Exploration

“You know, every time I come back into the room, you’re hitting that delete button. Are you getting any work done?” I ask, setting my mug of coffee on the end table.

“You asked me that last time you got up. Then you blew up the bathroom. You know there’s aerosol spray in there, right?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m not changing the subject. I’m trying to focus, but the room still smells, and you keep interrupting me with questions.” She says as she runs her finger through her locs.

I roll my eyes and go over to read what she’s written so far. She actually did get some writing in, but I wasn’t feeling it. She wasn’t capturing me, just an idea of me, and I’m right here to answer her questions… so long as she asks the right ones. I’m not going to come out and tell her what she needs to ask me because that’ll ruin the joy of discovery.

“The fact that you just huffed in my ear tells me that you don’t like it.”

“It wasn’t a huff. I just breathed… a little more forcefully.”

“A huff. Tell me what I got wrong so I can fix it.”

“You should know, you’re the author,” I say, sitting down to drink my coffee.

“But this is your story. You know it better than I do, and I’m counting on you to let me know when something needs to be changed.”

“Okay. So, start asking questions.”

“Alright,” she pauses, does that weird thing where she chews on the inside of her cheek, then continues. “We talked about your dreams and goals last time. What’s going through your mind when they’re being threatened?”

“Uh-uh. Classified.”

She glares at me, starts typing something, then looks up at me. As I sip my coffee, I feel a sense of sadness and anxiety well up in me. Tears start to stream down my face. My face crumples, and a thought enters my mind. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t stop crying.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice is soft and motherly.

“My iguana ran away because I didn’t give her treats for dinner.”

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Tell me more about that?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Y-you know I don’t have an iguana. I don’t even know what they eat! What are you writing over there? Change it!” I hiccup.

She pauses again, then I hear the familiar sound of the delete button undoing this strange turn of events. Soon, the feeling and thought subside, and I’m back to sipping coffee while wiping tears and snot from my face.

“Okay, Imani. Let’s talk about something less stressful. You’ve been invited to a fancy dinner and dance. What do you imagine yourself wearing? What are some descriptions that come to mind?”

“I’ve never really thought about it. I’m usually too busy traveling around the universe and trying to avoid getting shot at to think about a party.”

The Author pulls up a social media page on her phone and hands it to me, “Take a look at these and tell me what stands out to you.”

All of the people are wearing gowns that hug their curves and show off cleavage. They look nice, but I couldn’t help but wonder where I was supposed to keep my weapon and identification. How was I supposed to sit down or walk normally, let alone run? I scroll some more when I see a dress I like. The top portion has a halter neckline, no sleeves, and a full skirt that almost sweeps the ground. It would be so easy to hide my weapon and maybe sew in a couple of pockets. I could probably get away with wearing my boots. I would be able to walk and perhaps run if I tied the skirt around my legs a certain way.

“Put this one on me,” I point out.

A few moments later, I look down to see that my clothes have changed to match the gown in the photo. I walk over to the mirror and turn. I like how it fits, and I love that it was black with a sparkly top. I turn back around to see that the lower half of the top is gone. My belly is exposed, and I now have a belly button ring. Confused, I look up, and I notice that I now have facial piercings and a different hairstyle.

“Hey, I liked the way it was before.”

“Hold on, hold on. I just got a couple of ideas that I want try out.” She’s grinning and typing quickly.

“Why would you ask me what I like, then go and change it, like that? How would you feel if you were in my shoes? Speaking of… why am I in heels? I can’t run in these.”

“You’re not really supposed to. Just pretend that you’re someplace safe. No attacks.”

“No. You know what… can we be done for the day? I’m getting irritated.”

She sits back, nods, and agrees to put me back in my living quarters on my ship.

The next morning, I wake up feeling refreshed. The ship is functional, but it’s too quiet. My cat, Winnie, stays curled up in her spot next to my bed. When I walk around, I notice that there are no signs of anyone else, aside from Winnie and me, being here. The other living quarters are neat and untouched, as if everyone has taken their important belongings with them. I go to the helm to see that the ship is on autopilot.

“Hello?” I call out. No one responds. I open my communicator and send out a message asking where everyone went. No immediate responses. I go to make myself a cup of coffee to help me think when I notice a piece of paper next to my mug.

Imani, thank you for your presence last night. I now have some ideas I want to try out. Good luck.

The Author

I don’t know what she means by ‘ideas’ and ‘good luck’, but I assume she has something to do with the disappearance of my crew. I sit and sip, trying to figure out how I’m supposed to pilot this ship, pay attention to the engine room, take care of myself, clean up after the cat, and find my crew at the same time. I finish my coffee and go to wash it when there’s another note by the sink.

Now that you’ve finished your coffee and you’re more awake, I’ll let you know that your crew is safe. Think of this as a game of hide-and-seek.

The Author

“Alright, I know you can see and hear me. I don’t have time for children’s games. Tell me where to find my crew so I can get back to work. I have a contact expecting me to meet them in a couple of days.”

There’s no response, so I go search the entire ship. Every nook, cranny, crawl space, and room gets checked. No luck. I’m starting to wonder if I’m in a timeline where I travel solo first and then meet them, rather than me gathering them before I set off. That doesn’t make sense because I have no clue how to maintain the ships innerworkings. The onboard AI system and I should be able to navigate and pilot us to a station. As I walk through the halls, I pay attention to the hum of machinery and the echo of my footsteps against the metal. They sound… empty. I haven’t been awake for long, and already I miss the sounds of talking, laughter, metal clanging, and music playing through the sound system. I look all over the place, but the only thing I come across is a tablet with my name on it. I power it on, and I see that the only thing installed on it is ship schematics and how to fix and operate all parts of the ship.

“So, you won’t give me my crew… my friends back, but you’ll give me a manual showing me how to operate this thing on my own. It’s as if you don’t want me to win.”

A gust of air comes from above me, and a small piece of paper floats to the floor. Where is this paper coming from? I know it’s something that was used in abundance on Earth, but on my Earth colony, it was something that some of our old artifacts were made out of, and we couldn’t do anything except look at them.

“Not true. If you prefer, I can take the manual away…”

“No, no. I’ll keep it.”

I look through the manual carefully, and I notice that the language is written in a way that seems as if my engineer had written it specifically for me. I don’t have to decipher any gobbledygook, but I do need patience. In fact, I know I’m going to need patience with this whole adventure. Too bad, I was lacking in it in general. Wait a minute, since when do I think about using the term “gobbledygook” in my everyday speech?

“Gobbledygook. HA! Isn’t that such a great word?” A note appeared in the bottom corner of the manual.

“Um, sure? Hey, how many more changes are you going to make?” I flip to the next page.

“You should get going.”

“Why? You just said that my crew is safe, so I have a little extra time to figure out where they could’ve gone and prioritize what needs to be done first.”

As soon as the words left my mouth, the whole ship shook, knocking me to the floor. The alarm to let me know when anyone or anything is getting too close to the ship blares in my ears. A mix of fear and anger floods through my veins as I race to the helm.

“What’s going on?” I ask the computer.

“We’re being fired upon, Captain Knight.”

“By whom?”

“Uncertain. Ship signature is unknown, and they’re not responding to any messages.”

Before I can come up with another question, the ship is hit again.

“We need to get out of this airspace. We’ve probably drifted into someone’s territory.”

*BANG*

Something sounded as if it exploded in the engine room, but I don’t have time to check it out now. I set a path to the nearest station. Neutral ground. The machine roars and shakes as we speed away.

While the ship is on its way to safety, I go back to the engine room to see what exploded. After consulting the manual and looking around, I still can’t determine what happened, and I’m getting anxious that the same thing will happen again. My frustration grows to the point where nothing in the manual makes sense. I really want to throw or hit something right now. A message appears on my communicator. Hope stirs from deep within me. Hope that my crew had responded.

“Take a break and go to the kitchen.”

It was the Author again. I roll my eyes and shout, “I don’t have time for a break. My engine is broken, and I can’t determine how or why. I just got shot at by Spirit knows who. My people are MIA, and it’s all of your fault!”

I sound like a petulant child, but I don’t care. I also don’t know who or what ‘Spirit’ is, but I’m guessing the reason why I said it is because the Author is making more changes.

“Fine then. Go to the kitchen anyway.”

I march to the kitchen, cussing under my breath the entire way, to find photographs spread across the table. They weren’t there when I was last in here. They are photos are of my crew. Each one showed one person in a place where they were happy and smiling. No one was together, and the background in each one told me that they were most likely taken in different places. I didn’t know where any of those places were.

Seeing my crew, my friends, looking happy and relaxed made me a little sad. The last time we were together, I went off on them. I don’t remember what about, so it must not have been really important. For the past few weeks, we had a lot of jobs lined up, and all of them went poorly or were canceled at the last minute. We were low on funds, low on supplies, and we hadn’t had a break in forever. I was the leader, the captain, and for the past few weeks, I had done a shitty job. These photos must have been clues from the Author for where I needed to go to get them all back.

I gather all of the photos and take them to the computer to let the AI program scan them and give me potential locations. The computer makes quick work and tells me that all of the photos were taken on the same planet, one known for being a vacation world, but in different locations. Winnie was now awake and rubbing her body against my legs.

“Alright, little one. I’m going to go get our friends back.” I enter the coordinates for the planet, and our course changes.

A few hours have passed, and I finally have everyone gathered in one place. According to them, I dropped them all off here a couple of days ago for vacation. I don’t appreciate the Author messing with my head and my reality like this, but I started to understand the point she’s making. I’m not going to admit this until I convince everyone to come back, though. For all I know, they could all be holograms and on a completely different planet. They’re all irritated that I interrupted their vacations.

“First things, first. I apologize for going off on you all the last time we saw each other. I was angry, and I didn’t manage it well. You all didn’t deserve the backlash, and I should’ve given you all a break a long time ago.”

I go into detail about what happened to me, and instead of understanding, they all look at me like I'm crazy. I pull out the pieces of paper and show them. They can tell it’s not my handwriting, but they’re still not convinced of my story. If anything, I can tell that they’re more intrigued by the material than they are the messages.

“So, will you all come back?” I ask, hopefully.

“We forgive you, but we’re not coming back until we feel that our vacation time is over,” one person says.

“Understood. Can I at least join you?”

“Respectfully, no. We all need space from each other. But you can take your own vacation, Captain. After all that you say that you went through, it sounds like you need it,” my engineer adds.

The journey back to my ship was quiet. I don’t go out of my way to engage with others around me. When they do try to start a conversation, and I don’t say much, they stop trying. Once again, I feel like I failed, but after thinking about how I would feel if I were in their shoes, I realized that I couldn’t blame them.

“Captain Knight,” a familiar voice comes from the seat behind me. I turn and see that it’s the Author.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?”

“You,” I realize that I’m speaking too loudly, so I lower my voice to just above a whisper. “Started this mess. I protested, and you didn’t listen. You could’ve just placed me back in the scene you were working with before you turned me into your little experiment.”

“But we learned something out of all of this?”

“Who’s we? Don’t you mean you? I knew everything I needed to know already,” I hiss.

“Yes, we. I learned that you’re more of a hothead than I anticipated, and you learned that you can’t step into a situation with guns blazing, then try to patch things up with an apology.”

My cheeks feel warm, and I don’t say anything because she’s right. Even when I was talking with my friends, I felt as if what I was saying just wasn’t good enough. She gives a little smile that I swear looks more like a smirk, and I can’t help but clench my jaw. Still, she put me here because she was experimenting. All of this wasn’t completely my fault.

“Now what?” I ask.

“Turn around.”

I narrow my eyes but do as she says. In an instant, I’m back in the Author’s office, and she’s sitting at her computer.

“Back to the writing board.”