Tag Archives: Free Writing

Meaning

I wonder what it’s like when people remember you. When you aren’t forgotten and nameless. Like this poor child in front of me. Gone before her time should have been up.

The coroner says she died from exposure. That no one cared enough to bring her in from the cold or feed her, not even the other transients out there. And unless someone comes forward she won’t even have a name. Just Jane Doe #3263827.

The only thing I take comfort in is that she probably went quietly. Went to sleep one night and woke up in a better place. Thankfully she doesn’t seem to have been sexually assaulted. Not that anyone in special vics would care about her.

I do what I can for her dignity. To try and ensure that maybe one day someone will give her the real name she deserves. I don’t hold out hope though.

She’s one of a countless pile of forgotten. I look at what to me is a damning sin against my existence. I should at least be able to ensure all these people have something to be remembered by. Even if it’s a true name and not some number for cross-referenceing.

Mayne one day.

Just a Little Bit Further

“All passengers for Transport ‘Odysseus‘ please depart through customs at Station Airlock 3. Any passengers requiring special atmospheric adjustments should declare such to customs officials.”

He was nothing much. Just your average human male, nothing fancy. His hair was slightly receding and had started showing grey at the temples. His cheeks sagged with the stress of a long life as little more than an office drone. If you asked him, he probably couldn’t tell you why he was here. 

He had no wife, no children. Any other family had long since died or forgotten about him. He was no one special. But he had been saving most of his pay for almost thirty years. And when you have nothing to spend it on, it builds up. So there was no issue with resources at the moment.

Thing was, he had just decided one day to quit his job. It hadn’t been any extreme explosion or mental break. He went in, and calmly gave his two weeks notice. Then spent the next few weeks putting his affairs into order. He paid off his lease, sold everything he owned that didn’t hold a sentimental value, and purchased a ticket from the Houston Astrodome to Aldrin Station.

After taking pictures of Earth through the Dome with his personal data terminal and enjoying some of the local cuisine, he purchased a ticket to Syria Planum on Mars. He took more pictures of the red sands, took a transport to Cydonia and gazed upon the pyramid mountains. 

And it continued, from the Titan Subglacial Ocean Colony to the Transfer Point off Io. Once he had reached Pluto he purchased transport to the first Terran Intersteller Colony, The Centari System. Alpha, Beta, and Proxima.

After taking his pictures and experiencing what could be found he would purchase a ticket and proceed further on. Just a little bit further away from Home. From Centauri to the systems beyond. Always just a little bit further. 

Which is how he had gotten here, to Antlantia Station. A place built by the United Nations meant as a meeting place for all the species Earth had made contact with so far. Diplomatic, Economic, and Cultural exchanges between hundreds of thousands of people from every world known.

Once he had cleared customs, he walked through the arrival area and took a tram to the central portion of the station. He took a moment to purchase a human safe treat from a vendor and enjoyed it as the tram took him to where everything public occurred. He watched street performers and artists selling their wares. He saw crystals glowing with an inner light from within them.

He took pictures, he ate a good meal, he listened to the philosophers standing in front of the multitude of temples dedicated to the Gods of a hundred worlds.

And after a few days he went to the out bound transport terminal, and purchased a ticket to another planet. One of the Non-Human worlds safe for Humans to visit.

Just a little bit further. 

A Normal Night

Ever since the internet became a thing, people have been trying to use it to make a quick buck. Some times it worked out. Some times it didn’t.

But the word was spoken, “Monitization.”

It started with just blogs. LIttle quick snippets of text talking about some part of a persons life or sharing a quick story. Then it evolved into video, images, social media, shopping, manual labor. Everything could be monitized.

Somethings didn’t need the internet for this, but it sure made it easier.

So here I am, sitting in my car trying to make a quick buck for something or another while this barely clothed, barely legal to get into a club girl and her new boyfriend are getting hot and heavy in my back seat. It’s not even going to be worth the amount of time it takes to drive them to their next hang out, let alone all the perfume and booze in the air.

But I need just a little bit extra to make it through the month, and they wanted to go dance and drink at another spot somewhere in the middle of downtown.

And after they get out another person is going to want a drive, and another, and another. I just hope no one is so drunk they puke in here.