate status. Happy was always the weird one. Always hyper-focused on the one thing. Tommy. He'd had a normal life up until Tommy stopped being just a 'nobody.' It was downhill from there.  

It'd been four days since he was relieved of his responsibilities in the shop. And now this was his reality—every second, every day, Happy couldn't just 'erase' him... then Happy started sketching the one thing his father told him not to draw—It seemed involuntary now. It was freaky how his subconscious chose to reject the orders his father had given him. He started illustrating Tommy's face. It was perfectly proportioned. The lines were clean; it came so easily for him—just as easily as playing a guitar. 

The door opened just as Happy finished the rough sketch. He covered the page, trying to act as natural as possible. 

"Good afternoon, Happy," Riley said, heading over to the temperature controls and adjusting them to a more comfortable climate.

"Hey." Happy tried to muster a smile, but the energy wasn't there.

The A/C clicked and started to drone on as Riley went over to turn on the COS-net screen positioned in what used to be the galley. The display began to motorize from below the countertop as soon as Riley called for D1 to display today's news. But it got stuck on the gears and started making a noise it certainly shouldn't have been making. It usually did this if it went a few days without being used—like it was protesting more work hours or something. Reily slapped the countertop with his hand, giving it a little extra incentive to raise the rest of the way quietly. It was an old ship—not everything was expected to work right the first time. Cuddles, the Chancellor's Panthorian(turned viceroy), appeared on it as the display fully deployed; he was giving the afternoon brief just before tea time. His attitude was neutral and unrevealing—as usual. 

"Hap—the latest votes are happening..? You wanna push the button?" Riley offered, pointing at the screen with his eyes as he looked over at Happy with a melancholy smile. 

"No, thank you." Happy answered, semi-dazed, preferring to scribble on his paper with his head on the table. 

He usually liked to press the button, but not today...The latest votes, as stated before, were taking place. Riley almost missed it. 

The voting system ensured that no one was left out of decisions concerning the ship. With the possibility of having thousands of people on board, it felt important that the individuals have some say in where the house goes. 

"Case 87. Cloaking device..? That's interesting. Vote yes." Riley commanded D1, "That'll keep us safe." The computer chirped as it accepted Riley's vote. The cloaking device was just further insurance that they could live a peaceful life. The computer display showed all the statistics, interior temperatures, and areas under repair—which seemed to decrease as they settled in. Hard to believe the ship was sitting in a yard six months ago. "How's that new comic coming along?"