Space Oddity

The office had too many colors, but the door was white. The world outside the door was white. And cold. Stella sneezed. "Oh, wow," said the man, for some reason.

The world outside which was white and cold had a rocket in it, among many things, but the rocket was the important part. It was shaped like one, at least, but it was... tiny? Stella used to have to bend her neck to see their tops, but now it barely stood taller than the building where the man presumably worked. "Oh, wow," said Stella.

"Are you cold?" Asked the man.

Yes. "No." He was insane, so he'd probably lend her hier suit jacket or— "No. No. No."

Too late—he'd already taken it off. Stella thought of growling at him, but when she'd attacked 'Reira' earlier as a test, three hundred and twelve lasers pointed at her, with a disemboweled voice threatening to shoot if she performed another act of violence. It'd be a waste of resources, so she had to endure the man placing his coat over her shoulders even though he would be cold now. As if on cue, he sniffed. "There you go. Don't worry, it'll be warmer inside the vehicle. We're going to the Moon now."

The rocket's door opened. This was insane. It was a rocket. Stella had hoped it'd be... anything else? Was it even physically possible to exit the Earth's orbit with such little propulsion? "Is there anyone inside?" She asked.

"The driver, probably." The man rubbed his arms with his hands. "Hurry up."

Good. She'd tell the driver to restrain this man before he harmed himself or others. Stella climbed the stairs to the "rocket", glancing behind her shoulder to see if the man followed her or not. He was. His nose was getting red. Once inside, several lights turned on at once. It looked like a cabin. It felt like a cabin. There was some internal heating. "Where is the driver?"

"At the driver's, uh, seat. I guess." The man sat upon one of the sterile, rectangular chairs. Stella did the same; they were much more comfortable than they looked. With the button-down white shirt but not the suit jacket, it was easy to see that the man was quite fit. Strangely so. What use did a muscular physique have on an alleged post-scarcity world with no conflict? "It'll take a couple minutes to take off again. Would you like to see through the window?"

Stella felt like she'd been doing something she shouldn't, which was bizarre, since this was objectively untrue. "Say that again?"

The man gestured at the windows. That hardly helped, but Stella nodded anyway. He tapped at something in the air; the curtains surrounding them curled into tubes at the top, and so they revealed the cold, white landscape again. "There isn't much to see at this time of the year, unfortunately but... there you go."

Stella saw a lot of things, but she digressed. "How thick is the glass?" She asked. "This is unsafe."

The man shrugged.

"This is very unsafe. Such a small device can't feasibly attain escape velocity. How fast does it go? You'll die."

"Nah. I've been in these dozens of times."

Dialogue was pointless; she'd have to take drastic measures. While distracting the man, Stella would restrain him, use what was meant to be an anti-nuclear shield in her emergency compartment, surround him with it, then jump off the rocket along with him once it threatened to explode. Even if this could lead to her parts being unsalvageable, at least he'd survive. As for the driver... she still had to come up with a plan for that. Maybe she could fit the two of them into the shield. "Why is your hair blue?" Asked Stella, when a dimmer shade of it glowed from the roof of the cabin. "Is it a medical condition? Fungal infection?"

"It's dyed."

"By fungi?"

"No, by... maybe? Not sure what they use for dye. By the way, that light means everything is good, and we're about to set off." He took out something from the pockets of his slack, a white rectangle with—

"No," Stella said.

The man immediately caught on to what she meant. "Does the smell bother you?" He asked.

"Nicotine is harmful to your body."

"It is. But not yours, right?"

It never ended, did it? This man was a bundle of maladaptative coping mechanisms. As the rocket began to hum, he lit the cigarette with an evil-looking cylinder, also from his spatially-defying pockets, then took a puff. Two. Three. Stella, too, was fuming, but metaphorically.

"Stella, it's fine. It's safe. Well, at least for now. I'll stop once the oxygen levels drop. I just have one left, they'll confiscate it at the entrance if I don't smoke it, and I forgot to leave this behind, so."

...wait.

Excellent—he'd drop unconscious due to cancer and would easily fit into her anti-nuclear shield that way. She still had to figure out a way to deal with the driver, but this cut the problem in half. "You're right," she said. "Feed your self-destructive urges as you must."

"Will do."

His behavior was notably less professional than when he'd first met her. It could be the beer.

Stella squealed when she rocket took off, nearly causing the man to choke. It was indecorous, but she couldn't help it; she clung to the seat. The fur on her tail bristled. The cold, white world outside shook. 

As they left the territory of whatever that building was, it revealed more of itself: a town block, a frozen lake, glittery pine trees and, more importantly, people. The houses barely differed from the ones she'd once protected. By the time the weight of her and the man and the world itself began to fall on her, the people had become multicolored dots on an otherwise white canvas.

Only after the rocket shook a bit did Stella realize she'd been gluing her face to the (not) glass. Her tail swished from side to side. It'd probably been doing that all the while, too. 

As for the man? He no longer smoked. Instead, he glanced outside the way one would the passing view on a train, then retrieved an item from his spacetime-defying pockets again. This time, it was a phone. Stella knew those. He tapped on it instead of watching the literal miracle around him, which made sense, since he was used to it.

To this reality.

"Are you sure the rocket won't collapse?" Stella asked. Everything was white now, above and below.

"Quite sure."

"And if it does?"

"It won't."

"Are you able to predict the future?"

"No, it's just statistically more likely to win the lottery. Enjoy the view. Once we're out of the atmosphere, it'll be boring for some time."

Just like this was boring to him now. "What's your name?" She asked.

He glanced at her without turning his head. "Fuyukawa Shigure. There's a nametag on my—oh, forgive me, you're probably not connected to the network yet. We'll do that later."

"Fu... yu... can I call you Bob?"

"No."

People usually said yes, but that was then, and this was now. As the clouds, too, became a white blanket below them, Stella watched them with her cheek glued to the glass. Nothing was exploding. Nothing felt like exploding. "I think it's safe," she said. Bob did not respond. "I can't smell any broken components. It seems like whichever material this is made off can withstand rapid shifts in pressure and temperature. Everything is black now. No more oxygen. But we're still alive. Oh!"

Another rocket flew by. It was see-through. One of the passengers waved at her from the cabin, but Stella impolitely stared instead of following basic etiquette.

"Fu... yu... ka... wa... Shi..."

 "Never mind. Just call me Bob."

"Bob, there's another rocket!"

"Yes."

"And another one! And another one! And—big! The—space station! So big! Earth is so big and blue! And the Sun! And nobody's dying! WOW!"

When she turned to look at him, he was smiling again. "Told you," he said.

But Stella could not acknowledge this. She paced like a crazed beast, waving at everyone passing by in other see-through vehicles. Many of them slipped into the world inside their screens, but that was okay.

"Bob? Is that the moon?"

"Indeed it is."

"And we'll go there?"

"We'll go there."

"And you won't die?"

"Probably not."

"How?"

"See those bubbles? People live inside those. That's where we're heading."

Earth was still big and blue, but not so much that it dominated the sky. There was no atmosphere to serve as a blanket, no resistance. Lots of rockets. Lots of silver. "I see them now," Stella mumbled. "They look like snow globes."

"The settlements? Yeah, they do. The one to the right is the one we'll be heading to."

"Or fish bowls."

"Yes."

"Fish in aquariums are entirely dependent on the system they dwell in. They can swim, and feed, and interact with each other. But they can't control is the aquarium cracks, or if the owner forgets they exist."

"Stella..." Bob trailed off.

"Let's hope nothing happens to these colonies."