Another day on the moon, another wasted work cycle. Lunar 1 was the first spaceport we built on the bright side of the moon, and it blossomed into a tightly stacked neon city, like a dusty attic that goes on for miles, with ten million people living in it. Air and water are tightly rationed, and work is hard.
I threw my hard hat into my locker with a bang. The oily rags they called our uniforms were next to go. My civvies were the same style of jump suit, though marginally cleaner. It didn't matter much, as they didn't have showers for the dock workers. I shrugged into it quicly, not wanting to lose any time. I swiped my hand on the punch clock on my way out, to redeem my daily credits for the last 18 hours. Just enough for what I needed.
A walk through the bright city streets did little to improve my mood. It was always sunny on the bright side of the moon, and the obligatory corp stims made sure that this truly was the city that never sleeps. Hoverbots whooshed above, carrying parcels and information to the bigshots of one corp or another. If you dared to expose your eyes to the unfiltered sunlight that made it through the city dome, you could make out earth with its luscious seas and natural night-cycle. Earthers were born with the right to dream, and spaceous lands to do it in. Our streets were filled with people with deadpan eyes, just like my own, thumping the sharply lit pavement with identical workboots.
I headed around the corner and into my regular capsule hotel. I swiped my hand on the worn-out food dispenser, waiting for it to register my credit. I used half of it on a vanilla flavored soy bar, and the other half on a hypno-sedative. The damn thing sure isn't healthy, but it's the only thing that can suppress the uppers still in my system.
I swallowed the soy bar whole, jumped in my coffin and sticked the hypno-sedative to my temple. A quick glance revealed I have 4 hours before the programmed wake up to my next shift.
And then the darkness consumed me, just as it always does.Back to stories