«Anne is going to walk through the door now»
Ralph turned around to see Anne walking in to the cafeteria
«And she will walk over and ask you about the bug report» Bob continued.
Anne walked by them, then abruptly stopped and turned towards them
«Ralph, did you send me the bug report?» she asked ignoring Bob.
«First thing when I get back» Ralph muttered through a mouth full of lettuce.
There was silence after Anne left, with Bob starting to mildly panic and Ralph looking at Bob intently
«Oh my god, do you think this is actually happening?» Bob lowered his voice
«I do» Ralph said quietly
Ralph then pressed his finger to his ear and whispered some words.
Everything stopped, the cafeteria walls disappeared to reveal a large metallic room circling around them.
«Ralph?»Bob asked.
«You're getting better at this» Ralph said.
Bob tried to get up from his chair but was pushed down harshly by two of the people in cafeteria.
«What is this?» Bob asked.
«An experiment of sorts» Ralph answered.
Ralph motioned to Anne who placed a cold metal helmet on Bobs' head.
Bob looked around trying to commit this scene so deep into his memory that nothing could remove it. There was a cold white flash of light.
Bob sat at his chair admiring the color of the coffee he had made. His calendar indicated that the weekly marketing meeting was about to begin. Not again, he groaned to himself.
Short story originally written for a contest on the SciFi profile by Wattpadder Simplat whose profile is well worth checking out
SWilson4995 Asteriod 433 Eros
I watch them as they shuffle into the station’s only barroom. The places where they grew up and the cultures that they were raised in could not be more different, but they all have one thing in common. They all came here to make a living.
They have a hard look in their eyes. They’re survivors, pioneers. Hardy people who wear scruffy kerchiefs around their heads, lumberjack coats that fray at the seams and jeans that have long ago molded to the form of their legs. Their faces are creased from hard work in the blaze of sunshine.
These are the lifers: the technicians of the station who take their mandated six month break every three years, and then immediately return from Earth for another three years of work here. They’ve made their lives here, and range in age from early twenties to late fifties. And I’ve been sent to Asteroid 433 Eros specifically to be their boss.
We couldn’t be more different. Some of them barely finished high school but at thirty years old, I just completed my Doctor of Philosophy in Geological Sciences at the University of British Columbia. Unlike them, I don’t want to be here. What I really wanted was to do was become a professor: to publish scientific articles, run a lab and field experiments, and maybe teach a few classes.
But in the past few years, there’s been a sudden glut of people with advanced degrees in all fields. Gaining a professorial position, let alone tenure, has become all by impossible. My choice was clear. Either sign up for endless postdocs or take a job with Interplanetary Mining, Incorporated. Now I’m their lead Geotechnical Engineer on the second largest near-Earth object in rotation around the sun.
The site is rich in precious ores needed back on Earth. They’re used in the manufacturing of everything from consumer goods to the space shuttle that brought me here. Interplanetary has already finished the first phase of mining consisting of removing the large piles of ore and stones from the asteroid's surface. Now they’re ready for phase two: underground mining. And that's why they need me.
When I arrived, I was assigned a crew of mine engineers and monitoring technicians. Their job was to map the mining shafts, cataloging the types of rock and amount and type of ores found within. My job is to oversee their operations. And so I have to maintain professional distance. I can’t be a part of their gossip or the ghost stories they like to tell about the asteroid.
Karen, a gruff forty–something woman who serves as my administrative assistant, comes lumbering towards me. I’m sitting at a wobbly table on my own as my subordinates file in. For them, this was a weekly rituaclass="underline" bar night. It’s only open once a week to curtail the alcoholism that plagued the station in its early days. At least, that’s what Karen had told me. There was nothing to do on Eros 433 back then, she said, so most people would spend every one of their off–duty hours in the bar. Since then, Interplanetary added a shiny new gym, a dry lounge with pool and ping pong tables, a library and a movie screening room complete with massage chairs. But every Friday night from quitting time to five a. m., the bar is packed. It’s a dimly lit, wood paneled room that shines from the grease of pub food. At the back, there’s a long bar with a brass rail. The rest of the room is crowded with broken chairs and crooked tables. There’s a dart board on one wall.
She sits down heavily across from me. «You heard?»
«The new arrival? Yeah, I heard.»
«Sure to god we’ll miss Aggie, but this one’s young and from what I’ve heard, he’s hungry.»
«Guess that’s good,” I agree in the telegraphic speech that everyone here seems to favor.
«None too hard on the eyes I hear.»
«Okay.»
She smiles at me conspiratorially. «Finally someone for you.»
I inwardly groan as she winks. But I get what she’s saying. Ever since I arrived a month ago, I’ve been isolated. Aggie — a Brazilian man who’s real name was Agamemnon and who was the station’s IT department, was the only worker on the station who was had the same level of education as me. But he was close to retirement. We didn’t have much in common. Add to that the fact that he was constantly solving issues with the AI and data systems, and that I know next to nothing about the workings of computers. Most of the time we’d only exchange a friendly nod of recognition.
But now Aggie was gone for good, back to Earth to enjoy the gobs of money he’s accumulated here after working for a couple decades and having nothing to spend it all on. After all, it’s not as if there’s anything on this rock except the mining station. Now the only person who’s not my subordinate at the station hierarchy was Grayson, the station director who is everyone’s boss and the corporate representative for Interplanetary. And I don’t exactly enjoy talking to him.
She leaves to find her first drink. I fiddle with my glass filled with rum and coke, pretending that I don’t see how every one of the mine workers barely notice me on their way to the bar. I watch as the ice cubes slowly melt into the coke, and wonder where I’d be now if I had only stayed on Earth. Two years and eleven months. That’s how much longer I’m contractually obliged to stay on this tiny rock spinning around the sun. Where did I get the guts to just leave my life on Earth and come here? I know the answer all too well. It wasn’t guts. It was running away from my problems. I raise the glass to my lips, downing the rest of the drink in a single gulp.
«This seat taken?» As I lower the glass, I see that someone’s come over to my table. The first thing I notice about him is that he’s smiling — a sideways smile that is immediately disarming. The second thing I realize is that, like everyone here, he has an accent. But I can’t place it.
I shake my head and gesture to the empty seat across from me. I don’t recognize him from the station. «You must be the new guy,” I say.
He places his pint of ale down on the table and another rum and coke in front of me. «Is it that obvious?»
«Other than being a new face, no one else would dare approach me like this. Afraid to get a bad evaluation, I think.»
«Even if you were my boss, I couldn’t just let you drink alone, could I?»
I find out that his name is Stephan Lavoie and that he grew up outside Paris, in some little town that no one’s ever heard of.