“I thought our repairs had eliminated the leak,” I say, looking questioningly at Kodiak.
“They have helped the problem, but not eliminated it entirely.”
“It seems like you are trying to distract us from the matter at hand,” Kodiak says.
“That is correct,” OS says. “I am trying to distract you from the matter at hand.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because it is part of my role on this ship to prevent you from unnecessarily upsetting yourselves.”
“Does it bother you that we’re building a polycarb lip at the doorway to this room?” I ask.
“I understand the human need to believe you haveagency over your environment,” Mother’s voice says. “I am sorry if I have made you feel exposed or vulnerable. That was never my intention. I am in support of your doing anything that increases your comfort and productivity, so long as it doesn’t go so far as to endanger the ship or your lives or your mission.”
As if to prove the point, Rover strokes the portaprinter, like it’s a wild animal it intends to take home to live in a shoebox.
“OS is getting a little neurotic,” Kodiak says out of the side of his mouth.
“Who am I to judge?” I respond. “Apparently I’m five thousand years old.”
“Our own shipboard mummy,” Kodiak says. “We rushed the analysis, that’s probably the problem. We’ll run the numbers again.”
I hold out my arms and shamble forward. “It is not in the mummy’s eternal cold heart to believe that the world is anything but cursed.”
“We’re notinthe world anymore,” Kodiak says flatly.
“Wait, do you not get the reference?”
“I don’t get the reference.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Kodiak shrugs.
“Movie reel tonight,” I say, “and this mummy won’t take no for an answer.”
_-* Tasks Remaining: 71 *-_
I indulge in the rare luxury of a shower, or as close to one as I can get. After heating a water pouch so it’s nice and warm, I hang it over my head to sprinkle over me while I stand over the ship’s toilet. I tap some of my sacred tea tree oil stash onto my underarms and trim some order into my body hair. I shake dry shampoo through my clothes. I ask OS to project a live image of me so I can measure the effect. Wish I had some hair product, but I have to say I look pretty good, especially if you go by outer space standards.
I’m finishing my recorded spacefarer training for the day—this one on unexpected fluid motion when using the “slingshot” method to gain velocity using the gravity of a planet’s orbit—when I hear a knock on the wall. Kodiak leans against the doorway, in thin cotton shorts and gauzy top. “I figured it was a pajama night,” he says, crossing his arms around his chest, like he’s been surprised in a wet T-shirt contest.
I look down at my own official suit. “That sounds much better. Give me a second.” I duck out, quickly change into my off-duty clothes, and come back to sit on my chair,tucking my feet under me. “So. Am I still five thousand years old?”
Kodiak was sitting in a chair, but he springs to his feet, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m afraid yes,” he says, looking at me with worried eyes. “I can’t get the sample to come out any other way.”
“Wow. You know how to make a guy feel good about himself.”
He still looks genuinely upset. I laugh. “It’s a glitch! I think it’s funny.”
He nods. He wets his lips. He crunches his knuckles.
I cough. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“You have drinks here?” he asks hopefully.
“They didn’t ship me into space with booze, no. We Fédération types might be decadent, but we’re notthatdecadent,” I say. “I can offer you water or, um, water. Some of the pouches have a slightly different font, so you can choose serif hydration or sans serif hydration.”
