Ficlets

The Last Roughneck's Breakfast

Turbine Station V operates on standard Earth UTC , which can be a little confusing against the 10-hour days of Jupiter.

Yesterday I met up with Landry again. Nice guy, if a little whiny. He explained how one day I might wake up in time for the sunset, and watch an entire solar cycle fly by before bedtime comes at dawn’s second appearance. The next day, just the opposite. It’s why the cabins don’t have windows, he explained. The crew here just ignores local time and pretends we’re all still on Earth.

And so it’s morning now as I breakfast alone in the mess hall, the dome shrouded in a Jupiter night. I made sure to wake up before most of the rest of the crew, to get a jump on the day.

Cereal bars are provided in a handful of flavorless varieties. Not much fun to chew, but quite filling. The coffee’s average.

I’m reviewing the station layout on the tablet I’ve been issued when the entire room jolts on its axis; my mug ejects from the table and I nearly follow it to the floor.

A klaxon screams bloody murder.

View this story's 1 comments.