The Station
Perpetual Motion
Pressing your nose to the cold glass, you stare out into the depth of space. In the distance you can see the gentle glow of the space station, The Perpetual Motion. You’ve been in outer space for so long, it’s a welcome site for sore eyes. Sure, it’s rather ratty and small compared to most places out there, but it’s all there is in this sector, in this vacuum of space, that it could be falling apart and you wouldn’t care. Just as long as you get off this ship, get to stretch your legs, get a good drink of decent beer, and maybe spend some time with a pretty girl or two.
You contact the station’s communications center, type in a few clearance codes, and they let you into docking bay 13. It’s a lucky number in some corners of the galaxy, ill fated in others. You wonder what it means to you, this time around.
The docking bay is one huge open area, connected apart from the rest of the station. All ships come here, from huge cargo ships to tiny one person transports, all in a neat little row where they wait and sit quietly, while their crew enjoys themselves on the rest of the station. Here you can find a mechanics station, and for a reasonable fee they can do any repairs or upgrades that you may need. Laborers help to load, unload, and store your cargo, and, on occasion, a governmental custom’s officer gives everything a thorough look through, just to make sure you’re in compliance with the universal code of conduct.
While the employees of the station use countless little cubbyholes and halls accessing all corners of the station, you, a visitor, must go through the main Corridor, a glass entry of wonderment. You walk the straight line leading from the docking bay to the rest of the station, and all around you is the wonder of space. You don’t know how thick the glass is, but you don’t care. It’s all around you on either side, huge windows staring out at the beauty of all the cosmos. From this viewing corridor you can see the stars and distant systems, the glow of familiar planets and the details of nearby nebulas. It’s truly breathtaking, and while you’ve been from one corner of the galaxy to the next, this is one view that is yet to be matched.
After the long walk, you’re in the main mall. Here you have access to a supply depot, an in station medic, a communication’s bay, official offices, countless other little nooks and crannies, and best of all, Arcanus Typhon’s Hole in the Wall Bar. A blinking neon sign advertises the bar in bright, day glow colors, and never do all of the letters work all at one time.
The Bar is by far the most popular attraction on the Perpetual Motion. Rumor has it that it’s been there even longer than the actual space station has, but you know that can’t be possible. Either way, one of the things you look forward to the most while in this part of the galaxy is the fine, old fashioned whiskey Arcanus keeps tucked away for special occasions. But, you aren’t always in the mood for such hard liquor, and there are always countless brews and spirits lining the shelves and waiting in the back storage room, just aching to be tasted.
You like to sit at the bar because it gives you easier access to the robot units. They ask you want you’d like and get it for you in a heartbeat. They’re no substitute for a tasty barmaid, but at least they’re polite and efficient. One nice thing about the station is that you don’t have to pay for anything. Once you’ve docked, they have your name and numbers in the system, and the computers help keep track of how much they pull out of your account. You think it’s a really handy way of doing things, but you can’t help but feel bad for those poor fools that overdraw and can’t leave until they’ve paid off their debt somehow, or bribed the right officials to void the transactions off of their records.
You like to sit at the bar and watch people, enjoying your beer and your food and the music coming from the little juke in the corner. Stuff comes in from all over the universe, and it’s always great to hear something new. One thing you’ve found is that the universe’s taste in music is not at all universal. You’ve heard some horrible crap in your days, but also, some of the most beautiful sounds that man has the honor of hearing.
The room is full of tables, randomly placed, and a few booths along the walls. There’s an empty space for dancing, but you’ve seen more fist fights in that open area than two steps, and that’s just fine by you. Every time you go in, there’s this young kid trying to sell you things. You know she’s got to be a smuggler of sorts, and you wonder how she’s avoided the authorities. But she’s harmless and cute, so you don’t mind having her around. And there’s always someone to talk to, other old space veterans like yourself, pilots and captains, traders and smugglers, tourist and soldiers, holographs and AI, cyborgs and even the occasional extra terrestrial. It’s like the dumping ground of the galaxy and you’re right smack in the middle of it. But sometimes you like to sit by yourself, so you go to the conservatory. Spending so much time in space and on a cold metal ship, you like to go in there sometimes and breathe the fresh air, look at the green of the trees, and smell the subtle fragrance of the flowers. Sometimes you feel torn, from the glittering gemstones of the cosmos, and the lush foliage of on planet landscapes. When you’re in outer space, you miss the feel of solid ground. When you’re on land, you miss the stars. But here, you get to enjoy both. It’s like a little bit of heaven.
After you’ve had your fill of food and liquor and shit talking, you retire for a few hours into your room. They have a few semi permanent places for old space dogs like yourself, so you can store few belongings and personal items. The crew and other residents have their own residences, and there’s a few extra empty spaces that they rent out, to whom ever should just wander in, wanting a place to rest from the dredges of travel. There’s other parts of the station that you haven’t been too, like the governmental offices, maintenance corridors, and such. On occasion you wonder what secrets the Perpetual Motion holds, but you know you have no business there, and not wanting to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, you never risk it.
Before you leave, you always stop by the communication’s bay to plug yourself in. Though you’re not the type to settle, there are a few girls that you’ve met that you like to keep in touch with. You also make sure to check your ‘net mail and read any announcements that might be posted. You don’t know much about cyber space, you’re for the real thing, but cyber punks have always interested you, just a little bit. But hacking and AI and navi units are all too dangerous and complicated for an old cowboy like yourself, so you just nod and smile and keep your distance from those folks.
You say goodbye to Typhon, and have one more shot of whiskey before you head out. Back in the main viewing corridor, the kid that sells things convinces you to buy a gold chain from her. You don’t know what you’re going to do with such a thing, but she’s pretty damn persistent on the matter. Maybe you can give it to the next pretty woman that catches your attention.
Back at your ship, you tip the technicians, under the table, for a job well done. Type in your confirmation code, one more time so they can log your departure and check your account balance, and you’re off, back into the stars.
