Why am I here?
I sit on a comfortable, silver couch, the soft noise of the spaceship barely noticeable. Through the large window to my right, the vast, endless blackness of space stretches before me, a void adorned with distant stars. The interior of the ship is a strange combination of cold metal and comfort.
Why did I believe her? I know how she is! She always has a way of twisting things. She told me we were going to some... circus part-time jobs related to our professions. And like a fool, I bought it. But this... this is no circus. This is a damn strip club! There are no fire breathers here. Just... Well, this.
As I sit, sinking further into the couch, lost in the swirl of regret and disbelief, a sound catches my attention. Soft at first, like the friction of cloth against cloth, then the unmistakable sound of lips meeting. Slow, wet kisses, the faint shifting of bodies, I don't even have to turn around to know what's happening behind me, the intimacy that fills the room in the most uncomfortable way possible.
I turn my head slowly, curious yet hesitant, and the sight that greets me is... overwhelming, to say the least. Right there in the open, in one of the ship's public areas, the two famous strippers we picked up from their planet are tangled together, completely absorbed in each other. They're making out without a care in the world, their bodies pressed close, their movements slow and sensual.
I whisper to myself, barely audible, "Should I feel happy about this sight or angry that they're doing this here?"
"She finally turned around," Jenny, the tall, voluptuous woman, whispers to her partner, a smirk playing on her lips.
"We've been here for an hour, and she's just been staring blankly into space," Jessy adds in a hushed tone, her voice dripping with amusement.
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks. Are they mocking me? Probably. But I can't deny it, I'm having a hard time looking away from this... free show. No! Stop! Look away! What am I doing? I'm a graduate of the National Pilots Academy! I should be a symbol of morality, discipline, and restraint, not... this!
Even though I don't actually do much myself, the AI handles everything on the ship. Every task, every routine check, all of it. But there's a catch. A couple of decades ago, there was a massive galactic conflict in which AI was heavily involved. To end the war, the Great Agreement of 2540 was signed. One of its rules says that AI must be programmed to never harm humans, which sounds great—until an emergency happens. When things get critical, the AI becomes practically useless. In those moments, any action that might be dangerous, even if it's more likely to save us than harm us, becomes impossible for them to perform. That's the reason every ship needs a pilot, that's the reason I'm here and that's also the reason I do nothing.
Behind me, I start to hear a wet, unmistakable noise. My stomach tightens, and I quickly turn around. Jenny is aggressively fingering Jessy right there in the open.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" I scream at them, my voice echoing through the room.
"Sorry for causing an inconvenience to you. I'll try not to do it again," the spaceship AI, GPT, responds in its calm, mechanical voice, as if it's mocking me.
"I'm not talking to you, GPT," I snap, irritation dripping from my words. My focus shifts back to the two women in front of me, the frustration boiling over. "I'm reporting this to the manager!" I shout, turning sharply and storming out of the public living room, heading straight for the manager's office just a few meters away.
Stepping out of the living room, I'm greeted by the clean design of the hallway. Soft, glowing lights line the walls, casting a faint blue hue over the polished metal floor. To my left, the private quarters stretch down the corridor. On my front are the dressing rooms, and just beyond them, the stage and bar—two places I try to avoid unless absolutely necessary.
I turn left, walking toward the offices. My own is modest, located in between the control room and the office of the owner and manager, but it serves its purpose.
The manager, though... She is something else. Her hair, jet black and cascading in soft waves, is like the night sky, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. Her tanned skin radiates warmth, a perfect contrast to the cold, metallic environment of the ship. Her appearance alone is stunning, but it's her intelligence that truly amazes me. With her sharp, elegant glasses on her nose, she carries herself with a quiet confidence. Every word she speaks is precise. She doesn't just command the room; she owns it.
And me? I love her!
As I enter the office, I immediately notice its simple, unadorned design. The space is pure efficiency, with walls composed of metallic panels that integrate advanced interfaces. There are no decorations; the environment is for function rather than form. The centerpiece is a levitating holographic desk.
I report the incident, and the manager, with an air of professionalism, responds.
"That occurrence is a prevalent phenomenon among their cohort," she says, her voice resonating,"It is advisable that you acclimate yourself to this behavior. The remaining individuals exhibit similar discord due to the ostentatious conduct of these two."
She lapses into a moment of contemplation, her gaze fixed upon the void as if seeking enlightenment.
"She is truly a philosopher," I murmur quietly to myself.
"Did you articulate something?" she inquires, her tone beautifly formal. "No? Very well. You are dismissed. Your grievance has been duly recorded and will not remain unaddressed."
With her words leaving me satisfied, I exit the office.
"I'm so tired," I mutter to myself as I head straight to my room, exhaustion weighing me down. When I open the door, I find a scene I've become all too familiar with over the past few days—my best friend crouched by the wall, peering through a small hole into the neighboring room.
Very intense moans are coming from the other room.
"You know, I'd scold you if I didn't already know that you didn't make that hole," I say, crossing my arms. "It was here when we arrived, and just like we can hear their conversations and activities, they can hear ours. It's pretty easy to conclude that they made that hole... and they probably enjoy being watched, don't they?"
"Yes, we did, and yes, we enjoy it," one of the girls from earlier in the living room says through intense moans.
"Oh, shut up! You're ruining the immersion!" my best friend snaps, clearly irritated. "Ugh, now you've killed the mood for me."
She pulls away from the wall and sits down, silently watching me for a few minutes before finally speaking.
"By the way, Anne" Roma says, her tone shifting to something more serious as her expression hardens. "Is everything okay? We're in the coordinates where the ship your girlfriend disappeared on vanished... four years ago."
"Oh, really? I hadn't noticed," I reply casually, trying to sound indifferent, though I had absolutely noticed.
"Thanks for your concern, but I'm going to take a nap. Please don't wake me up."
I close my eyes, and sleep takes me almost instantly, pulling me into its depths.
A few hours later, I wake up abruptly. I almost never remember my dreams, but this time, something feels different. There's a lingering sense of importance, something I should remember, but it slips away, like trying to grasp smoke. I can't visualize it at all, yet it weighs on me.
Just as I shake off the last traces of sleep, the lights in the room shift from their usual soft white to an eerie, unsettling red. The atmosphere instantly thickens with tension.
-ALERT: ANOMALOUS SPACE-TIME DISTURBANCE DETECTED. SINGULARITY EVENT IMMINENT. PREPARE FOR UNPREDICTABLE HAZARDS AND SYSTEM INSTABILITIES.-
The robotic voice fills the room, cold and emotionless, but the message sends a chill down my spine. Something's coming... and it's not good.