literature

Cheating Death

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Literature Text

"We're not going to make it," she said to me, eyes wide with mock-fear.  

This woman, the best pilot I'd ever known, never got scared.  She, who threaded a 300-ton Starlifter through station pylons with one hand, her other holding a sandwich.

Who once dive-bombed a sun to collect an errant cargo pod, thumbing the overrides on the blaring hi-temp warnings.

Who routinely cold-started matter/antimatter pods because of near suicidal impatience.

She was convinced we were gonna die, and so I instantly believed her.  But still, the details would have been nice to know…

"Wait… You said we had plenty of momentum.  You said the loss of engine two--"

"That was then, this is now.  We just lost engine one.  I can't do this with zero engines.  I need something to thrust with, anything."

"Um… braking thrusters."

"Gyros won't turn us quick enough.  We only have," she glanced down, "40 seconds or so.  It'd take 210 seconds to spin us on gyros alone."

"Answers my next question: attitude thrusters.  I guess those are—"

"Gone, yeah."  She sighed theatrically.   "Well, we have maybe 35 seconds or so.  Wanna fuck?"

I almost laughed.  "Funny lady.  Hmmm.  Gravity chute?"

She grimaced.  "Think about it.  We need gravity for the fucking gravity chute, that's why it's called a gravity—"

"Fine, fine.  Um… "

"Nope, this is it.  We're definitely going in.  Gonna be a spectacular crash, too... one the system newsbloggers'll write about for a decade.  Maybe even name a crater after us."  

"I doubt we'll make a crater by crashing into a trade station.  That's more like—"

"20 seconds.  You really wanna argue about this?  Shoulda gone for the sex."

"None of the engine cold-start stuff worked?"

She pounded on the helm panel with both fists before taking a deep breath and answering.  "Nope.  15 seconds."

"Okay then.  I opt for an awkward 10-second pause.  Afterlife?  Here we come."

I held my hand out to her, but she simply stared at it.  Was she crying?  I never got to find out since I refused to look.  If there were tears they were of frustration, not fear.  Not her.  

Eventually she reached and intertwined her grimy fingers in mine, squeezed.

"Ka-boom," she whispered, moments before the end.

White-out, searing heat, a vague sense of motion…

TWIST.

...and we fell out of simulation.  We blinked at each other across the table, eyes unaccustomed to real light.  Screaming in rage, she ripped her trode set off, wadded it, flung it across the room.

I pulled mine loose as well; it quivered like jelly shot through with wires.

"We suck!" she raged, leaping up and punching the air.  It smelled clean and clinical here, at the Civil Aeronautics Board test center.

"You suck.  I was just along for the ride."

"Fuck you!"

"…the death ride.  Thanks for killing me, asshole."

"This is not funny!  We'll never recert at this rate!  I thought this was wired, man!"

"So did I, so did I."  Certainly, I'd paid enough to grease the deal.  Shoulda been a cake-walk, instead of… what?  

"That seemed like a level 12 sim to you?  Kobayashi Maru stuff?"

"HELL yeah.  Nobody, not a fuckin cyborg, coulda handled all the shit they threw at us.  Something is seriously wrong; we got ripped off."

"My thoughts exactly.  Whelp," I said, easing to my feet, "let's get some answers."

But before I could walk the 15 feet to the test chamber door, it slid aside.  A uniformed CAB goon stepped in, hand on his firearm, and the door whooshed shut behind him.  His eyes were speculative, darting back and forth between us.

His body language said it all: we were cooked.  We'd never leave this place alive.

I didn't have time to yell a warning before he drew his maser and fired.  Curiously I remained conscious long enough to see the steam explosion blowing out my chest, the red aerosolized mist of my own blood—

TWIST.

We blinked at each other across the table, eyes unaccustomed to real light.  Screaming in rage, she ripped her trode-set off, wadded it, and flung it across the room.

"Again?"  I whispered.

"We suck!" she raged, leaping up and punching the air.  It smelled clean and clinical here, at the Civil Aeronautics test center.

"You-suck-I-was-just-along-for-the-ride," I mumbled my lines, not caring if she heard.  "Hey.  Does this seem familiar to you?"

"What, dying?  Fuck no!  Wait… yeah."  She paused in mid-rage.  "We were just…"  

Oh god, I knew what this was… despite myself, the hysterical laughter came.  

"This is not funny," she seemed honestly scared.

We were looped.  They'd looped us.  I'd tried to game the system, and they'd happily taken our money, but fucked us good.  Now we were trapped in the CAB mainframes, doomed to loop like this forever.  Or at least until they figured out what to do with us.  

"What the fuck is so goddamned funny?"  she saw me losing it, heard the door slide open, saw the CAB goon step in.

Then she remembered.  She closed her eyes, anticipating the blast.

TWIST.
A few thousand iterations of this, and anyone would agree to anything. And all it costs the state is some processor time...
© 2011 - 2024 RalfMaximus
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cihge's avatar
This somehow reminds me of Hypercube... Only I like it much better for its far higher level of, as someone else before me put it, "Holy shit this is scary!"