Things inevitably began to fall apart.

My introspective spell shattered at the sound of a gunshot. My body tensed, frozen in place. I dropped a hand to my waist, grabbed the muzzle of a notagun, re-adjusted my grip, and then drew it from its holster. My left hand repeated the action with the other notagun.

The guns were non-lethal of course. But that didn't matter. Any weapon I picked up became non-lethal.

I looked around, reorienting my body. The shot had come from a room just ahead of me. An open doorway along the left wall loomed, a mix of orange and red light seeping out and coloring the opposite wall.

What now? Do I engage? Do I run for help?

There wasn't time to go and get help. Not if Brad was in danger.

I resolved to investigate the situation. I knew I wasn't capable of creeping up to the doorway without making a sound, so I walked towards it at a casual pace, pausing at the edge of the doorway.

Despite my acknowledged lack of skill, I tried to stealthily peek into the room. But the adrenaline of the moment was making me jumpy. Instead, I slipped and fell into the room, forearms extended, bracing my fall. My hands twitched as I crashed against the floor, and both of my weapons skidded away from me.

Wow. I'm fucking dead.

I bit back the impulse to swear, and then I noticed what had actually caused me to fall.

The room was flooded with an inch of water. Brad stood amidst the flood, staring at a wall of brass pipes, blinking profusely. One of the pipes had burst and was spraying clear liquid against the ceiling in a heavy plume. A flashing lamp above cast the entire scene in dim red light.

“How do we shut the water off?” Brad shrieked, the words flowing out of his mouth at an inhuman pace, his arms pumping back and forth rapidly.

Not a gunshot, then. The bursting of a pipe. I hated that I hadn't recognized the distinction.

“We-,” I said, getting up from the floor, “Wait, no, not a good idea. We can't shut the water off if we don’t know what the water is for.”

The water was obviously important if there was a dedicated room with an entire wall of pipes. Was it generating power? Serving as the coolant for a centrifuge?

“Oh? So we should just let it flood everything?” Brad’s asked. His voice was annoyingly squeaky. Something was off.

I scoured the room for something useful. Pipes on the right, a large cylindrical tank on the left. The tank was white, humming and vibrating. Black text painted on the side read: ‘Power Modulator.’

Having discovered nothing which I could use to patch the leak, I remembered to search my pockets. It was then that I noticed the new clothes I was wearing - a crisp yellow shirt and black joggers.

I slid the shirt up my torso and pulled it over my head, then dashed to the burst pipe. I wrapped the shirt tight around the pipe four times, tied a knot, and then tied another for extra security. Tight.

Fixed.

The spray ceased, but the fix was not perfect. Bubbles forced their way through the shirt and sweated onto the floor in a continuous stream.

Temporarily fixed.

“I think the water pressure might be too high,” I guessed, “If we don’t adjust it, more pipes will burst.”

“How the hell do we do that?” Brad asked. His voice and movements had returned to normal.

I collected my notaguns and dried them against my pants.

“I don't know, but I know how we can find out. Follow me.”

♦

The pedestal next to the computer desk had a new interface. It no longer showed the power-moves grid. In its place, the top surface displayed a map of the space station.

I looked over my shoulder, saw Blaine leaning over me. Very much inside my personal space. It made it hard to concentrate. Still, I managed to refocus my attention on the map.

The curved hallway formed the outer ring of the structure. Within the ring was a cluster of rooms, with doorways connecting to each other in no particular pattern. The rooms had wonky shapes, fitting together in a jumbled puzzle. It was surprising that a government - or a team of governments - would pour billions of dollars into building this space station without the help of a skilled architect. The rooms were labeled in white text: kitchen, control room, hydroponics, living quarters...

Orange alert symbols had started to pop up on the map. One of them was centered on the room Brad and I had just left. Two more had appeared on the far side of the vessel. According to the game manual, the alerts would turn red if they were not addressed in a timely manner. If too many symbols turned red, the space station would stop functioning and the game would end.

At which point we would be rescued, I hoped. This simulation seemed awfully dangerous, not to mention expensive.

The orange symbols flashed. I sent Brad to solve the water pressure issue, pointing to a room labeled ‘Plumbing.’

Blaine moved to follow.

“Wait, Blaine. There’s something I need to show you,” I called.

Blaine stopped, looked up at the ceiling for a moment - annoyed - and then returned to the map pedestal where Addy and I were standing.

“Hurry up. I need to catch up to Brad.”

“It's about Brad, actually," I began, "I noticed something was off about him.”

Addy raised his eyebrows, “It's about time. Which something-off did you notice? His laugh, which sounds like he’s choking on his lunch? His misplaced trust? His list of priorities, which is completely backward? The way-,”

“Addy, stop,” Blaine warned, his tone cold.

“Stop what? Stating the obvious?”

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Stop being a dick."

No. Not this again.

"So you agree with me, but you don't approve of what? My delivery?"

"I agree that you need to stop being a dick."

I shook my head, “Guys, I'm serious! There's something wrong with Brad. When I found him, I saw exactly what Addy meant by ‘tweaking out.’”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Blaine interrupted, “He’s fine.”

“Um. No. Ok, you- listen," I fumbled for a focal point, "Just listen. I'm not agreeing with Addy, here. Not in the way you think. I noticed something when I found Brad, and I noticed it again when we were walking here. He was moving fast and kept slowing down to wait for me to catch up. After the second instance of this happening, I trained my focus on him and that’s when I noticed it. His idle swaying, the frequency of his blinks, even his breathing - they were all accelerated. The best way I can describe it is that he's moving in fast-forward. Like the Flash, but slower. And only sometimes.”

“Ok. Thank you for the report,” Blaine remarked, turning to walk away.

He didn't believe me.

“Blaine, I’m serious," I said, begging him to stop, "I don’t usually try to explain things using... ah...,”

“Conspiracy theories,” Addy said, touting one of his favorite terms.

“Sure. That fits, sort of. But I don't! I value sanity and rational explanations; the simplest explanation is usually true! But I know what I saw, and I’m more certain than uncertain of this explanation!”

“Wow, you’re smart. Congratulations," Blaine said, monotone, "Can I go now?”

My body tensed, and my brain switched gears.

He wasn't listening. He was being unreasonably aggressive. This was what 'being a dick' looked like, though I wasn't discounting Addy's behavior.

Before I could say something I’d regret, Addy put a hand on my shoulder, “Blaine, you need to chill. Alec is just trying to stay on top of things. You and I have this feud going - and it's cute, it really is - but Alec has all of our backs.”

Yes. Thank you.

“Yeah, I know he has our backs. But I fucking hate when you two bully Brad,” Blaine asserted, “He’s not moving in ‘fast-forward.’ He doesn’t have ‘misplaced trust.’ He’s nervous. Probably terrified. You two need to be more supportive.”

He didn’t look nervous when we learned we were in space. I can't say the same for you, Blaine.

“Ok, two things,” Addy fired back, “One, he does have misplaced trust. I already proved that definitively. Two, Alec knows what he’s talking about. That's why I believe him! If you won't listen, then that's just you being ignorant. And three- hey, don’t walk away from me!”

This time, Blaine walked through the door frame and into the hall, showing no signs of hesitation. I called out for him too but to no avail.

Addy and I watched him go, and I felt the divide between friends expanding. Addy had pushed Brad away and now the same was happening with Blaine. By siding with Addy on this one issue, I had pushed Blaine away as well. Next, Blaine would tell Brad that we were talking behind his back, and the schism would stretch further.

I needed to get ahead of this problem, but I couldn't. It wasn't in my skillset.

I wrapped my arms around my chest and squeezed, exerting pressure until my arms felt sore. When I released, my muscles relaxed, and some of the tension subsided. It somehow felt good.

I squeezed again.

“He’s such a fucking dumbass,” Addy remarked, in a volume that Blaine would definitely hear.

"No he's not," I said, just as loud, before lowering my voice and saying, "He can still hear you."

"Yeah, no fucking shit," Addy said, shaking his head.

I cocked my head to the side to signal confusion, and then said, “Do you get what I was trying to say? It will make more sense if you watch Brad closely.”

“Yeah, I get it. That's sort of what I saw too, but I couldn't really describe it.”

“Good."

It felt good to be believed.

I returned my gaze to the map pedestal and tapped on one of the blinking alert symbols, an orange exclamation point within a triangle. A tiny message appeared under the symbol, which read: 'Damage to hull'.

With this in mind, I walked over to the computer desk and searched through the list of repair guides. I found one for 'meteorite damage' and began reading.

“Hey, don’t listen to Blaine by the way. You never said anything out of line. That was all me,” Addy stated.

I nodded, my eyes still on the computer screen, “Yeah, I know. I just wish everyone was capable of getting along."

"Yeah, me too!" Addy said, "But Blaine won't cool it ever since I called him out! Like, big deal, right? He betrayed his friend. Everyone witnessed it. Now own up to it and move on!"

"He's not going to. You know that, right?" I asked, still reading.

"Yeah, and I think that's pathetic. I own up to my shit! All the fucking time!"

"Does this even matter?"

"It matters to me! And it's not even about whether he owns up to it or not. It's about the kind of person he is underneath. I think he enjoys having a scapegoat, and I've always been that goat because I'm the classic asshole."

Addy was getting analytical now, which made it harder to focus on reading.

Addy continued, "I'm Brad's goat too. Think about it! This is reverse bullying, in a sense. Because now Blaine's gonna milk this fucking goat until he has enough for an entire cheese wheel! Whine and cheese, Alec, whine and cheese are all they are!"

I quirked my eyebrows, pulling myself away from the computer. Reading was impossible, and Addy wouldn't stop rambling until I cut him off.

I took a second to look at him. Addy was leaning against the map pedestal, periodically kicking his shoe against the base. Brimming with energy.

"What am I supposed to say to that?" I finally asked him.

"I dunno. I could use a different metaphor if you like. Instead of a scapegoat, maybe a doormat? One that says 'Fuck You' instead of Welcome. And Blaine and Brad have dirt on their shoes and need somewhere to wipe-,"

"That's alright. I don't need another metaphor," I said, cutting him off.

Addy pouted his lips, "Geez, alright. Tell me your own thoughts, then?"

"Okay," I started. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and then said, "Whoever put us here has an overwhelming amount of influence and control. I’m not sure if we’ll go somewhere else after this space station, but if we do, we need to focus on escaping. We can’t do that if our group is fracturing.”

It felt good to speak about what was troubling me. To release the ideas from my head into the world.

I just barely caught Addy roll his eyes, "There's no 'group' anymore. Hasn't been for years. It's us versus them, now. That's how they see it - however unfortunate - and so that's how it's going to be."

No.

A knee-jerk reaction, maybe. But he was wrong.

I tapped on another alert icon. 'Oxygen filters need replacing.' Then I returned to the computer, and said, "That's where we are heading, but we're not there yet. We can still fix the group dynamic. Work out the kinks. Resolve."

Addy laughed, "Ah, Alec. Alone on your mountain of ideals. You're giving Blaine and Brad too much credit! It has always been us versus them. They have deeper bonds, went to a different high school, and have never been open with us. Even now, they conspire against us."

The instructions for replacing oxygen filters were brief and to the point. Intuitive-

I was distracting myself. Why was that? Was it because I agreed with Addy, just a little?

Sure, what he was saying scared me. I didn't want to lose some of my only friends. But the magnitude of what he was suggesting was wrong.

I closed the computer window and gave Addy my full attention. He was still idly kicking the map pedestal.

"We're friends," I said firmly, "We can fix this. You and Blaine can talk this out. I'll serve as a mediator."

Addy scoffed, "Yeah, ok. I'd be willing to try that, but don't get your hopes up. For one thing, you can't be an effective mediator when it's us versus them."

"You'll try then?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll try, for all the good that it will do."

I nodded.

Good. This was progress.

Next, I motioned for him to come with me, and we began following a route to the far side of the vessel. Addy traced a finger along the metal of the hull for the duration of the trip.

As we walked, I digested some of what Addy had said. The more I considered his argument, the more everything fell into place. I hated to admit it, but his ideas explained a lot.

I no longer felt good about where things were going. Addy was a skeptic, far more pessimistic than me, and I viewed that as a strength. Viewing the world through his cynical eyes sucked - he had a knack for seeing the worst in people. But he was usually right about people. Most of the time. And maybe this time, too.

He had been right about Blaine during the business simulation.

If he was right about this, and my intervention failed, I wasn't sure what I would do.

I glanced over at Addy, who was now drumming his knuckles against the wall as we walked. We were entirely different machines - him and I - with different methods, abilities, and approaches to conflict.

But our functions were aligned. We both assigned a high value to truth. We both knew that we would have to escape our captors when the opportunity came.

Which is why, underneath it all, I knew he wanted to fix the group just as much as me.