text | un: m.cabrera

[naloxone]

[ turns out? space doesn't give a single fuck about your circadian rhythm. or maybe insomnia is just that attached to her that even the absence of a sun dictating her internal clock doesn't faze it, like an old friend you wish would just forget you already.

one night (?) late into the early hours (???) marta finds herself drifting out of the room she's come to assume will be hers for the indefinite future, passing through stark white walls with all the sterility of a hospital, but none of its familiar chaos.

she's still getting used to the earpiece. still getting used to hearing other people's voices in her head. she doesn't mean to add another in the void, but one of her own thoughts blares out too vividly as she stares out into an actual void: ]

—but where are the stars?

Comments

[naloxone]

Did you have time to notice them during missions?
It sounds like it would have been too busy or stressful.

[cruelyethuman]

The last mission lasted a month, the one before that was several. We had plenty of time to stop and admire the view. The starlit night, the sights that one might see if they dared to look up.

But it is a different sky and different stars. Some things are best not thought about, and the vastness of the dead space around us seems to be one of those things.

[naloxone]

There's a saying, where I'm from: ignorance is bliss.
I guess even in space the truth will sometimes still find a way to hurt you.

[cruelyethuman]

Really. And how blissful can one choose to be, in your world?

There is nowhere to hide from it, I'm afraid. But the station does offer a variety of distractions from the emptiness.

[naloxone]

It depends on who you are. Some people can't afford to be.

[ there is no way for the thought to text function to capture the wryness of her tone... but that's probably for the best. ]

Do you mean the various rooms?

[cruelyethuman]

But the rich and the nobles manage it quite well, I imagine.

I meant the alcohol.

[naloxone]

Better than most.
But it's not like they have much to worry about.

[ —oh. that's a little unfair of her to say. she can't make such broad strokes about people like that, and if harlan's taught her anything it's that money doesn't always beget apathy.

but he's the exception, not the rule. ]

You're the second person to mention that.
The stock here must be very good.

[cruelyethuman]

They never do. A curse and a blessing, being able to afford such ignorance and not suffer for it.

They're not, sadly. But the station has been generous, and really, anything will do once you start thinking about what lies ahead. The implication of our actions. I'm surprised that no one has requested a distillery yet.

[naloxone]

[ she... doesn't quite see the curse part of that, but now that she's a little more careful about her thoughts, she keeps that observation to herself. ]

Our actions?
You mean what you've done to the places you've been?

[cruelyethuman]

The missions, and our regrets. The wish that you want so desperately that you agreed to this.

[naloxone]

...Shouldn't we think about our regrets?
To remind ourselves what we're doing here... to keep us moving forward.

[cruelyethuman]

Should we. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I know my regret well enough, without having to ruminate about it in the dead stillness of space. But I've been here for a while, that might be what makes it different.

[naloxone]

That's true. I'd just made the deal, so it's still so fresh in my mind.

[cruelyethuman]

Have you been to the sunlight room yet?

[naloxone]

The sunlight room? Not really, no...

[cruelyethuman]

It is the best place on the station, even at night. The stars might be alien and created by the mind behind the promise made to us, but it is the closest to peace I've found here.

[naloxone]

[ peace. will she really be able to find that here?

(should she?) ]

Thank you. I'll keep that in mind.

I'm Marta.

[cruelyethuman]

I'm Kirigan. Welcome to the station, Marta.