Earth (Complete)

Eleven

It was really weird talking to him again, as if nothing happened, as if everything was normal. I'm not gonna lie, I was entirely thrilled to have him back, but I couldn't let our little insignificant fight be ignored. And so, sometime during our tram ride to the city, I asked him if he was going to apologize. To which he answered, 'No. I said what I felt like saying. And I don't regret it.'

It was hard not to call him an even bigger asshole after that little sentence, but I sucked it up once I thought about it. Maybe I overreacted a little. Maybe I was being a tad dramatic. So, I suppose that's why I didn't jump off the tram on the next stop and leave him to get his damn hotdog by himself.

His words did upset me a little and instead of sitting next to him, I acted like a child and moved to the seat opposite. He then proceeded to move next to me and irritate the hell out of me by poking my ticklish spot on my abdomen and whisper things about other people on the tram, things that would surely make me laugh, or at least put a smile on my face.

We reached the city and just as we got off the tram, Dylan pulled me to the nearest hotdog stand. Hot and smelling like heaven, he greeted the hotdog guy by name, paid for our delicious 'dogs and we took a seat on a random bench across from the hotdog stand. An open field stood between us, the hotdog guy and Dylan and I.

Kid's played in the open field of fake grass - as Dylan so kindly pointed out - their parents keeping a watchful eye on their tiny spawn. And along the day, we watched people, parents around, businessmen and random passerby's visit the hotdog stand, pay for their food and leave. One guy actually came back for a bit more ketchup and mustard too.

"You see that guy over there?" Dylan asked.

"The hotdog guy?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah I see him. What about him?"

"Have you noticed how every single person who's come into contact with him hasn't even bothered to look at him?"

My brow furrowed slightly. "Not really, no." Thinking back, I did recall everyone who bought a hotdog was either too busy talking on the phone, trying to keep their kid in line, or just didn't pay close enough attention. "Well, kinda. What's your point?"

"Do you know what that man does for a living?"

"Fry synthesized sausages, slap them on bread with some sauce and sell them to hungry customers?" I answered with a grin.

He returned my grin with one of his own, more satisfied than mine. "Well, yeah. But that's not all." I searched his face, his eyes twinkling with mischief and delight. It intrigued me more than you could imagine. I sat and waited for the boom of the story and he shifted closer, wrapping his arm over the back of the bench where I was sitting and swung one of his legs through the other side so he could scooch even closer to me. "That man is Bernard Hotlar. And he - designed and help built the very shuttle that's going to save our lives and take us to the New World."

My face fell. I'm sure it was entirely blank with shock. "The hotdog guy?" Dylan nodded. "You're joking."

"Wish I were, princess." He grabbed his bottom lip between his teeth as he conveyed this little secret that only he and I seemed to be currently aware of. I scoffed in disbelief and looked Bernard over. He didn't at all look even close to capable of building a world-class spaceship, let alone design it. Dylan shifted closer. His thighs were touching my leg and butt and I tried to focus on what he was saying instead of what he was touching. "Met him a few days ago. Asked him if he truly was just a hotdog guy and he spilt all the details. But nobody knows. Because they assume he's just a hotdog guy."

"So..." I began carefully, not knowing how to phrase my sentence. "What are you trying to say?"

He took a deep breath, looking over at Bernard, and said, "I'm saying NASA is giving the wrong people credit. Putting the wrong faces on the televisions and the wrong voices on the radios. And this guy, who basically did everything - designed and built the whole damn ship to get us off this hellhole of a planet - got nothing. No credit. No recognition. Just because, he's from Section 34."