Lower CoSMOS: Grate Exspactations!

            “Why does it seem like it is always like this,” Kaitlin said, still not fully cognizant.

            The crew members glanced at each other, sitting in chairs affixed to the ship’s floor. Beside them was Toxer, their obligatory android assistant, whose humanoid torso connected horizontally to the vessel’s side. He spun around several times. They all assumed out of constant analysis; none reading any behavior documentation associated with the movement. Captain Kaitlin Reseen affixed her eyes on the wall, bright lines shot into Toxer from the ceiling; entering the round base where he lodged half his frame. When switching the direction of the embedded beams, Toxer also moved likewise, sending the signal to another part of the ship. Kaitlin released herself from viewing the trail of hypnotic lines remembering where she stood. It disrupted the captain’s thoughts, and she glanced back at her two crew members.

            “Burb,” she said with a scrunching of her nose and batting of her eyes as she popped out of her trance.

            “Ok. We are waiting, Captain,” said Conroy Clarksbergshireman, a middle-aged helmsman wearing a robe and slippers. The robe covered his official uniform. Captain Reseen donned satin sleeping attire, concealing any improprieties. Carrie Voni, around twenty-seven, was the other member, still in Neo-American uniform but without her shoes or safety expedition helmet to be constantly worn.

            “I get it, Boss. I get it. You mean nothing is different?” Carrie said.

            “Uh. Yes. The meeting here. It is us. A crew of three of the bravest Earth has to offer, and what do we find on the closest planet after they use us as the Guinea pigs to “frameshift?”

            “You’re assuming I have confirmed a complete allocation of the habitation,” Toxer said.

Conroy raised his hand. Kaitlin scanned the room to note the lack of opposition to Conroy’s request prompting him to speak.

            “That was a long nap, Cap. A tinkle, if I may?”

            “By all means, please,” the Captain pointed toward a long hallway to her right side.

            “It felt like a few seconds to me,” Carrie said, staring at her crewmate while he stood to walk to relieve himself elsewhere. In passing, Conroy glared at Toxer rotating its arms and communicating with the vessel’s side without having to enter another part of the ship.

            “We will wait for you, Conroy. There are important things to go over now that we are here.”

            “Aye!” he said from a distance down the hall to the restrooms. Carrie glared away at an empty part of their open-ended meeting chamber. She stared at the star in a large viewing port. The planet Zaksza is in full glowing blue-green view. The Captain whipped her head back to Conroy’s striding frame.

            “And don’t touch anything,”

            “I have to flush,” he said.

            Kaitlin kept her eyes on him while he opened the door to the latrine; it creaked and clasped after his entry. She turned her head back to Carrie and caught her somber face, squinted eyes, and disgusted lips as if smacking on a distasteful cracker.

            “What is it?”

Carrie shook her head in short quick pivots, flinching one of her shoulders in a brief spasm.

            “A man? Why a man? And a middle-aged man?”

            “You knew when you signed, Starlent Voni.”

            “Yes. Yes. What are the other options though to test out anything in books or holographs, printed landscapes, and intrusive bio simulations, Captain? Aren’t you uncomfortable?” she said.

Kaitlin considered it. “No. Have you examined his bio?”

“They lie on those things. He’s single and hasn’t been in any relationship for fifteen years, Commander,” Carrie said.

            “So. Are you looking?”

            “Gawds,” Carrie said and chuckled with a roll of her eyes.

            “If you were, you signed. He knows the rules as well. It is a moot point. We maintain professionalism until we can record our presence here and go on,” she said.

            “That’s it? We made the trip, and that’s it, right?” Carrie said.

            “We are halfway there. Once Toxer is done, we check vitals, sustenance reimbursement, and frame back home,” Kaitlin said.

            A grin stretched out from one end of Carrie’s face to the other.

            “Easiest coin in the Muzi nebula,” she said.

            “Where?”

            “I don’t know, sounds spacey,” Carrie said. There was a lull. Captain Kaitlin shot her attention back to Conroy in impatience. The things racing in her head included getting back home like the rest of them, making slightly above the pay of both members combined. It did not mean much. She was as single as Conroy, and to her and her Glorgul, the pet accident of 21st-century chimeric experiments, it was more than enough. What the hell is single? She recalled shifting in from Earth to space, followed by a loud obtrusive noise and a deep “mooooonnnnnnnnnnn” sound like a tuba through a dark tunnel.

            “Have you read up on shifting, Starlent?” Kaitlin said.

*****

            Head in hand, Conroy wept and took a forefinger to the bottom of his nose, wiping the water and disposing of the extra fluid on his robe. His hands clawed onto his hair as he sat with the toilet seat down, digging his nails into his scalp. Keeping his eyes closed, he whimpered and groaned but kept the volume at a minimum.

            “Something in need?” A voice said.

            “No. No. Stop. I am fine,” Conroy said.

            “Music?” the voice said.

            “What? I peed. Uh. Maybe when I twice in the bowl, ok?”

            Conroy ceased his sorrow and tilted his head up to stare at the white wall ahead of him, a circular light beamed from the top of the ceiling, and a small mirror was centered five feet above the floor.

            “Why aren’t there windows in this thing?” he said.

            “Concentration on fluid and fecal removal,” the voice answered, “Would you like some music your stress levels are near maximum.”

            “Fine. It couldn’t hurt,” Conroy said.

            “Decade, please.”

            Soaked in anxiety, Conroy’s brain halted. He sighed, “I don’t know. Why is this an option in the toilet?”

            “The locals love disco,” the voice said.

            “What locals?”

*****

“Me vox nue tonit glon,” Toxer said, “Helmsman Conroy is returning.” Kaitlin glanced at Toxer.

            “You see, he is on his way, and Tox here knows our every step. Nothing to worry about.”

            Kaitlin stared at the floor dreaming of coffee but Toxer’s former speech stunted her blissful mental relaxation.

            “What was that language Tox?” Kaitlin said.

            “It is local Antimon,” Tox said.

            “Antimon?” Carrie said, her brow curled, and both women glared at each other.

            “You done, Tox? Let’s move this along.”

Conroy returned and rubbed his hands, tying his robe; he sat in his chair again. Carrie maintained vigilance. Tox returned to gathering data, and his torso slid along the wall to the hall where Conroy exited. The crew eye him take leave.

            “Now, what did you mean, Captain, about nothing is different?” Conroy said.

            She chuckled, “Ah. Yes. Why is it? Well, when I was a child, teenager, adult; we expected androids, maybe untrustworthy ones, space travel, uniforms, etc.” She waved her hand out to Carrie as an example of proper space attire, “Galactic consortiums and what did we get?”

            “Oh yeah. Yeah. I see,” Conroy said, “Go ahead, Captain. I am reeling this in.”

            “The same?” Carrie said.

            “Exactly what we imagined. Anticipated, but a construct of what we dreamed. Nothing else.”

            “We didn’t hyperspace, or drive, or whatever our ship does here though, Captain. If you don’t mind me saying,” Conroy said.

            “Good point.”

            “That may have been eons away with how people behave,” Carrie said.

The Captain nodded.

            “The strife though is why we are here. People may act in ways that reverse the course of progress and fight against change by their stupidity and lust of various kinds, but without that, frameshifting may have never happened,” Kaitlin said.

Carrie nodded and glared away. Conroy stared at her.

            “What’s up, Starlent?”

            “Can we move on to something else? Was there an itinerary we must meet?” Carrie said. Conroy kept his eyes on Carrie. She glared back, jerking her head to get him to stop. He turned away with a deep breath and adjusted his position.

            “I’m a bit hazy on frameshifting, Captain. I’ll give listen if Starlent Voni doesn’t want to hear it. Technology is past me, you know,” Conroy said. Kaitlin brought her attention to Carrie. Eyes stayed on her, and she turned he head to the Captain.

            “Alright. Alright. I will if you don’t mind, Captain?” Carrie said.

            “Please do,” she said.

            As Carrie begins, a beat started with it, accompanied by a blast. The communication speakers throughout the ship pumped in the sounds. With bass and treble, bump and drum, a synth track laid on top of the pressing commotion. Kaitlin and Carrie’s eyes darted to Conroy.

            “Helmsman stress level as ninety-three point seven anx,” the voice said.

            “All I did was flush the loo,” Conroy said with a shrug to the Captain. His eyes moved to Carrie, who froze. One of her eyes, her right, expanded with the music, changing colors with each successive beat stretching it into the air an inch toward the hull’s port window without stopping.

            “Starlent!” Conroy said, then unable to speak.