Aedan's eyes fluttered open. Only to immediately close as a shooting pang of fatigue poked behind them.
'Fuck me... even this high-quality piece of shit didn't change anything...' he grimly thought. Another restless night. He sighed deeply and rubbed his bleary eyes with the palms of his hands- he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept well. Truly well. He also couldn't remember the last time he'd dreamt of anything.
His tablemates and coworkers would occasionally reminisce about their dreams, leaving Aedan with nothing other than to pretend he could relate. But it was a completely foreign concept to him. It made him envious in some ways. But mostly, it just pissed him off. He didn't know why.
He threw off the bedsheets and supported himself into a sitting position on the edge of the bed, letting his bare feet rest on the cold floor as he placed his face in his hands and softly groaned into them.
Self-doubt. Anxiety. Frustration.
He gritted his teeth and tightly gave himself a light slap on the side of the face.
"Get it together!" he growled, clenching his hands into fists as he fiercely stared at the floor.
He counted to ten and took measured breaths until he felt sufficiently centered. He then stood and calmly went about his morning routine.
Five minutes later, he looked more like a presentable human being after changing into a skintight regulation undersuit with a set of casual leisure wear thrown over it. He apathetically examined himself in the bathroom mirror and sniffed with a frown before heading out for some much-needed breakfast.
----------------------------------------
"Aedan, over here!" Orson's rowdy voice shouted from somewhere in the middle of Section Five's crowded cafeteria. Orson's boisterous shout snapped the precious few tenuous strands of goodwill that happened to be slowly forming in everyone's waking minds. Dozens of people with dark bags beneath their eyes cast venomous glares at the loudmouth over their steaming coffee containers. It was currently "breakfast hour,” with approximately twenty minutes left before most of Section Five's Indents needed to report to their duty stations.
Before the start of a twelve-hour shift, these precious minutes were used for power naps, consuming ungodly amounts of "morning" menu foods, drowning in small thermoses of coffee, and idle chatter among friends, both old and new. The atmosphere was weighty, almost sleepy since mostly everyone was still shaking off the lingering effects of last night's SS (SomaSleep) IV cocktails.
Aedan couldn't see over the people walking between tables and was going to start randomly making his way in the direction of the voice when he saw a hand rise into the air and wave about. He beelined over to it with a tired smile, weaving between tables full of tired men and women silently chewing their food with blank stares or nursing their coffees with both hands like lifelines.
The table he was looking for finally appeared around the center of the spacious room.
A smiling Orson still beckoned him over with enough vigor to shake the table and merit a punch to the shoulder from Lyne, who was sitting beside him. He noticed everyone else was at the table, too, including Boone, Vasi, Dony, Kita, Lou Ru, and even Trinity.
He suppressed a thoughtful frown and instead made some guesses as to her presence. And once again, he came up short. He couldn’t help but think he was growing complacent- weak.
Everyone except for Trinity looked up from their plates as he walked over. Boone nodded in greeting, Vasi winked while chewing with an open mouth, and Dony whispered something in Lyne's ear- something which apparently deemed a slug in the shoulder. Kita offered a tired smile over the lip of her coffee container, and Lou Rou pursed her lips with narrowed eyes. Everything was as it should have been.
"Morning, everyone," Aedan greeted his coworkers with a nod and an even smile as he claimed one of the last free spaces at the table beside Boone, placing down his tray and sliding into his seat. There were a few half-hearted 'good mornings' directed back at him and a grumble or two, but Orson, energetic as always, leaned across the table, grabbed Aedan's head with both hands, and planted a big kiss on top of his head. Having expected something along those lines before having sat down, Aedan let it happen- though he also made sure to act surprised and disgusted- because he was.
"You beautiful bastard! How did you do it?!" Orson belly-laughed, sitting back down and promptly receiving a slap on the shoulder from Lyne, who almost looked more offended than Aedan felt.
The people at the surrounding tables flinched, probably even going as far as trying to scoot further away—a futile gesture, given that the tables were bolted to the floor.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" Lyne asked in disbelief, her expression fluctuating between a smile at the thought of Aedan's misfortune and disgust at Orson's personal brand of overfamiliarity.
"Seriously..." Kita muttered with a weird look, sipping her coffee as her eyes darted between them.
"Oh come on," Vasi said around a mouthful of pancake, "-I think it's cute. And don't blame my boy, it isn't his fault!" he pointed the fork at his temple and made the 'cuckoo' motion with a wicked smile before spearing another syrup and butter slathered pastry on his plate.
Boone slowly chewed his food in silence, glancing between people but not adding anything; same with Lou Ru and Trinity, though both had more difficulty hiding their incredible embarrassment for everyone else at the table.
"Nope! Not today, nothing you say can change the fact that Aedan, our Aedan, got prom-" Orson's ecstatic declaration was interrupted by Lyne's hand clamping over his mouth.
"Quiet!" she hissed, her eyes furtively darting around at the other tables before firmly whacking Orson upside the head.
"Nice one, babe," Dony deadpanned, sipping some water.
Lyne glanced at her boyfriend from the corner of her narrowed eyes as she contemplated striking him too, but finally decided to put out one fire at a time and turned back to address Orson.
"You lumbering dumbass," she angrily whispered, "-do you want Aedan to get fucking murdered on his next shift?"
Orson's radiant smile gradually vanished until all that was left was an extremely chagrined expression.
"Sorry..." he softly mumbled, lowering his head as he suddenly found his food extremely fascinating.
Aedan, however, just amusedly shook his head as he forked some lightly salted scrambled egg into his mouth.
Lyne was right. History showed that the only way an Indent was promoted in any capacity was by snitching on others in their Section. It didn't matter that Aedan wasn't or even had a proven track record for standing up to lower-level authority abuse. The only thing the other Indents would see was a sellout. And if there was one thing that kept these 'criminals' in line, it was that they knew their suffering was more or less equally distributed. But the moment they saw someone receiving preferential treatment? Aedan could swiftly kiss whatever reputation he'd managed to cobble together goodbye, which pissed him off to no end.
Seeing that Orson was finally settled down, Lyne grabbed a fork and roughly stabbed the sausage on her plate. Dony winced.
"And you," she said to Aedan, her eyes narrowing dangerously, "-the worst of the bunch."
Aedan stopped chewing, cocking an eyebrow.
"Yes, you, you asshole!" she angrily muttered, ripping a bite out of her sausage like it owed her money, "-whatever happened to 'I'll let you know,' huh?"
"Well," Aedan swallowed his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin before calmly replying, "I did say 'tomorrow,’ and-"
"Yeah, yeah, ‘tomorrow is today,’ go fuck yourself," Lyne shook her head and angrily swigged her steaming hot coffee.
"And don't even think about asking me to watch your back again if you're gonna be like this, got it?" she demanded.
Aedan smirked, "Yes, Ma'am," he saluted with his fork, then scooped some crispy hash browns.
He knew Lyne meant well, but she wouldn't stop badgering him for details about his safety. It wasn’t very pleasant despite its thoughtfulness. She was like the group's unofficial mother. A foul-mouthed, short-tempered, aggressive mother, but someone who cared in their own unique way nonetheless. So he ended the conversation before it could get rolling. Plus, he knew if he didn't let her have her regular breakfast routine, she would be absolutely unreasonable and verbally abusive at dinner time.
Lyne snorted and went back to eating and talking with Dony, who looked incredibly uninterested in the entire conversation from start to finish as he separated the food groups on his plate and ate them individually.
"So, how did it happen? Seems... unlikely," Kita dubiously asked, setting down her coffee.
Aedan glanced at her before returning to his food.
"Dunno," he shrugged, "-guess someone liked my work."
"Mm… wait," Kita frowned, leaning in a bit, "-you don't even know who?"
"Nope," Aedan casually replied.
Lyne, who'd been paying attention the whole time, started paying closer attention. The same went for Vasi.
Boone was guilty by association because he sat beside Aedan and couldn't help but have ears.
"Don't you think that's weird?" Kita worriedly asked.
"He doesn't think anything is weird, right Ice Man?" Vasi interjected. Everyone ignored him.
"Forget it, K," Lyne said, leaning against Dony's shoulder, "-he won't talk about jack shit until it's too late."
Kita sighed through her nose and looked like she wanted to keep asking, but decided to drop it and picked up her coffee, "Just be careful," she concluded.
Aedan unworriedly smiled, "Careful's my middle name."
----------------------------------------
Same Day...
"Error Code 555tr91yhnuj2: Access to MLC-HDC-04 is restricted... The error report case file has been recorded and sent for review. Please contact your designated Overseer for further assistance."
The error message hovered in bold red font across the center of Aedan's HUD. He sniffed in annoyance and dismissed the prompt. It automatically initiated a minor reboot, placing him back at square one: a maintenance master menu drop-down displaying countless overarching systems and their respective Nodes. Accessing any variety of Nodes through a hard-wired connection would provide a repair team with cursory overlay information that wasn't so much diagnostically important as it was one of the first methods of determining if a particular Node was properly functioning. Or whether there was a malfunction with the system itself.
Unfortunately, the system he was currently analyzing for any outstanding issues was one of the upper-most docking bay's Magnetic Lock Couplers (MLCs). He was now going on his fourth hour of unsuccessfully attempting to isolate the problem- mindlessly checking and re-checking a seemingly endless maintenance history log while simultaneously comparing that against the actual device's system source code.
The previous error code had been his sixth attempt at troubleshooting.
Unable to stifle a sudden pang of overwhelming frustration at the lack of progress, he force-closed the maintenance program with a few aggressive taps to the holographic interface on his forearm and manhandled the interface connector, yanking it out of the MLC's port.
He suddenly felt light-headed, and his vision went foggy.
'No... fuck, no...' were his last coherent thoughts before he lost tension in his legs and fell back-first against the bulkhead, eliciting a hollow 'thump' from his suit's integrated oxygen supply sitting between his shoulders. He slowly slid down until he fell onto his backside, his legs splayed out in a 'V.’
The connective interface cable dragged itself across the floor, slowly spooling itself back into its protective casing on his suit.
His labored breaths reverberated through his helmet- rattling the CO2 filters.
He clenched his shaking hands into fists on his lap as a strong sense of disorientation pulsed behind his eyes, his heart fluttered against his chest, and his stomach twisted as nausea clawed its way up his throat.
"Abnormal vitals detected- ramping tachycardia and metabolic acidosis... administering SSRIs (Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors)," his suit's onboard EMS (Emergency Medical System) said, the announcement was followed by a hiss and whir as a series of searing cold needles painfully pierced his inner biceps just above the elbows and at his lateral thighs.
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Aedan reflexively jolted against the bulkhead, hissing through gritted teeth as the intensely painful sensation slowly turned icy, then to a comfortable warmth. A weary sigh escaped him as he went limp. He felt his heart rate slow to normal as it didn't feel like a jackhammer was pounding inside his chest. His blurry vision snapped back into focus, and he heavily exhaled.
"SSRIs successfully administered. User vitals... Approaching nominal. This emergency medical event and on-site administration of intervention-stage medications have been recorded. Please immediately seek the nearest operating medical facility to consult with a licensed healthcare provider. Have a nice day."
Aedan slumped back against the bulkhead, beads of sweat dotting his forehead.
"Goddamnit..." he muttered, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the beginnings of a headache throbbing at his temples.
----------------------------------------
A few hours later...
After a lengthy visit to the section's clinic and an invasive physical examination, Aedan sat alone in a comfortable chair along a wall in the therapist's office. He was the last patient on the docket tonight.
He was browsing on a small holographic interface along the length of the chair's right armrest, its system providing a wide selection of color and ambiance modification options freely available to all patients. Seeing something he liked, he pressed and swiped, causing the interface to descend back into the armrest.
In the following seconds, he watched as the room's illumination system dimmed a few shades and the walls turned a soothing sage green hue.
He was always particularly fond of this color, which, in hindsight, probably played a powerful role in it being one of the few guilty pleasures he allowed himself to integrate into his public persona.
However, if someone asked him why it was his favorite, he would always say something about how it was the color of a small pond he and his father would walk along back when he was growing up in the Outer Colonies. But, of course, that wasn't the actual reason.
He wasn't sure why he was drawn to the color if he were honest with himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.
There was one time he sat himself down and thought about whether or not he wanted to bring it up with the therapist purely out of personal curiosity. But he got rid of the thought as soon as he had it.
It was too dangerous.
Every conversation with the therapist was a carefully crafted response with a liberal sprinkling of truths over the entire façade that was Aedan Sones, effectively allowing him to dance around the core facts of who he was. After all, the best lies contained some amount of truth. The chances of accidentally letting something slip, or even worse, contradicting something he'd said during a different session, would exponentially increase if he let himself take those kinds of liberties solely for peace of mind.
The therapist would catch that mistake and realize that Aedan hadn't opened up as agreed, breaking their mutual trust. Aedan couldn't let that happen. The therapist's reports solidified Aedan's persona. Made it real, in-person and on paper.
So, he decided to drop it. He wasn't willing to expose himself to that level of risk to dive deep into his psyche to find the rosebud behind his like for a fucking color.
He was thinking about explaining his earlier panic attack when a mature man's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Well, hello, Aedan!" Dr. Dubois’s soft, even-cadenced voice sounded out into the waiting room.
"Dr. Dubois!” Aedan rose from his seat and met the doctor halfway.
“Thanks for taking the time to see me," Aedan smiled and shook Dr. Dubois's hand, the latter offering a warm smile as he inspected Aedan over the rims of his glasses.
"Anytime for you, my boy, you know that," he replied, then grew serious, "-but tell me now, what's this I'm hearing about a panic attack?"
"Ah well," Aedan grew sheepish, not meeting Dr. Dubois's inquisitive eyes, "-I honestly don't know either, Doc," he lamely replied.
"Hm," Dr. Dubois pursed his lips, "-well, in any event, please do come inside- I have about another forty minutes or so before I close up shop," he said, pushing the door completely open and stepping aside to let Aedan through.
"Thank you," said Aedan, walking past him and entering the familiar office space: a cozy room with warm neutral-colored walls, soft lighting that somehow managed to avoid inspiring claustrophobia, and a set of nice modern furniture that was clean and streamlined. In addition, a wall section was dedicated to a HoloVid interface capable of replicating and displaying life-like, hyper-realistic environments and the associated sounds of the wildlife within that ecosystem.
Dr. Dubois pulled his chair out from his desk and wheeled it beside the edge, turning it to face Aedan's chair. He pointed at the HoloVid, "Would you like me to change it?" he asked, picking up his tablet and swiping across it.
"You're the last one in today, so we can make it as loud, bright, or fun as you'd like, though, you know, not so much that it distracts us from the session, naturally," he said, looking at Aedan with a finger hovering at the ready over the tablet.
Aedan glanced at the HoloVid out of the corner of his eye as he sat in one of the comfortable chairs opposite Dr. Dubois.
"I love it,” Aedan said with a smile, “-it's not a problem."
The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as his instincts reacted to seeing that kind of desert vista again. But he knew how Dr. Dubois was- he couldn't tell the doctor that there was something about any particular environment that he found disturbing or unnerving. That would inevitably lead to questions. Questions he didn't want to be asked.
"All right then, let's get started, shall we?" Dr. Dubois asked with a smile, also sitting in his chair. They now sat opposite one another and beside the HoloVid, its serene lighting and picturesque view illuminating their figures.
"Why do you think you experienced an anxiety attack?" Dr. Dubois opened with an easily guessable question.
"Stress... probably," Aedan replied. Dr. Dubois tapped on the tablet.
"Mhm, okay... and where do you feel the stress predominantly manifests itself from?"
"Just... problems socializing, I guess?" Aedan asked like he was trying to figure it out himself.
"I see, okay... I understand," Dr. Dubois nodded, "-then tell me, how do these 'social problems' typically make you feel?"
"Alone," Aedan whispered after almost half a minute of silent, thoughtful 'contemplation.’
He needed to redirect Dr. Dubois's attention to something apparent and workable. Social anxiety and fears were easy enough. However, he could never have guessed that his mind was less stable than he thought. Redirecting the topic in that direction seemingly unearthed what he considered long-buried memories and pent-up emotions.
He was eight years old, scared, and crying. He could not extricate himself from the arms of someone carrying him away- not understanding his father's cold, distant eyes and imperious posture as he watched him being taken. His mother stood beside his father, conversing with someone wearing a strange uniform, and wouldn't even look in Aedan's direction or acknowledge his desperate cries.
The memory flashed through his mind in an instant.
Aedan blinked.
He could still remember almost every detail of that final stretch of the corridor before he was thrown onboard a tiny shuttle and flown away. It was three years before he saw his parents again. A deep fury started burning a hole in his throat, and only through rallying all of his willpower did he instantly suppress the sensation before it could show on his face.
"Do you often feel this way?" Dr. Dubois innocently asked, oblivious to the sudden war raging in his patient's mind.
Aedan cleared his throat, "No, not often," he shook his head. Dr. Dubois made a note on the tablet.
"So then, how do you feel when a problem, say... pops up unexpectedly?"
He was twelve years old, softly hyperventilating and gingerly clutching a broken arm as he barely managed to stabilize himself in the upper canopy of a large tree-like flora. Tears streaked down his face from the nearly unbearable pain. A pair of glowing purple eyes intently watched him from the forest floor, silently prowling around the tree’s base. A vicious predator’s deep, low growl lulled him to sleep that night. And for the following several sleepless, hungry nights.
He occasionally heard that growl in the dark corners of his room, and those purple eyes would hauntingly illuminate his drug-induced dreams.
"I handle it," Aedan nonchalantly shrugged, choosing the best words he could make up on the spot as the memory surfaced. A phantom pain throbbed at his right elbow.
"But how do you feel about it?" Dr. Dubois reiterated, glancing up from the tablet.
"Like it's something that needs to be handled," Aedan unflinchingly met the doctor's gaze, inadvertently making it expressly clear he wouldn't discuss it—and only realizing what he'd done after the fact.
'Goddamnit...' Aedan wanted to sigh. What was going on with him right now?
"Mm, well, all right... let's move on then..." Dr. Dubois continued after a pause, tapping on the tablet.
"Here we are: What are some, if any, of the positive changes you want to make in your life?" Dr. Dubois seemed particularly excited about this question, expectantly waiting for an answer as he took off his glasses and fiddled with them in hand.
Aedan straightened up in his chair and gave a thoughtful expression as though he were seriously considering the question.
He was fourteen years old, screaming himself hoarse as he mercilessly beat another boy his age to death with his bare fists. He couldn't feel his knuckles anymore, and his vision was nothing but a blur of sweat, tears, and blood. Not all of it his own. Strong hands firmly grasped him by the shoulders and flung him off the other boy's body- sending Aedan sprawling backward across the course floor. Breathing heavily, he wiped the back of a hand across his face to clear his eyes of sticky blood and sweat. Gasping for breath, he looked up at the arena's viewing platforms filled with dozens of spectators. His mother expressionlessly said something to another woman beside her. The spectacle beneath her was unworthy of her attention. However, his father's usually cold, apathetic eyes held something else this time. Approval.
"I want to learn to communicate better," Aedan replied, meeting the doctor's eyes.
"Oh?" Dr. Dubois's eyes lit up, his bushy brows rising to his hairline, "-that's a very admirable goal!" he said with happy surprise, making a note on this tablet.
"And what are some of the steps you've taken or plan to take toward this goal?"
"I've been talking more with some friends over breakfast," Aedan proudly replied.
Security footage of his morning activities would corroborate this story if someone decided to look into it more. He hadn’t exactly planned it that way, but he did enjoy it when things worked out on their own.
"Excellent! Yes, very good; having good friends can make all the difference in the world," Dr. Dubois nodded, making more notes on the tablet.
"And what are some of the topics you find yourself drawn to discussing with these friends?"
"Nothing in particular," Aedan shrugged, "the food, the odd job, maybe something interesting that happened."
"Idle chatter can be quite fun, I admit. But why not tell me a little more about that?" Dr. Dubois asked, swiping across the tablet.
Aedan raised an eyebrow, "You mean...?"
"Well, the interesting things," Dr. Dubois made a 'go on' motion, "-tell me more about those."
Aedan awkwardly smiled, "I doubt you'd find our conversations interesting."
"Oh, please, on the contrary, my dear boy!" Dr. Dubois sounded hurt at Aedan's suggestion, placing the tablet on his desk and leaning forward onto his knees as he removed his glasses and held them in one hand.
"How long have we been having our sessions now? Two years?" he asked, animatedly motioning with his glasses, "-you must know that this is a judgment-free space! No matter what you may utter within these walls, you must know that not only is it confidential, but that I'm also here for you. No matter what!" he proudly declared, putting on his glasses and leaning back in his chair.
"I'm a clinical psychologist, first and foremost!" he scooped up his tablet and brought it back to his lap, "-my employer be damned! I do what's best for my patients. Not what's best for whoever happens to be employing me for that cycle," he seemed genuinely offended at the concept of selling himself out at the sake of his patients.
Aedan didn't buy a second of the man's performance, but that didn't mean his persona wouldn't be moved. So he relaxed and smiled, seeming set at ease.
"I know," he nodded, "I know... thank you, doctor."
Dr. Dubois's expression immediately softened as he returned to his previous composure and ruefully chuckled, "No, no- I’m sorry. I really stood on my soapbox for that one, didn’t I?”
"It's no problem," Aedan shook his head with a smirk, "I appreciate you saying so; I feel relieved knowing I can always come to you with something troubling me." He internally sneered at the thought.
"Anytime, day or night, you know this," Dr. Dubois smiled, then grunted as he looked back down at the tablet.
"Okay. All right, good," he continued, "-now let's move on to something simple: I'm going to pose a series of statements, and I would like you to answer with the numbers one, two, three, or four. One being: not at all, two: several days, three: more than half the days, and four: nearly every day. Ready?" He looked at Aedan over the top of his glasses.
Aedan nodded, hoping nothing else about the session would evoke those earlier bouts of uncontrollable memories. After this was over, he needed to take a mental inventory and get his shit together.
"All right, good. Let's begin. The first statement: 'I possess little interest or pleasure in doing things.'"
"Two," Aedan replied after a brief pause. Dr. Dubois tapped on the tablet.
"Second statement: 'I am feeling down, depressed, or hopeless.'"
"One," Aedan firmly replied.
The Dr. Dubois absently nodded to himself, tapping the tablet and muttering, "Okay, good. Excellent..." He made another few taps.
"Third statement-"
This went on for some time before Dr. Dubois swiped across the tablet with finality and gently placed it on the desk beside him. He then turned back to Aedan with a smile, crossing one knee over the other and clasping his hands in his lap.
"So, I don't know about you-" he said, "-but I thought we had a very productive session tonight, Aedan."
"Thank you, doctor. I think so as well," Aedan replied with an amicable smile.
Dr. Dubois took off his glasses and folded them, pointing them in Aedan's direction, saying, "You know you've come very far since our first time together. Made a tremendous amount of progress," his hands were very animated as he spoke, "-and I'm incredibly proud of what you've accomplished during your time here, and you should be too," he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Just remember not to be too hard on yourself, okay?" he quietly inquired, the question mirrored in his eyes.
Aedan nodded solemnly as he said, "Of course, doctor. I know."
Dr. Dubois smiled, "Good. Excellent," he nodded, then sat silently for another heartbeat before leaning back in his chair and standing up.
"Then that officially brings our time tonight to an end," he said, smoothing down his shirt and holding out a hand. Aedan also stood and firmly grasped the doctor's outstretched hand. They shook.
"Ah, wonderful!" Dr. Dubois beamed, then jokingly asked, "Same time next week?"
"You know it," Aedan chuckled.
----------------------------------------
Three Days Later...
Aedan stood somewhere on the upper northwestern section of the Cluster's exterior, his entire right palm pressed firmly against an interface panel as he casually perused through various individual layouts being downloaded to his suit through a BNW (Biometric Non-Wire). BNWs were slower than DWTs (Direct-Wire Transfer) but were also very convenient if a technician wanted to avoid the small mountain of security pop-ups and post-documentation submissions. DWTs directly connected a technician's suit to the interface and would automatically data dump everything in the terminal's storage for quick, immediate access in an emergency. But since there was so much proprietary and sensitive information involved, it was more than a pain in the ass to deal with once the repair was complete. The BNWs offered a nice reprieve from that hassle. Still, the largest downside was the rate of data download and the unnecessarily convoluted interface navigation, which was sorted in a more 'user-friendly' format that paradoxically confused technician's like Aedan. In addition, the dropdown menus were now hidden with tabs inside files and within diagnostic programs that needed to be run to bypass that firewall which a DWT would automatically get through. Although finding what he needed when using a BNW took longer, Aedan preferred them over DWTs because it gave him a moment to blank out as his fingers mechanically accessed data.
A nice little moment of respite. A moment where he didn't have to think or interact with anyone. He could take a breath and be himself- basking in the silence.
A silence suddenly shattered by the DPS, startling Aedan's wandering thoughts, as it blared a shrill repeating sequence he'd never heard before.
The BNW panel suddenly flared an angry red beneath his palm before frantically strobing.
Aedan's eyes narrowed as he somewhat understood what he saw, 'Emergency...? But what...' he incredulously wondered before noticing something out of the corner of his eye. He slowly turned to the left. The semi-exterior corridor he stood inside had a floor, a bulkhead wall, and a ceiling- the corridor a few dozen meters south of him was also glowing an emergency red.
He looked North. Same thing- brightly strobing emergency lights. The sight was incredibly eerie against the dead silent backdrop of space.
A weight formed in the pit of his stomach.
The DPSs cacophony gradually faded into the back of his mind as he involuntarily swallowed and carefully moved closer to the corridor's other side- the one exposed to vacuum. The overhang/ceiling above him slowly disappeared to reveal the endless expanse of stars... twinkling points of light... and...
His pupils shrunk to pinpricks, and his breath hitched in his throat.