pe woke up next to his bed. he had fallen off of it again. glancing
over at his window, which was covered by thin, floral curtains. he
could tell from the lack of light that it was still too early. just
before dawn, probably.
pe got dressed and walked along the blue polished floor towards the
kitchen, counting his steps on the way there. it had become a habit
for pe to count his steps. he didn't know why. maybe it was fun or
something. it takes 15 steps to get to the kitchen. it used to take 9,
but that was back before he relied on coffee to give him energy.
grabbing a moonclay coffee mug from a cabinet, pe wondered why they
had to be so heavy. he filled it with coffee, which had been brewed
automatically via timer. he took a sip. a dark, earthy taste. not good
by any means, but the best you can get in this sector. he set it down
for a moment to draw some blinds. the sun was starting to rise. that's
the nice thing about living on a dry moon: no clouds. every morning is
light and full of vitamin d. it's not the best for the skin, by any
means, but water is available to purchase, and the body adapts to the
climate.
pe finished up his coffee, and noticed that the mug started to lighten
up a bit. gravity wasn't pulling him down as hard as it used to. the
caffeine was working.
checking the led warning panel, pe noticed that only the white bulb
was lit. white: "dust warning". not only was the moon dry. it was
dusty. practically *made* of dust! the dust was a metallic pink, when
the storms act up, they look like huge spools of cotton candy from
a distance.
pe put on his dust suit. he needed to go out today. yesterday he had
built a microcomputer that could calculate precise routes for
inter-planetary travel for self-driven supply ships. right now it's
sort of possible, but it's very labour-intensive, and is not at all a
mature industry. of course, one night out is good enough to test to
see if it works, and although it may *survive* a dust storm, whether
or not it's anchored down well enough is another question. it could
get blown away, or at least buried, pretty easily, seeing how small
it is.
"usually 'dust warning' just means something light. visual
obstruction and whatnot", thought pe. the computer was less than a
300 steps out, just on a hill. the dust started rising from the
ground. a common occurance on this moon.
pe reached the device, and unscrewed it from its unprofessionally
flimsy mount. taking it home, he realized that the dust was making it
hard to see. he couldn't see his house off in the distance. that's
alright though, this happens almost every day. pe knew his way around
this moon like the back of his hand. he just had to walk straight from
here.
all of a sudden, the dust started to shift colour. from a metallic
pink to a deep black. like ash. pe started to panic. the dust storm
was bad enough. he didn't need anything he wasn't already familiar
with! his walk turned to run turned to sprint, wondering what sort of
chemical anomaly had just happened, that could change the colour of
an entire moon!
He could start to make out the outline of his house. "finally", he
thought, "back home". he openede the door and closed it behind him,
checking the warning lights again. still just white.
turning, pe saw something that struck him with fear. in the center of
his living room, stood a figure. it was almost human, but pe couldn't
make out the details. it was like seeing something out of the corner
of your eye, even though you're looking right at it.
it looked at pe, and spoke in a voice that almost sounded like
radio static. "y...ou. have something th...at i need"
"what? you mean this thing?" pe asked, revealing the transport
calculator.
"n...o. some-ing important"
"i... don't understand what you mean!" pe replied, slightly offended
that the intruder implied his calculator was "unimportant".
the being started to blur out even more, and then vanished. looking
out the window, pe saw that the dust was pink again.
on the table, pe noticed a class-9 audio diskette. the kind given out
to government officials on densely populated planets. there was no
label on it, but it was ancient. this diskette could probably only
record 20 seconds of audio, if that.
digging around, pe found a vintage diskette reader, and threw in the
tape. it was an audio recording from a conversation, but just a clip.
"... and don't forget to ask for some sugar. it's *important*! these
cookies have to be *sweet*!"
"technology", thought pe, "i'll never be able to keep up with it."
