The Originators

CHAPTER 4: BROTHER FROM ANOTHER PLANET (MERC)

I.

Watching them bounce around the Unistation, pasty sunken faces, cloaked in spider webs, dangling mothballs, shuffling around, clinging to each other, I wanted to throw up.

They pretend each day they have answers that they know everything. They know nothing.

Their eternal chorus, "We just have to wait. It will all work out eventually," is so overplayed I want to toss it into a hyper-orbit spiral.

I especially enjoy it when they say, "It's taking a bit longer than we projected, but when we recalibrate, we know at least the plan is only off by a few tri-bits. It's important to be patient during times like this."

Since they can't even fucking figure out where we originally came from, old fools, why exactly would I be confident in their judgment now?

I pretend not to see their disapproving looks as I fly around the hallways of the Uni. I'm actually in search of something mildly interesting or amusing at the very least to focus on. Ori promised me this place was where the power lay in wait. He didn't tell me that while "waiting" the power died.

He was sincere when he confided to me, "This is where things happen." My cousin is an honest fellow, so I believed him.

In this case, I wonder if Ori's perception of what's real and what's not is altering. Maybe he's become resigned to silencing his own question marks as he settles in at this orbiting old folk's home. I'm sure he's experiencing a wonderful quality of life at this "senior center" located on the Moon's Unistation. Good times.

Everything about the place is like chewing old, stale paper because you're starving; then spitting it out because it doesn't come close to satisfying your hunger. You have to acknowledge it's not really food, so why bother pretending.

The company is dismal. The virtual life system they invented for themselves, because we can't visit the home planet anymore, is obviously archaic and starting to malfunction. The infrastructure of the Uni has been falling apart for ages now. It's pitiful to watch the old one's wander around; spending hours trying to articulate what the first step is in planning even a minor repair. To top it all off, really, the food is disgusting.

II.

I walk into the communal eating room. This is the place where they love to gather. Today is just an increasingly bad repeat of the day before. The usual small group of sad seniors are all here: Ana, Ori, Tara, Minnie, Tem, and Neth. I almost don't notice that Od is missing. He'll show up sooner or later, I'm sure. It's a sorry state of affairs I actually know that Od's favorite meal of the day is breakfast. The assembled group's conversation is dull and predictable, surprise... When did they stop living; hoping?

"Tara, tell us a story about how you first spun life into our planet."

Tara rises. She's no longer plump, no longer like a ripe, juicy plum; she's a wrinkled prune. I so wanted, so, so long ago, to sink into her. I can barely stand to look at her, let alone envision touching her.

"Well, it was the beginning of a magical journey. First, I went into the lab, and naturally I had to turn off the brighter lights as too much light can distract you from the task at hand. I actually looked at the light setting, and asked myself, 'Tara, should you set it to seven, which would be medium high, or should I set it to eight, which would be slightly above medium high?'"

Tara stops for a moment to rub her forehead, she shakes her head, and continues, "Then I wondered should I really have set it to five, which of course is an in-between? Have you ever wondered if you were really making the right decision at that exact moment? You might, you might not..." Tara looks at everyone, waiting for a response.