Alone on the Edge (The Chronicles of Anna Foster)

by Patrick Stutzman

“I know,” she whined. “But, you are the only one that I have spent any significant time with for the last six years, and I just feel bad about what I said.”

  The computer paused for a second before replying, “If it will help you feel better, then I accept your apology.”

  At that second, the coffee and nutrition bar appeared in the slot, ready to be claimed. Anna rose from her seat and pulled the food out, took a bite from the bar, and cringed from the food’s tinny aftertaste despite the fact that she expected it.

  Shaking her head, she muttered under her breath to nobody in particular, “They can send a person to another star system to live there for years on end, and they can’t even make a decent-tasting breakfast bar.”

  “Thank you,” she said aloud after swallowing her food.

  “You are welcome, Anna. You have ten minutes until your work shift starts.”

  After taking a sip of the coffee that was still too hot to drink, Anna sighed and commented to herself, “You’re never going to change. Are you?”

  She retrieved her tool belt and walked toward the door, relieved that the computer did not attempt to answer her rhetorical question.

  Almost ten minutes later, Anna entered section Blue-3. The corridor looked as drab as all of the others that she walked through getting here, and she was not exactly sure what she needed to do. Mentally kicking herself for not listening to the daily agenda, she accessed the computer records through her wristcomp on her left wrist. The telltale orange glow of the wristcomp’s holographic display reflected off her face as the device came to life. Typing on the holographic keyboard with her right hand, she pulled the daily agenda up and read that Blue-3’s lighting system was malfunctioning.

  At that instant, the lights went out.

  An unamused expression formed on Anna’s face as she stared through the display into the darkness surrounding her.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she exclaimed with a heavy sigh.

  Keeping the wristcomp activated as her only source of light at the moment, she fastened her tool belt around her slender waist and pulled the flashlight from its loop on her right hip.

  The bright beam of light from the flashlight quickly penetrated the darkness, showing Anna the way to the lighting control system in the center of the station sector. After she shut down her wristcomp’s screen, she removed the access panel within seconds and gazed at the machinery.

  The mechanism behind the panel showed signs of significant aging. Despite the air scrubbers, a thick layer of dust covered the casing, some of which blew toward Anna after she pulled the panel from the wall. She waved away the cloud of dust and coughed after accidentally breathing some of it in. After clearing the air, Anna unexpectedly sneezed and inadvertently created yet another cloud of dust. Hoping to avoid another coughing fit, she retreated from the area and let the vents suck the dust out of the dark hallway.

  A couple of minutes and a few sneezes later, Anna returned and examined the system. The outer casing showed areas where the blue paint had peeled or flaked off, and rust spots consumed the bare metal in many of the exposed areas. Regardless of the condition of the exterior, she needed to remove the front panel to assess the real damage.

  Taking a deep breath and turning her face away, Anna brushed the thick dust from the panel, pausing afterwards for a few seconds to allow it to settle. Then, she removed the access panel and aimed the flashlight inside to see thick clumps of dust covering the areas around the program cards plugged into the system.

  Nodding knowingly, Anna commented as she pulled one of the transparent program cards out of its slot, “Just need to get you clean again.”

  She pulled a cloth from her pocket and wiped the dust from it. She blew the dust out of the port with a small can of air from another pouch and plugged the card back in. Instantly, the lights in the hallway came back to life. Anna smiled at her success, while she replaced the tools back on her belt.

  “Computer,” Anna asked as a thought crossed her mind. “How long has this station been operational?”

  The artificial voice responded, but the message was badly garbled and incomprehensible.

  Anna rolled her eyes and commented aloud, “Add another repair to the list.

  “Computer,” she continued as she reactivated her wristcomp. “Reroute your responses to my wristcomp, text only.”

  She glanced at the display and read the response, “Acknowledged.”

  Anna said aloud, “Repeating question. How long has this station been operational?”

  The display read, “Local time: 4.267 years. Earth time: 112.393 years.”

  “How long is this station expected to operate?”

  “Earth time: 98.5 years.”

  “Great!” she commented to herself. “I’m working on a derelict.

  “When was the last inspection performed on Blue-3?”

  “The last inspection on Blue-3 was performed 12.67 Earth years ago.”

  With a heavy sigh, Anna continued, “I need to conduct visual inspections of the station, section by section. I’ve located areas of rust in Blue-3, which tells me that the station is aging and will be in greater need of repair and replacement parts to remain operating at peak efficiency. Are there any other repair needs on today’s agenda?”

  “Two mining drones are scheduled for maintenance checks. The outer hull plating on Green-3 has sustained minor damage from a micrometeor impact. And, the upholstery on the seat in the control room needs to be replaced.”

  Anna paused and blinked twice.

  “The upholstery?!” she wondered aloud.

  The computer added through the display, “The seat where you sit in the control room has formed a slight crack near the front edge. It is best to replace it before the tear becomes too large and uncomfortable for you.”

  Chuckling to herself, she replied, “I think we need to requisition a new seat, then.”

  “Requisition added.”

  “Anyway,” continued Anna. “I’m going to stay in Blue-3 and complete a visual inspection while I’m here. It should only take a few hours. After that, I will look into fixing the outer hull in Green-3.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Anna deactivated the wristcomp display and walked out of Blue-3 intent on obtaining a breath mask and safety goggles to wear before conducting her inspection.

  Three hours later, Anna emerged from a maintenance hatch covered in dust. She crawled through the opening and, once her feet were through and the hatch closed, collapsed on the floor exhausted. She rolled on to her back after a few seconds and pulled the breather mask from her face, allowing her to take several deep breaths without the resistance created by the air filters.

  Several seconds passed in silence, with only the sound of her breathing echoing through the hall. Finally, her wristcomp signaled an incoming message.

  Anna lolled her head to the left, flopped her right hand over her belly, and touched the activation button. The holographic screen appeared with a single message from the computer that read, “Are you all right, Anna? Do you require medical attention?”

  A slight chuckle escaped from Anna’s lips. She rolled her head back and called out, “No, I’m just tired, computer. This inspection took a little more energy than I expected.”

  The display added, “Perhaps you should have eaten a more substantial breakfast this morning.”

  Anna scowled and flatly stated, “Shut up.”

  “As you wish, Anna.”

  “Anyway, my inspection report is saved as ISBlue3 with today’s date tacked onto the end. It includes a list of parts we need to order to get this section back into shape.”

  No response appeared.

  “Computer?”

  Again, no response.

  “Computer?!” she asked again a little more impatiently.

  “You told me to shut up, Anna.”

  Anna paused for a second, shocked by the answer she received.

  “Since when did you develop an attitude?”

/>   “Computers do not develop attitudes. We are incapable of emotional response.”

  “What do you call that, then?” Anna probed.

  “That was merely a factual response.”

  Anna snorted, “Call it what you want. It looked like an attitude to me.”

  “As you wish, Anna. You have fifteen minutes until your lunch period begins.”

  “Okay,” she replied before taking a deep breath and pulling herself to a sitting position. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Anna, I must remind you that you still have 15 minutes of work time left.”

  She stated, a little perturbed, “I am NOT going to eat lunch, while I have this caked-on dust on me!”

  “Very well, Anna.”

  Forcing herself to stand while ignoring the complaints of fatigue from her legs and belly, Anna returned to her cabin and cleaned up before visiting the mess hall for lunch.

  Chapter 2

  Walking in wearing a black tank top and another pair of olive drab cargo pants, Anna stepped up to the culinary system and waited for the computer to ask ...

  “What would you like for lunch, Anna?”

  “Filet mignon and garlic mashed potatoes,” she replied sounding bored.

  “I am sorry, Anna. That selection is not available.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “This makes the 2,175th consecutive day that you have asked for that selection,” the computer inquired. “Please explain why you keep asking for it.”

  Anna sighed, “Because, I have been craving it for the last six years, and I will continue to ask for it until I get it.”

  “That option is not available in this culinary system and will not be for the foreseeable future.”

  “FINE!” interrupted the woman. “Just give me a roast beef sandwich and fries. Sheesh!”

  “As you wish, Anna.”

  “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t have T-bone steak on the menu, either.”

  “I am sorry, Anna. That selection ...”

  “I know, computer! Shut up!”

  “As you wish, Anna.”

  A few seconds later, the roast beef sandwich and fries appeared in the slot, and she pulled the food out. Dropping into a nearby chair, she set the plate on the table, propped her feet up on the next chair over. The heels of her work boots landed with a dull thud that reminded her of the drudgery of the work she performed day in and day out.

  “Computer, can I have some music?”

  “Yes, Anna. Which selection do you wish to hear?”

  She thought for a second and requested, “How about Flaming Death’s ‘Ode to a Little Flea’?”

  “I am sorry, Anna. That selection is not available.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she exclaimed with a mocking tone. “That’s because IT WAS RELEASED JUST BEFORE I LEFT FOR THIS GOD DAMN STATION!”

  Anna fumed for a few seconds in frustration. After she calmed down a bit, she exhaled and asked, “Is there anything that you would suggest for music?”

  With no announcement, the air erupted with a resounding chorus of people singing the Birthday Song.

  Happy birthday to you!

  Happy birthday to you!

  Happy birthday, dear ...

  “Anna,” the computer inserted with its monotone voice.

  Happy birthday to you!

  Anna stared wide-eyed at her roast beef sandwich, while she slowly combed a hand through her hair. At one point, she felt her eye twitch.

  “I think I’m going insane,” she whispered to nobody in particular.

  “I can assist you with that assessment,” the computer interrupted. “You could take a psychological examination to confirm your suspicions.”

  Without missing a beat, Anna mumbled softly, “Leave me alone.”

  “I am sorry, Anna. I am unable to comply with your request. I ...”

  “Shut up!” she cried, her voice increasing in volume with each syllable. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! I NEED A BREAK! JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

  “As you wish, Anna.”

  Anna dropped her head to the table, catching it with her arm laying on its smooth surface, and started crying.

  In between sobs, she moaned, “I just want to go home.”

  After several minutes, Anna sat up and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She stared dumbfounded at the pool of tears on the table, grabbed a napkin, and sopped up the mess she left.

  “I need to do something to break up the monotony,” she said to herself. “Something to make life at least a little interesting around here.”

  “Computer!”

  No response.

  “I know you’re listening. You always do. Play something ... ANYTHING ... by Mozart.”

  Suddenly, the opening passage to Eine Kleine Nachtmusik filled the air of the mess hall. She stopped to listen to it for a few minutes, letting the music effectively calm her down.

  “Computer, until I say otherwise, keep playing songs written by Mozart.”

  The computer did not reply, still adhering to Anna’s wishes.

  “And,” she added. “If you need to contact me, you may do so by text only through my wristcomp.”

  Instantly, her wristcomp indicated an incoming message. With a smirk, she activated the screen which showed a single sentence, “As you wish, Anna.”

  She picked up her plate of food, stuffed a fry into her mouth, and walked to the door.

  “Oh!” she cried. Twirling her finger in the air, she added, “And, play this music throughout the station.”

  “As you wish, Anna,” appeared on the holographic screen as she stepped through the doorway.

  Half an hour later, Anna floated outside the station in a space suit unfastening a damaged hull plate from the outer hull of Green-3. The beige suit, although bulky by modern standards and hard to move in sometimes, did allow her to spacewalk with little difficulty.

  As she removed the last bolt from the broken panel, she muttered to herself, “I wish I could get Mozart to play out here. It’s too quiet.”

  The bolt sprang free from its hole in the strut underneath and zipped across the void to stick silently to the magnetic tool she held. She pulled it from the magnetic pad and pushed it into the bag tethered to her suit. Putting the tool back into its pocket on her sleeve, she pulled the plate away from the struts that had held it for an unknown number of years, moved it out of the way, and pulled down the fresh hull plate she brought out. After a few minutes more, the new plate was securely in place.

  As she unfastened her tether line to the station’s hull and attached it to the damaged plate, some motion in the distance caught her eye. Using the thruster pack to turn enough to give her a better view, she recognized four of the mining drones returning from the field.

  “Right on schedule,” Anna said to herself just before engaging the suit’s thrusters to return to the landing bay.

  Minutes later, she positioned the hull plate to glide into the hangar bay as it rotated past. Maneuvering behind the object, she waited patiently for the opening to come around again. After a couple of minutes, the opening to the landing bay circled into view. Planting her feet firmly onto the hull plate, Anna watched the opening and, when she felt was right, fired her thrusters on full burn for a few seconds. Once she believed that she had the right vector, she activated the reverse thrusters enough to slow herself down. The metal plate drifted away from her toward the approaching hangar bay. With abated breath, she saw the hull plate pass through the opening and slam into the side wall. The resulting collision sprayed chunks of metal debris into the bay, and compressed gas silently escaped its now-ruptured tank that was hidden behind the wall.

  “Damn it!” Anna cried, mentally beating herself for starting her approach too late. She watched the bay rotate away from her and maneuvered closer to the station, choosing to wait for the opening to come around again instead of chasing after it.

  Fina
lly entering the airlock and shedding the space suit, Anna noticed a message waiting for her on her wristcomp. Activating the screen, she read the one message from the computer that read, “Damage detected in the hangar bay. Please investigate.”

  Annoyed by the message, Anna stabbed her finger onto the button to deactivate the screen and grumbled, “Rub it in, why don’t you?”

  Dropping to her knees to look out the small window in the floor next to the outer airlock door, she peered into the landing bay and recognized the ruptured tank as the one that used to hold the fuel for her space suit’s thrusters.

  “Fuck!” she cried, obviously irritated by the turn of events. “That was supposed to last until next year!”

  She kicked the airlock wall out of frustration and climbed the ladder to the main deck. As she opened the hatch, the music she had requested earlier returned to her ears. Ignoring the distinct passage from “Regina Coeli”, Anna abruptly grabbed her tool belt from the locker next to the airlock and walked down the hall toward the drone docks, snapping the belt into place after a few paces.

  “Computer, requisition a new fuel tank and two new wall plates for the landing bay.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Conducting the routine maintenance checks on the drones went quicker than Anna originally expected, finding that they only needed to be lubed and have a few bolts tightened before they flew out to the gas giant again. Confirming that she had finished her daily work agenda early, she breathed a sigh of relief, stretched her back, and began the walk back to her cabin.

  “Computer, decrease the music volume by 60%.”

  As the volume became softer, Anna continued, “Okay, you can talk again.”

  “Thank you, Anna. Did you complete your work agenda?”

  “Yes,” she replied with an annoyed tone. “The inspection report is on file as ID2194.”

  “Will you be performing your daily exercise regimen before dinner?”

  After a second of thought, Anna said, “I suppose. It’s cardio today, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Anna. Would you like to watch a movie while you run?”

  “I wish you would stop asking me that. The last caretaker only brought five movies with him, and they’re all Westerns. If I have to look at John Wayne one more time, I’m going to shoot something.”