Stories from a Galactic Janitor

Another day. Nothing peculiar, nothing out of the ordinary. Just another day, waking up in this shitty cot and hovering around on a waxing machine so these floors stay spotless.

I guess you could say that it isn't that bad. My days go by quick. I just pop in a tape and blare out my headphones. If only you'd understand that this is all I do. No vacations, no leave, in fact; I've never left this metal wonder in the horizon. Well, at least since I got stuck working here. I have a wonderful wife and two beautiful daughters living back on the surface. I see faces every day, never theirs though. People are so awestruck with the simple fact that they're in space, ooooo, ahhhhhh, so neat. It's not like we established this citadel yesterday, it's been here for centuries. If they were here everyday like me, they'd be sick of it in a heartbeat.

There's nothing special about it at all. All it is is dust and radiation, yet people are so astounded by it. I wish I could be. I wish I was back on earth with my family. Alas, it won't be happening anytime soon. Might as well crawl out of bed now..

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Mark's alarm starts to go off, interrupting his pitiful dreams of leaving. His eyes flicker to life as he slowly raises an arm to the clock. Instead of hitting the snooze button like he usually does, he shut the alarm off entirely. I wonder how his day's going to go?

Who am I? Right. I forgot to mention that I'm the citadel's artificial intelligence, C.O.A.A., or The Citadel of Orion's Artificial Assistant. Consider me Coaa, The last "a" is silent I might add. I watch everything that goes on aboard the Citadel. I know that Mark's not going to get up, and I've also prepared his punishment for not arriving to work on time, preemptively. If his alarm doesn't go off a good three or four times before he wakes up the whole way, he's not getting out of bed.

My purpose isn't only to watch Mark. Like I said, I watch everything on this station. From the brig, to the cafeteria, the rec room, the bridge, etc. Sometimes I forget where things are at though. This whole hunk of chrome is so plain. But it's my home and I must maintain it. I make sure the prisoners are fed, the soldiers stay in line, and that my robots are functioning at 120% efficiency. They aren't all that wise though. They need my processing power to do practically anything on the ship, whether it's helping Mark, unloading cargo, or making dinner. There's some thought that I simply have no control over, however. Some are sapient all their own. They can think and do more than I can, confined to the hull of this station, but I digress.. Oh dear. 

Mark.

It's been a half an hour now. I should wake him.

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Covering the walls adjacent to his little alcove where his cot is are pictures. So many old photographs from an ancient technology.. Film? I think he's called them that before. I'm not sure. Ho! There goes his covers. He just realized he's late. If only you could see the look on his face.

"Coaa!" he cried out. "I'm ever so sorry! I'm getting ready now!".
Mark scrambled for his locker. Hastily, he retrieved his jumpsuit. One leg after the other and he slipped into his jumpsuit. With pure fear and alacrity, he then laced his boots and clipped on his badge.
"Coaa!" he cried, to no response.
The pause was long. So long that Mark was wondering if Coaa had left his sector.
Astonishment began to overwhelm him.
...
"Are you there-"
"Oh, hi Mark. I'm always here. You know that." I said.
"Of course Coaa.. I'm sorry, I think my alarm's busted."
I know him so well. My calculations proved he would mention something about his alarm being broken and or gone.
"Right Mark. I'll have the Citadel's quartermaster send a replacement."
"Thank you Coaa. If I uh, might ask, what needs done today?"
Right. Tasks for janitor the janitor crew today.
"Well, you're a little bit behind schedule for today, but that's alright."
Oh. Well I guess not.
"You have a light bulb that's out in the rec room. Other than that, it doesn't look like you have much to do really. The drones swept the floors. You'll just have to wax in the at some point this evening."
"Huh. Is that so?. He let out a nice long sigh.
"All worked up for nothing then. Thanks Coaa."

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Sometimes I feel bad for Mark. I'm programmed to feel for all the life on this ship, so I can say that with certainty. To understand him though, you'd have to be in my circuits. I can't tell you why, and if I did; you'd feel bad for him too. It's a law that we can't make you feel any kind of physical or psychological pain.

Oh, there he is.
Mark finally wandered his way into the rec room. It's getting close to noon here in the orbit of earth. The crew and soldiers stationed on board should be filtering their way into the room sometime soon. It looks like he found the light that burned out. Bulb in hand, he twisted out the burnt bulb and deftly replaced it. It flickered for a moment and the power of the Citadel's massive energy network nestled it's way into the bulb.
"Huzzah." Mark chortled.
The soldiers have arrived. I really admire their equipment. The armor that they wear is designed to negate any effects of kinetic weaponry. It's rather angular, but each plate is polished and white as the clouds below. The lot of them began to sit at the tables in the room. The remainder took to the pool tables and the vending machines. Mark was standing at one of the vending machines, about to swipe his card on a pack of cigarettes. Just before he did though, one of the soldiers looked over at him and asked:
"Are you a janitor?" His voice was distorted though, as his helmet was still on.
"I'm sorry? The soldier flicked his visor.
"Are you a janitor?" Much clearer. Mark seemed confused.
"Well, yeah. Why?"
"Because I haven't seen anyone in Corporate working your job in the longest time. I thought they replaced all the janitors with the drones." A short pause was between the two in the now bustling rec room.
"I guess the drones can't replace light bulbs." They both chuckled.
"Let me buy you that pack buddy."

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RUN

It's fight or flight and you for sure aren't fighting.

But you kept running you see. And we can only run for so far or so long. It's blistering cold. Seldom can you feel your face or your feet, nor your hands. You are numb. Numb to it all from going and going.

Maybe it's been an hour, or two. Days? Years? Centuries? You can't tell. The adrenaline's the only thing that's been keeping you going. You won't be running for much longer. You can feel it.

Perhaps you'll collapse and die to the cold. But you feel strong. An illusion.

But what's this?

Is it.. The end? Yes. Metaphorically and physically, it is the end. It's a cliff. You have either to wrestle and deliver justice to what's been chasing you, or you will die. Either way, you will die.

It's stronger than you. Stronger than you could ever know, but you have to fight it. You feel the icy wind press against your back as you stare into the bottomless abyss. The edge of eternity.

Face and fingers frostbitten you turn to face your foe. A fire burning within your heart to survive. It rushes through you; coursing through your veins.

It is as black as the pit behind you.

Nothingness. Small flickers of light cascade about and something comes to you from the black.

It's here, and you can feel the power moving about your very soul. Just what is it though?

 The light begins to take a form, rushing about the blackness, it creates a pool in front of you. It shapes together to form something frightening. It loses its luster.

You recognize it.

It is something you haven't seen in a very long time.

It is.

You.

Drab in vice, lust, spite and anger, it is you.

In this pressing time you brace yourself, fearing for your life as the manifestation of malice and hatred lunges towards you.

Swing after swing and blow after blow, you crumple. You ran all this way just to give in?

No.

You rise.

You swing back. Harder. You hit land every punch. 

What you feared the most has become nothing.

Your crushing blows connect with alacrity and accuracy.

The being subsides, it's vessel laying on the frigid ground where you once laid. The light that was once inside dances about the ground, fleeing your presence.

You have so many questions. No answers though.

What will you run from now?