A Journey Deep

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My life had changed and I was trying to decide how I felt about it.

I'd packed already. I'd gotten the handful of possessions that had crammed my sleeping quarters for the past fifteen years shoved into my dad's old backpack. He said he "dusted it off" for me. I guess that's just another one of those sayings everyone assumed I understood. I didn't. What's dust? I could tell you what my HuTA would say. Probably something like, "Dust is a settled layer of formerly airborne particles, comprised of dirt, pollen, skin flakes..." I understood the concept, I'd just never lived with it. And I didn't understand why you'd actually want all those contaminants to fly back up in the air. If they settle, isn't that the point? I'd much rather walk on bug wings and pieces of skin and hair particles than breathe them in.

Mother's had been going on and on about a million things like that. Sunscreen. Mosquitoes. Humidity. "Wiping your feet, young man," whatever that meant. She'd still be going on, in fact, if I was still with her. I was in the jump seat all geared out and even with her half a ship away, I swear I could hear her. She's just got that kind of voice that carries.

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