I am completely disgusting, covered in blood from clearing out the bodies of my fallen militia. I haven’t been this close to death in so long, it brings back memories of darker times. However, it is refreshing in a way, a reminder that life is finite and to be cherished. As I strip out of my uniform, the once light-grey fabric leaves behind red trails, looking in the mirror is a window into my worst nightmares, the only remaining remnants of my past trauma, or at least, the only remaining remnants I’m self-aware of. I’m sure that any decent therapist would disagree. After staring a moment longer, I look away, breaking from my trancelike state, better to not dwell on such thoughts. Needless to say, but the shower was much needed, not only to clean the blood and sweat from my skin but to allow me the time to decompress and time to try to think of nothing at all.

I recently had a conversation with a philosopher on a planet known for its bustling and active cities. Sitting next to me at a club that I owned, he assured me that he was happier with his life than I have ever been with my own, simply because I was not in control of my own mind. He challenged me to sit completely still in the busy club and to not think a single thought for just sixty seconds. To force myself to not conjure up even a single word into consciousness, to feel what my body’s senses were capturing and to just simply be in a moment. At the time, I was waiting for the manager to finish handling a customer interaction and so I obliged and attempted his proposed exercise. Much to my dismay, try as I might, I was unable to do what he suggested for even half the time he challenged. Suffice to say that I did not take it well, to say that I had an internal temper tantrum and stormed off would not be too far off the mark. In the weeks since then, I have been putting considerable effort into the exercise whenever I get a free moment, and I can now consistently go for over forty-five seconds before having to refocus and try again.

It is this exercise that I attempt now in the shower, trying to focus only on the water beading up and running down my skin, and the sound of the steam hissing out of the holes dispersed all over the shower walls. These are the only stimuli in my quarters currently, all the rooms on Affinity are sound isolated from the rest of the ship and moments ago I turned off all the lights, leaving the space around me completely and utterly pitch black, as if I were in a deep underground cave, outfitted with a steam shower. After probably ten more minutes of standing in the shower trying to force my apparently weak and wandering brain from doing just that, I have had enough. I close my eyes and turn the lights back on, after a few moments I begin to slowly open them, giving them time to adjust from the complete darkness to the dim warm colored lights I turned on. I turn the water off and warm air rushes in from the top back wall of the shower while a vacuum pulls from the bottom of the wall; simultaneously and forcefully sucking and pushing the steam filled air out of the shower. A moment later when the air is clear of steam, downward angled vents open along the walls and ceiling and strong warm jets of dry air start drying off my skin, pulling the beads of water down to the tile floor. When reasonably dry, I turn off the vents and reach out to unseal and open the door, stepping out of the shower I grab a mint green towel from the closet to the right of the shower and pat down the remaining wet spots before wrapping it around my head for my hair.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Exiting the bathroom into the rest of the open room, I pull back the covers on my bed and lay down, appreciating the smooth friction of the woven satin sheets on my skin. After a few seconds I sit up and rest my head and upper back against a propped-up pillow on the wall. From my bed in the corner of the room, I can see the entrance down on the first level of my quarters through the glass riser that extends about two feet above the edge of the drop-off. I have never really given the open nature of my living space much thought, but in this moment, I feel vulnerable, naked as I am in bed. The memory of Evelyn looking directly up at our visual sensors, what felt like directly at me, creeps into my thoughts. I have never felt threatened on my own ship up until that moment. Something about the cold precision of the look, accompanied by the surety of her threat over our own loudspeakers was unnerving, not to mention that she reached across space and immobilized us. It’s not a pleasant feeling, to feel uneasy in your own home. I slide back down under my covers.