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Chapter 4: The Brewing Storm.

There's faint buzzing sound. It builds up as something hovers near my ear, then recedes again like an irritating fly. 'Good morning sir,' a disembodied voice blares.  I groan, flip over onto my back and glare at the dinner-plate-sized disk that's hovering above the foot of my bed. A small black screen propped up on its front displays the weather forecast, the time and other useful yet equally boring information. 'How did you sleep?'

'Like a stoned squirrel,' I reply groggily, aware, as always, that my reply won't matter to the drone. 

'Good to hear.' The machine intoned thoughtlessly. 'You have 2 new messages. Would you like some toast?'

'I, what? No, play the messages first Sal.' 

'What kind of toast would you like?' Sal replied monotonously as he buzzed around my small apartment towards the kitchen. 

'I don't want any toast Sal. I want you to play the messages.' I pushed myself out of bed and padded barefoot in pursuit behind him. I liked the drone to read me any messages I had in the morning, it felt far too early to have my viber do it. But the drone was old and a bit senile, bless him.

 I thought it gave him personality. 

'Marmalade toast. Honey Toast. 'The Tits' toast.' The drone reeled  of its programmed list of toast variations (the last one was one of mine, marmite and peanut butter. Don't judge me till you've tried it.)

'No toast. Messages.'

'Preparing to dispense toast. Toast calibration sequence initiated - standby.'

'Don't, I... I swear to God Sal if you make toast I'm replacing you with a dustbin lid and an alarm clock.'

Sal said nothing. The two of us faced each other in a silent standoff. A mechanical priiiing sound came from deep within the machine. A slice of marmalade toast popped out in a metal drawer. 'Toast dispensed.' Sal thrilled triumphantly. 

'You and your fucking toast!' I glared angrily at the machine for a second. I grabbed the toast. 'Now, messages!' I yelled thickly around a mouthful of toast, spraying crumbs over the belligerent machine. 

His victory for the day now achieved - Sal complied. 'Message 1: Morning Buttface. I am going to 4th and 82nd Street. Meet me there, at 9. Don't be late, or I will eat your bagel.' Even before Sal had a chance to read the senders name, I knew it was Abby. 

I went back into my bedroom and sifted through the clothes littering the floor to find something clean. Or that at least smelled clean. 

'Message 2:' Sal continued 'Hey Elis, great to see you last night.' I paused my hunt and inclined my head toward the machine. 'Sorry I had to leave so early, coffee to make up? XX' Sal paused. 'Sender ID: Kelly.' 

Of course, the stupid machine was supposed to tell me that part first, save me guessing the whole way through the message, but as I've said, Sal was more than slightly useless.

Kelly though huh? I thought for a moment before instructing Sal on what to reply. Then I had a shower, put on my clean(ish) clothes and headed outside. 

*

The artificial sun was just starting to rise on the horizon as the projected sky above me displayed a beautiful sunrise, orange and yellow. Stratton Station was equipt with the latest in environmental control technology. We had 4 seasons here, daily day/night cycles and even weather. Rain fell from sprinklers in the ceiling, a wind came from powerful turbines at the edges of the habitat and hot and cold air came from the industrial processes deep inside the hollowed out interior of the asteroid beneath us. We even had snow in the winter. 

All of this combined to give the illusion, if not quite the whole feeling, of planetary life. But even so, to have accomplished the illusion at all this far out on the fringes of space was an impressive feat none-the-less. 

Today was a biting day in early autumn. The trees around us that formed part of the stations carefully monitored oxygen scrubbing system had begun to lose the vibrant green of their leaves, replacing it with mottled yellows, browns and reds. I huddled inside my coat as a strong wind blew from the East and wandered off towards the nearest transit station - huge lifts that shunted traffic up and down the multiple layers of the habitat.

Today was going to be an interesting day.