He could not get out of the room. He was stuck. It was a nightmare. The quarters they had put him in were a small white, windowless room. There was no bed, nothing on the walls and just a blue plastic plant in one corner that scared him. He wanted to cry.
There was no bathroom and his bladder was busting. In desperation he went in the plant pot. To his horror the leaves of the plant grimaced and tried to bite him. He leapt back, preserving his pecker by inches.
Then the room spoke to him. “Do you need to use the bathroom?” the room said.
“Yes, yes I do,” he screamed. His bowels were filling rapidly.
“Then use the bathroom,” the room said. A wall slid open to reveal another bare white cube. “This is the bathroom,” the room said.
He walked in. There was no toilet, shower or sink. He lay down on the floor, curled into a ball and sobbed. What hellish world was this?
THE MACHINE-FUCKERS WERE RUNNING THE ASYLUM
Ensign Pulver IV was assigned to looking after the ‘Mike’ creature. At first prestigious, it swiftly became a thankless task.
Escorting the thing into the mess hall to feed and water him was an example of social interaction gone sideways. He could not swallow the protein pouches. The garlax juice dribbled out of his mouth. It was disgusting to watch. “What is this shit?” the beast complained.
He made lecherous advances to many of the other crewmembers, perhaps in a primitive show of mating. “We don’t do that here,” explained Pulver, attempting to draw the man-thing’s attention from Kylie Five Star’s breasts. “If you want to perform acts of masturbatory sexual affection we use holopods for that.”
“You mean you fuck machines?” he said, horrified. “I can’t do that. It’s wrong.”
There was a stunned silence in the hall. It was the worst thing to admit to. Technophobia was illegal in this day and age.
He couldn’t take it any longer. “I don’t want to live in this world,” he told his room. The room was his only friend, the only one who listened to him.
Everyone else hated him. They turned the other way in corridors and whispered behind his back. The machine-fuckers were running the asylum in this terrible crazy world.
“Then leave,” said the room.
Hove Press 