UPDATE: This Story can now be found in Podcast form. Checkout the audio short here.
When I was living on the streets, I used to think the earlier years of this millennium were better. Afterall, the food was bountiful but had to be cooked by humans out of necessity. Most people lived above the poverty line and had a disposable income to spend on entertainment, but they didn’t have the quality programming we have now. in the early 2000s, homeless orphans like me didn’t have to sell themselves into testing to stay alive. Unfortunately for them, it wouldn’t have even been an option. Things have changed a bit, c’est la vie – this is my life.
They tell me I would weight 1,200 pounds if I were on Earth being pulled down by its gravity. Luckily all Earth’s gravity does for me up here is keep me in orbit.
A few months into this experience I realized I was gaining weight, but it wasn’t a bad thing. Afterall, I had been starving before I volunteered for this and this ship I live in was launched into space. But now I weigh 1,200 pounds, should I be concerned? They aren’t worried, and to me, it isn’t even a fathomable number.
They, the scientists that orchestrated this whole experiment, promised me a trip to space, unlimited food, and entertainment while I ate. On the streets, the closest I got to entertainment while I ate was picking beetles out of my bread. I was 16 and starving. I had no other choice. And even if I had another option, I wouldn’t have taken it. Now I live up here in the heavens.
When they sent me into space, I was six-foot and 120 pounds. I was skin, bones, and most of the necessary organs. Years before I had sold the ones I could survive without on the black market. They printed me new ones before shipping me into space.
I’m a happy man if my earlobes were a little longer I might even be the Buddha. I worried every day back on Earth, now I don’t have to think at all. Up here’s there’s nothing to worry about. Everything is automatic, and the only thing I can control is when I get new shows.
I only get new shows when I eat. That’s the catch, but what’s a poor orphan going to do? It’s not a bad deal either, I wouldn’t have either of these if I were back on Earth.
They show me old shows sometimes. I remember a joke that a comedian from early 2000 told. He said, “the meals not over when I’m full, it’s over when I’m miserable.” He was skinny compared to me. But unlike him, I’ve had the luxury of practice. At this point, I’m a professional. The meal is only over when my show is over.
The only thing to do up here is watch the screen while I eat. I live in a room, it’s just the right size for me. It used to be big, but I grew into it. Three of the walls are blank black slates. Another, more impressive wall, is filled with a massive screen. That’s where the shows come on. There’s a small hole in the wall that delivers food. When the food floats out the screen comes on.
My spaceship has no clocks in it. There’s no window to tell day or night or where I am above the earth. There was when I showed up, but they seem to have weaned me off of it. I never notice the things they do to me. Why should I? I can’t control them or change them. They send me food, and that regulates the programming. I refuse to bite the hand that feeds.
I sleep when I want. It was strange to get used to just falling asleep in zero gravity. I’d bump around the room, and it would wake me up. Now I’m big enough that this space is a cradle. Regardless of my size, the ship was always more comfortable than the rough city streets.
The food is always the same. The next meal will have two pizzas, fried chips, and a milkshake. It will take me an hour to eat it. If I take longer, they’ll shut off my shows but when I finish they shut off my shows anyway, regardless of if the episode is over. It’s an art to time it just right, but I’m a professional.
If I want to eat more, and I’ve trained myself to want more, I’ll be served a hero sandwich. “Hero” is an understatement for this sandwich. It’s the length of my arm span, or at least it was when I the room had the space for me to extend my arms. After I finish the first sandwich, I’ll be allowed to order two more. I always eat both.
They show the best shows when I’m extra hungry, so I’m always extra hungry. I know I’m allowed up to 45 minutes for each sandwich, so I use every one. If I take too long, they black out my screen. If I don’t take long enough, I won’t get to watch to the end of the episode.
When I’m finished with that and inevitably still hungry they’ll send me a platter of cookies. I can eat these pretty slow, one every 2 minutes or so for two hours. It’s a relaxing pace. But they never show anything fun when I’m eating sweets. But it’s better than staring at the blank walls of the spaceship.
Then the pattern repeats. All the food is cooked on board by the automatic chef. Once every ten servings of pizzas or so I can order whatever I want. I challenge myself to order the weirdest thing possible. My personal bests was a sandwich with ice cream toppings with jalapeño and bacon flavored soda. Neither tasted good, but I got a show with them. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to stump the automatic chef yet. Maybe one of these days I’ll order something it can’t make.
Every 40th pizza or so I order something off the menu my room shakes a little. I assume it’s docking with a satellite to resupply. But it doesn’t matter to me, I get served all the same.
All in all, I live a happy life. I don’t have to worry about going to the bathroom, that’s all automated. I don’t have to move anywhere, everything I could ever need is within an arms reach. Every fifth serving of pizza I get hosed down by the room.
My health isn’t even something I have to care about. Once my chest hurt a lot and I passed out. I woke up sometime later, it must have been awhile because I didn’t have to watch reruns for at least 40 pizzas. Maybe they were kind enough to print me a new heart. I’ll never know nor do I particularly care. It was a deal for me because I got a new heart, and most importantly new shows.
This is a life I could never have imagined growing up in the city, and I’m so grateful to the Federation for giving me this opportunity. I just hope the other kids on the street might be given the same chance I was.
The bell just rang. Pizza’s here!
Photo Credit: Jon Åslund, Visualhunt, VisualHunt.com, Cristóbal Alvarado Minic, _BuBBy_, Andria
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