YC 119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest entry for the 8000 Suns category (this one is a Very Short Fiction (750 words or less) competitor as well). Hope you enjoy, space friends!
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Sunday Morning
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Rays of sunlight claw against the hull of the space station. Try as they might, they just can’t reach that sweet spot - the polyglas bubble which separates a lush and vibrant open space from the shapeless ether outside. The angular placement of the station prevents the rays from doing so. Much to the bane of the sun, of course. The blue-sequence star deserves to have all bask in its glory. It is not as peaceful as a yellow star. Not even as pretty as a pink one. But still, it deserved that much, however the station builders ensured that would not happen. Especially since they built it orbiting a planet a mere 0.8 AU away. Far too close
not to have the dome facing away. This displeased the proud star, of course, but hopefully one day those beneath the polyglas dome can see the light.
The artificial atmospheric controls gradually tune down the tint of the dome, allowing in more sunlight. Sleepy little birds nestled in cozy trees start waking up and prepare their throats for their morning calls. A thin layer of mist coats much of the floorspace like an ethereal blanket for the sleeping foliage. A layer within the polyglas which houses reflector units transmits more and more photons of light which were captured by receiver units on the other side of the station. The redirected beams of light are converted to a yellow hue and rain down on the open space below, dancing with the milky mist to produce a layer of golden haze.
The small downtown area which houses only the upper echelon of the station’s inhabitants soon joins the little birds in their wake-up routines. Automated cleaner drones finish tidying up the streets and walkways before quickly scurrying off to their housing units. Coffeehouses come to life as the most dedicated patrons start trickling in to beat the morning rush. By now the morning calls of the little birds are quite full of effervescence. Moans and groans of lazy and spoiled teenagers unwilling to wake up for Sunday school mar their songs only slightly, but still they sing.
A slightly chubby man with a scruffy beard quickly dresses for work. He joins his family downstairs to enjoy a breakfast prepared by his equally chubby wife. Their likewise chubby children chomp down on the hearty breakfast. The man tunes in on his datapad which features a special report on the nature of Jamyl’s triumph over the Elder Fleet just the year before. The man rolls his eyes and powers down the datapad, which flashes a Serpentis logo before displaying a blank screen. Time for work. He bids farewell to his family and rushes out the door to head to the transit hub. Executive admin work for a small Serpentis outpost can be so boring sometimes. But he was good at his job, much like all the other Serpentis staff aboard the humble station.
He arrives to the transit hub well on time. Perfect. It seems like a great start to another Sunday morning for him and the others around. While he waits for the shuttle, he gazes out into the shapeless ether. Something seems so peaceful about it.
Somewhere on the other side of the cluster, a Thukker captain makes a defining decision at that moment.
An overwhelming burst of light overtakes the outside view. The entire station rocks violently. Immediately, the emergency sirens screech throughout the open space beneath the polyglas dome. The proud blue sun reaches for the Serpentis outpost with an outstretched arm. They will finally see the light on this perfect Sunday morning.
Author
Topic: Sunday Morning (Read 1466 times)