Crescentstarr

I don’t want to wake up, Michael thought. This sleep feels amazing…Oh no…I hate this part. That damn swishing sound the doors make when the interlocks are released. The cool air is rushing in, taking away the warm, cozy feeling, which I would imagine a mother’s womb must feel like to an unborn child. Oh, shit; here comes the probe light. I want to keep my eyes closed, but I know what always follows is that goddamn horn. The conscious-piercing octave is designed to awaken those in hyper sleep. It rattles me every time.

            Michael was the sole human occupant of the spacecraft called Apex. He was lying in a hyper-chamber, coming out of hyper sleep. This was the only way humans could survive the great speed achieved in the folding of space-time, which allowed for travel through long distances in outer space. His only companion was an AI cybernetic computer system, interphased throughout the ship, named Fatimah. 

Michael did not know if that were his real name. He only knew Fatimah told him it was five years ago. That was the first time he remembered waking up from hyper sleep. He did not remember anything before that moment. He had been visiting different planets and completing assignments given to him by Fatimah and from Mr. X. She said he was the commander and orchestrator of their missions, which were often violent.

           The glass doors of the chamber slowly opened as the overhead lights shut off. Michael was fully awake but refused to open his eyes. Any opportunity he had to annoy Fatimah was an opportunity he seized. He lay in his cocoon as he heard the clicking sounds of relays energizing in the background. Other than that, there was an eerie silence. No two creatures could be so different but similar at the same time. Michael, made of flesh and bone, and Fatimah, made of wires and circuit boards. Nevertheless, their stubbornness, induced by narcissism, was quite analogous.

         Right now, through the silence, they were playing a game of cat and mouse. Would he stop pretending to be asleep before she acknowledged she knew he was pretending? A full three-and-a-half minutes passed before Fatimah’s electronic voice broke the silence. Her tone was female, sweet, and tranquil, which on occasion hid her sarcasm. It took Michael a full month after his first awakening to catch on. Her voice echoed through speakers stationed throughout the ship.

           “Michael, your acetylcholine levels are off the chart. Hence, I know you are awake,” she said.

          Michael said nothing. With his eyes shut, he turned to his side in the fetal position. A few seconds later, the blaring collision alarm sounded. Michael’s eyes popped open as he sat up and bumped his head on the side of the chamber’s door. He leaped out of the chamber. As his feet hit the cold floor, it felt like tiny ice needles piercing his skin. He ran to the front of the ship’s bridge and leaned over the helm station. As he looked out the viewport window, which spanned the whole front of the ship, he saw a large asteroid quickly approaching.

          “Fatimah…Fatimah!” he shouted. Nothing but silence followed. He attempted to gain manual control of the ship to no avail; the helm was not responding. The asteroid ballooned in size as it advanced toward them. The alarm was blaring so loudly he could hardly think or hear his own voice. Nonetheless, he shouted again.

          “Fatimah! Fatimah, answer me, you bitc—” Before he could finish his sentence, the alarm shut off, and the gigantic asteroid vanished from the viewport window. The silence was broken by a slow rumbling and sinister chuckle.

                “I bet you’re awake now.” Fatimah giggled.