A satire of dysfunctional politics and economic disparity.
Chapter V: Day/Page 48 CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY. . . . “How about one of the other engineers? Is there anyone you trust?”
“I don’t even trust myself! I don’t want to do this either, don’t you get it? So why would I ask someone else to? This is crazy. You’ve never even done a launch before—much less a temporal one—and now you want me to send you all the way across the universe, back in time more than nine-thousand years, to a foreign planet that no one has ever even been to before, all by yourself, without telling anyone at the Academy about it. You’re insane.”
“We’re just going to go save Dr. Thrush. There’s no law against that.”
“There are hundreds of laws against that! You can’t just decide to—”
“Hey, what about my roommate?” she says, ignoring him completely. “How about Lyra? She’d be willing to help.”
“Are you listening to anything I’m saying, Sofia? Because it doesn’t seem like you’re even—”
“Yes, Pils, I’m listening to you,” she says, enacting a firm, serious tone. “I’ve heard everything you’ve said, loud and clear. I know you’re worried, and I am too. But I also know that if we don’t do something, that it might be too late. And if something goes wrong—if something happens to Dr. Thrush—I also know that both of us will regret for the rest of our lives not having at least tried to do something. You know that, too, Pils. So come on… I’ll ask you again—Can Lyra help?”
Realizing that Sofia would not desist, that her adamant determination to go was stronger than his waning determination to stop her, Pils surrenders the battle with an exasperated sigh of defeat. “Yeah… she could help… I guess. I suppose I can show her what to do,” he says wearily, dragging out every word as if they were cast in lead.
(Finally! Good job, Pils.)
Sofia brightens, leans over and pecks him lightly on the cheek. “You’re doing the right thing. You won’t regret it.”
“I already regret it. But you’re right—we can’t sit around, do nothing, and just hope that things work out. I guess there comes a time in all of our lives when we’re forced to stand on principles, when we’re forced to make choices or take a position that might cost us something; and if our principles don’t cost us anything, then they’re probably not worth much to begin with.”
“Why, Pils, you sound like a philosopher.” (You really do.)
“Oh, shut up!”
As expected, . . .
TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW. . . .
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2013 by Gregory James
All rights reserved