Panacea

Part 1

 The chairs were first to go. There were no uses for chairs when gravity was shut off in all living quarters to save energy. It only came on for an hour every five days so people could takes showers.

Shoes were next. Supply of two hundred years worth of shoes for six hundred people were dumped into space.  

Then the corpses. For the first fifty years, dead bodies were preserved and stored on the ship. I suppose leaving your loved ones to float around in the vastness of space for eternity wasn't sentimental enough. However, when people realized that there wasn't enough energy to sustain the ship with all the extra weight, they started to get rid of anything that wasn't essential. For the next forty years, sixty percent of all the original cargo was thrown away, and the trip wasn't even halfway done yet.

Our ship, the Panacea, is the only generation ship ever built. Our ancestors knew they would never make the journey. But they had a better chance of living than if they had stayed on Earth.

The last of the original crew died yesterday. His name was Hector Nachmen. He was only twenty when he started the journey. It's been ninety years. Dad told me that in first time since the funeral of the original captain forty years ago, they would serve alcohol. He also told me it wouldn't happen again in my lifetime, since they were planning to serve the rest when we get to our destination.

But I'm not allowed to drink because I'm underaged. I can't allow that.

"Why can't we grab a bottle and just go?" Says Donia. "It's not like we're going to drink more than that."

"They're going to notice whether we take one or a dozen," Owls says. "Why not grab a lifetime supply?"

"How can you be so callous? Some people would never get a chance to drink alcohol again. They're looking forward to this much as we are."

"The problem is that we can't look forward to it. We are not allowed to drink. Think of it as a punishment for not allowing us," replies Owls.

"This is my plan," I say. They turn to me. "And I say we get every last bottle"

"But that's just mean," says Donia. "We don't have to take everything. I still can't believe we're stealing stuff from a funeral."

"Your brain cells belong in a funeral." Owls says. "No, a brain cell. Singular. Unless you're pregnant. That makes is two."

"I'm giving you guys a chance to actually drink alcohol. " I say. "Stop arguing about morality."

"I'm not arguing."

I wave at her to shut up.

"And we're talking about Hector Nachman," I continued. "He was an Evvie. I still don't understand why he deserves to have alcohol served as his funeral. Only people stupider than you guys are the Evvies." Owls starts to explain how she isn't stupid, but I turn my back towards her.

"None of you are obligated to help me," I say. "You can stop now. Stop following me to the storage cell. But if you do, you would only prove you're dumber than I thought." I kick off the wall, and grab for the nearest handlebar.

After gravity was disabled, the engineers added handlebars everywhere. They were so strategically placed that hardly anyone but the occasional Evvie would get stuck floating around in the middle of the room.

Evvies are useful for only one thing; being alive. It isn't an exaggeration, their sole job is to stay alive while everyone else, the engineers, run the ship.

As the only way off of Earth, everyone wanted to go on Panacea. But the maximum amount of people it could house was six hundred. To be impartial as possible, two types of people were chosen to be saved. First group were the people who built the ship, the engineers, and one other member of their family. Second group was chosen for their genetic uniqueness to preserve the diversity of humanity.