“I’m probably just backup in case shit goes south.”
Back during training I always joked about how fun it would to get lost in space. You know, hurtling through the cosmos without a care. What I wouldn’t give to be lost so I wouldn’t have to deal with all of this boring bullshit. I guess getting delegated to shit duty is what I get for being a smart ass and telling everyone I was the best repairman out of the whole damn crew. Well, that’s at least what I told everyone back on Earth. Nobody on the ship ever believed that.
When the shit really hits the fan. who are you going to call? Probably any of the numerous people who are way more qualified than me—at just about everything that goes on in the station.
Ah, Good old Gray Hawk station—the most luxurious space liner in the whole Astro Fleet—don’t ask me why it’s named Gray Hawk. It’s not gray nor is it shaped like a hawk.
Everyone back home thinks I’m some big shot because I work here. But truthfully, I’m just a maintenance man, AKA a shit cleaning space janitor. I can’t really say It’s the most glorious job on the ship, but it does give me plenty of down time.
A lot of the equipment performs self repairs and the ship has a horde of cleaning bots. I’m not really sure what they need me for; I’m probably just backup in case shit goes south. But at least the job pays well.
Most of my time is spent just wandering around the massive corridors. I have a couple of hiding spots where I do a fair amount of reading. I’m currently working my way through the literary classics of Stephen King. And if I’m not doing that, I’m daydreaming about fighting off the killer horde of cleaning bots that are sure to go rogue at some point.
Another good part of this job is that I don’t have to deal with people too often. One would think in the age of accessible space travel people wouldn’t be so stupid. But it’s like the more mankind accomplishes, the more idiotic the average person gets. What do I know, though, I’m just a janitor who’ll be out of a job once they realize how obsolete my position is.
Until then, I’m going to milk this crap job for what it’s worth. I’ve been thinking that after a couple more runs through the cruise route. I should have enough saved up to get my own place on Mars. Someplace nice and quiet and out-of-the-way from other people; sounds like heaven to me. Too bad it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon. The housing market on Mars has gotten ridiculous since the south quadrant got gentrified.
In the meantime, I’m just going to keep on doing what I’m doing. I’m gonna pretend I’m actually working around here to keep management off my back—which is what I do everyday. To be honest, I’ve thought someone would’ve said something to me by now. Then again, if it wasn’t for my weekly paycheck, I don’t think they’d even know I was on the ship.
Shit, it’s almost time to start the next shift. I’m going to punch in and find a corner to go take a nap in. Wake me if the cleaning bots start blowing shit up.
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