J Mauldin - Final Solution

I went on with my day in fear of blinking. Each time they flickered shut I saw red lights. All I could hear in my imagination were alarms. Alarms. Alarms. The attacks wouldn’t cease. Tension had transmuted itself into stones within my back and shoulders. I asked Doc for a muscle relaxer but he declined, suggesting I take the afternoon inside a VR simulation. He recommended the beaches of Southern California, Laguna specifically. His nurse argued for the Gulf of Mexico. The sands were whiter. But I did neither; just the thought made me sick to my stomach.

That evening, César found me in forward observation gazing out the cupola. Demonio Primario had just bumped down off the Sol Net, and oddly enough, the enemy strikes had ceased. Strange as this was, I wasn’t surprised that the Axis crewmen might be fans of the show as well. Everyone loved it. It was a solar system wide event. I relaxed a little at the idea, letting the knots loosen.

“You alright, señor?” César asked. “Come watch the show with us? We’re about to get started. Devins has produce for snacks.”

I stared through the window for another moment and then nodded. “Sure. Why not? I’ll come watch.” I rolled my shoulders and got up.

César reached in his pocket and removed a pill, swallowing it without the least bit of water. I wanted to gag. “Before you worry, it’s prescribed. These are really helping. They’re not as fun as Xanax, I mean, shit, but they help mellow me out. I’ve been having wicked nightmares.”

“Glad they’re working. Told you Doc had something good.”

“You think these attacks are ever going to stop?”

I shrugged. “When we’re all dead and our bodies are scattered through space. Sure.”

“Way to make me feel safe, señor.”

Ten of us squeezed into Crew 1. There was hardly enough space for the couple of chairs they’d pulled in out of the Cargo Bay. Most of us just sat on bunks or on the floor. As promised, the table in the middle of the room had a bowl of fresh produce. This was a rarity, a treat, something we were only given once every few months to break up the monotony of our slop. And so we ate gladly, laughed and set a relaxing mood. There was no danger in here. In this moment, we were safe, brought together by a need to connect under the flag of fiction.

Griffin shot into the room and snatched a green bell pepper from the top of the produce pile. “Oh, man, I could fuck a bell pepper.” Everyone spun to glare at her. “What?” She stared back and took a seat on one of the bunks, her teeth crunching into the vegetable. César found a place beside her, and she scooted away, giving him enough space to fit.

When Kelly arrived a couple of minutes later he took a seat on the other side of Griffin. He glanced at the bowl of produce, carrots, bell peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers, and shook his head. César raised an eyebrow at him. Kelly was just a little too close to Griffin for his comfort.

“Anyone got ranch dip?” Devins asked, glancing at me for an instant. Someone threw a carrot at his face. “Hey, hey!” Another carrot slapped him, and then another. “Assholes. All of you. I just wanted some ranch dip. It never hurts to ask, am I right?”

“Yes, you’re right, Harold,” Jack Lake, his assistant, said. “Now hush, it’s about to start.”

“So,” Devins recovered the carrots and shook one in the air, “did someone mention violating a bell pepper?” We zipped our mouths’ closed and didn’t say a word. Griffin shrunk down in her seat.

“Are we gonna watch the show?” Jack grumbled. “Or just fondle each other?”

César took up his tablet and pointed to the display hanging on the wall. “Keep your suit on, Jack.”

A couple of the enlisted crewmembers slipped on VR goggles to watch the show in 3D. Most of us opted not to, especially me. We wanted to be able to talk with one another during breaks, making this a social affair and not just a binge watching session with warm bodies.

“What are you plebs up to?” Comm asked, sticking her curly head into the room from out in the hall and looking as if she’d just woken up. She raised a cucumber, dipped it in a tiny box filled with white sauce, and took a bite. A blob of dressing covered her lip ring, and so she awkwardly worked her tongue to lick it clean.

The show began, a massive score of electro-orchestral music building along with the opening credits.

“Shh!” César said in reflex, raising a finger to her. “I mean, shh, señorita. Sorry, ma’am.”

Comm rolled her eyes and reached in her pocket, tossing a pile of sauce boxes on the table before sauntering off down the hall.

“Bitch brought us ranch dressing,” Devins mumbled, and took one for himself. The rest of them quickly vanished.

One of the scrubs stretched out on the floor lifted her visor to glower at him. “If you didn’t call her a bitch behind her back, maybe she’d do it more often. You have a great way of making relations between us and officers tense. Good work, loud mouth.”

“But if I’m talking behind her back, how does she even know?” He bit into one of the tossed carrots and gave a cheshire grin.

“That’s not the point.” She slid back on her visor.

As we watched the show, César fought to steer all conversation towards Griffin. He chatted incessantly with her during breaks, despite the fact that she seemed distant to his intentions.

“You see that guy?” he said, leaning closer. “Met him at an event in Arsia Mons, like two years ago. The show hadn’t really hit its stride yet, but he was cool. Shorter than he looks on screen.”

“Oh, yeah? Wow,” she replied, sounding about as interested as a preteen studying the history of philately.

César caught me watching and his eyes turned dark. “Yeah, and that episode where Enrique killed the demon with his teeth,” he went on, speaking at, not to, Griffin, “it was actually raw chicken he was biting.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Maybe, but it looked so convincing. What other shows are you into right now?”

She shrugged. “Oh you know. The usual stuff.”

“You, eh, like Days ?”

She furrowed her brows and frowned at him.

“ Days of …” he struggled to find a cover-up word. “Err, Summers Past? ”

The poor guy was losing ground, or maybe she just wanted to watch the show. Griffin turned away and Kelly smiled as they exchanged a little small talk. Griffin put her hand on Kelly’s arm and he leaned in, whispering something in his ear. César didn’t like that at all.

I fixed my attention on the screen, ignoring the power struggle that unfolded beside me. The mist rose and the demons arrived just after dark. Our heroes fought back with magically warded weapons while fleeing to their protected homes. The evil creatures from the core of the earth pounded against the defenses fruitlessly. At the cries of a young child, Enrique, the muscular lead, ran from the safety of his house and into mortal danger, dashing several demons in his wake.

“Hey, David,” César whispered in my ear, ripping me away from the show. My body shivered. I hated interruptions when I was in so deep.

“What? What is it?”

César tipped his head at Kelly, who was now tapping that long pinky nail against the surface of his tablet. “What’s up with that ugly thing? I’ve seen people down in Digton who favor it. But, it’s kind of gross.”

“Drugs?” I mused, keeping my voice low. “Handy scoop to snort a bump or dig out a line?”

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem the drugs type. Some people say it’s sexual. He could be a pervert.”

I shuttered at the thought. “If that’s sexual, I don’t want to know how. There’s enough nasty shit on the Sol Net already. Tell me, how did monster and tentacle sex ever become a thing?”