"This is impossible! It's like it wants to stay broken!" Addy cried out, "Who the fuck designed this?"

"You're right," I remarked, "No sensible person would design it like this."

I scanned the room again, hoping I had missed something vital. The room was small and narrow, with metal walls and bright white fluorescents. Two large plastic tubes drooped from the ceiling, side by side, dangling in a lazy arc. Also attached to the ceiling were three circular clasps, spaced out evenly in a line. Flipping a switch on the far side of the room would cause the clasps to open or shut.

The plastic tubes were supposed to be threaded through the three clasps to allow the flow of water and waste. But they weren't threaded, and water and waste were accumulating in the middle of the tubes, causing them to sag further.

Despite this, some of the water was making its way from point A to point B due to the immense water pressure pushing it through. Brad had walked in a few minutes prior, asking if we needed help.

"We need help with that," I said, gesturing to the water blasting through the left tube.

After a few unhelpful words from Addy, Brad departed to take another crack at the water pressure issue.

Now it was Addy and me, struggling to get the tubes into the clasps. We had been struggling for a while.

"Try holding them in the middle again?" I suggested.

Addy walked to the center of the room and pressed both tubes against the ceiling. Water and waste immediately sloshed away from the middle, causing each of the far sides of the tubes to droop. I flipped the switch, and all three clasps shut, the middle one securing the tubes in place.

The outer clasps closed around nothing. Tubes dangled beneath them, accumulating various liquids. I grit my teeth and flipped the switch once more, releasing the tubes.

"I hate to say it, but I think this is a four-person job," Addy said, shaking his sore arms.

I nodded in confirmation, a faint satisfaction tickling me inside.

"Yes, I daresay it is,"

♣

Bad communication skills were an epidemic. I knew this because I was one of the many affected by it. Most of my childhood had been spent playing catch-up with the other kids. Learning how to approach a stranger while other kids my age learned how to approach their crushes. Learning to maintain eye contact. Learning not to stare. I had always been two or three steps behind my peers.

Poor communication was the cause of too many of the world's problems. A lack of communication could end a relationship, or a marriage, or a person's employment. It could lead to disasters, like the loss of the Mars Climate Orbiter. It could lead to war.

I found it annoying how most books, tv shows, and movies pivoted around characters not communicating when they really should. Often, they didn't even have a reason for it. They just didn't, and then suffered the respective consequences.

I wasn't going to let that happen here.

Blaine leaned against the wall, arms folded. While we waited for Addy to return with Brad, I explained the clasp mechanisms.

"Ok," he said, doing his best to look uninterested.

I frowned. Already off to a bad start, and we hadn't even begun. Also, I was fairly certain I had done nothing to deserve this.

I steadied my voice, "I'm sorry if I upset you or offended you earlier. I really think we need to come together; it's important."

"Get real," Blaine said, wrapping his knuckles against the wall, "That won't happen if Addy's involved. Addy doesn't submit to anyone. And if I'm being frank? I think Addy's a dick."

There it was again. Addy and Blaine each thought cooperation was unthinkable because they knew the other person would never budge. In the prisoner's dilemma, each of them would defect and be worse off for it.

"I know you think that. Everyone thinks that. Sometimes I think that," I admitted, "But we're all capable of getting along. Addy will play nice so long as you do, too. When the others get back, I'm going to try something. Can you at least try to go along with it?"

"Depends on that something," Blaine said, noncommittal.

I opened my mouth to explain.

The metal door slid open, and Addy strode in.

"Where's Brad?" I asked, looking past him to the hall.

"I found him in the kitchen and asked whether he fixed the water pressure yet. Nope!" Addy clapped his hands together dramatically, "He didn't know which valve controlled water pressure, so I looked it up on the computer and told him. He should be here after he finishes with that."

"You talk about Brad like he's stupid," Blaine said, "He's not."

Addy smiled like a crazy person, clearly holding himself back. Through tight lips, he said, "Never meant to imply that."

"Oh, but you were thinking it," Blaine said.

Fuck. I needed to get ahead of this conversation before it got worse. But I hadn't planned to start without Brad.

"Was I? Let's stray from making assumptions," Addy said in a pleasant tone that was obviously forced, "We're all pals, here."

"Are we?" Blaine asked.

Fuck. I couldn't wait any longer.

"Maybe we are, maybe we aren't," I began, "What's important is that we-,"

"I'm... done...!" Brad's voice echoed from down the hall.

I pursed my lips, biding my frustration. Had he only arrived half a minute sooner...

Brad jogged into the room, panting and missing a shirt. As he attempted to catch his breath, he looked between his friends and noticed the tension. His face scrunched up in displeasure.

"Ok," I began again, addressing the assembled group, "This repair won't take long at all, but we should also talk."

"Talking is pointless," Blaine asserted, "Let's just get this over with."

He moved to the clasp closest to the door and pushed the tubes against the ceiling.

"Talking is better than fighting. Let's chat," Addy said, a touch too smug. He raised the tubes up to the clasp furthest from the door.

I worried that the conversation was polarizing and charged forward with what I had prepared, "We should be honest about what's bothering us. All of it. For example, I'm frustrated that we still don't know what's going on. Why are we in space? How do we get back home? That's one concern. My other concern is that our group is cracking. Maybe we aren't meant to be friends? Fine, whatever. But lets at least stay united until we can figure this shit out."

Addy nodded seriously, and said, "I agree with that. But on top of that, I want to see some more honesty between the members of the group. No more lies. No more walking away in the middle of a conversation. No more deflecting to a different topic."

I tensed. That had been a targetted response, not a constructive one.

The conversation was already losing traction.

Brad finally realized what everyone was doing and trotted to the middle clasp, lifting the tubes firmly against the ceiling. I made my way to the switch on the wall.

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Blaine took a turn, "I'm willing to stay and talk, and I'm already an honest person. But what I want is an apology. I want to hear Addy apologize to me and to Brad."

The conversation lulled. My hand wavered over the switch for the clasps.

No... Not like this.

Where had I gone wrong? Was this impossible?

I flipped the switch and all three clasps clamped shut around both tubes. Brad yelped when his clasp slammed shut around two of his fingers.

"Apologize for what?" Addy asked, terse.

"If I have to answer that, I'm leaving," Blaine warned gesturing to the hall beyond the door.

Addy fanned his arms out and showed Blaine his palms, "Apologize for what?"

Blaine shook his head and began to turn.

"Blaine," I urged, "Please stay. If it means anything, I'm not sure what you want him to apologize for either. I mean, I get why you're upset, but could you be specific?"

Blaine took a long moment to consider.

"Ok," he said, striding back into the room, "I'll stay. And Addy can apologize for implying that I use my friends. For trying to turn Brad against me. For making fun of Brad behind his back. And for calling me dishonest. Come on, let's hear it."

"What were you saying behind my back?" Brad demanded of Addy.

Blaine answered for him, "He and Alec were saying your movements are all wonky. Comparing you to the Flash."

Brad whirled around to face Blaine, "The Flash? And that made you upset? Man, I wish I was the Flash."

"Quiet, Brad," Addy interjected, needlessly harsh, "Blaine, I want to start by apologizing for an error of judgment. I forgot you were a delicate snowflake."

That did it.

Blaine surged forward, his nimble frame slamming into Addy. Addy took the blow, then grabbed Blaine and used the momentum to flip the assailant over his arm. Blaine fell on his back, and Addy went down on top of him.

I watched, my legs locked in place. My mind still hadn't caught up with the situation. I was still in conflict resolution mode.

It had all happened too fast.

Brad rushed forward, likely to defend Blaine. Addy swatted Brad's reaching hand away and then seized Blaine's arm with both hands, grunting and laughing to himself. Blaine was helpless as Addy took a seat on his chest, using both feet to keep Blaine's other arm pinned.

"Float like a butterfly, sting like a butterfly," Addy taunted his foe, keeping both of his arms locked in place, "You're a fucking butterfly!"

Brad grabbed for Addy's forearms again. Addy caught one of Brad's hands and cranked it clockwise. Brad swore and pulled his hand free, shaking it in pain.

"You know what's different about us, Addy? Me and you?" Blaine strained, kicking his legs uselessly, "People like me! You're going to die alone!"

Addy tightened his grip on Blaine's arm and pulled it across his chest. He was unusually calm as he said, "You wanna say that again? Yeah? Here's a better question. Ever dealt with a broken arm in space?"

"Addy, do not break his arm," I cautioned, regaining control of my senses.

"I'm not gonna break it, Alec. But I'll tell you what I will- hmph!" Addy shouted something incoherent. An unseen force caused his body to jerk, and Blaine used the momentary distraction to free his right arm.

Blaine drove a fist into Addy's groin. Addy groaned, standing and backing away. Blaine also rose, breathing hard.

"He bit me in the ass!" Addy lamented, rubbing the back of his pants.

Blaine formed two fists and began looking for an opening. Before he could find one, a shirtless Brad threw himself between the combatants, head down, extending an arm towards each of them.

"Out of the way, Brad," Blaine ordered, "I'm gonna kick his ass."

"Stay away from my ass!" Addy retorted, managing a comedic tone despite everything.

Brad refused to yield, adjusting his position whenever Blaine tried to dash around him. Admirable. Addy had been wrong about 'us versus them.' It was more nuanced than that. Of course it was.

Earlier I had viewed Brad with fresh eyes. He was acting more mature than his usual. Now, I was beginning to notice other things. Like the two cracks in the corner of his glasses, crisscrossing the right lens.

However, most of my attention was on his lack of a shirt. When had he ditched it? Why was his hair dripping?

I too was missing a shirt. I had sacrificed it to patch the burst pipes. Had Brad done the same?

I looked skyward and saw the water violently sloshing through one of the tubes. It had never slowed down.

Brad still hadn't fixed the water pressure.

"Brad," I said, even though it wasn't the time, "You still haven't fixed the water."

"What? Seriously?" Addy said, "All you had to do was turn the main valve!"

"I did!" Brad protested, "You think I didn't?"

"Clearly not enough," I said, gesturing to the tubes, "If pipes keep bursting and the 'power modulator' gets wet, who knows-,"

A deafening roar assaulted my ears, like the sound of a dozen shotguns being fired at once. It was so terribly loud that I knew it was all I would hear for the rest of the month. Maybe my entire life.

The room shuddered viciously, knocking everyone but myself to the floor. I slammed into the wall, the switch for the clasps penetrating my side. Fortunately, it was plastic. At worse, I had just scored a nasty bruise.

The uproar had originated from somewhere below us. To emphasize this point, warped shards of metal and debris erupted from the floor. Some of them clanged off of the ceiling. Others were large enough to puncture the ceiling and keep going.

One of them nicked me, and I felt wet pain seeping down my leg. A few of them ruptured the tubes we had so painstakingly secured in place.

Addy's mouth was hanging open in a scream, but I heard nothing. A thick metal spike was buried in his upper arm.

The shuddering began to lessen, but the ambient noise from the explosion did not. It seemed to thunder all around us, echoing, increasing and decreasing in pitch. As if it were trapped in the room, fated to tear at our ears for the rest of eternity.

Gradually, I removed myself from the wall. Heavy thrumming pulsed through the walls, threatening my balance.

The moment I put weight on my left leg, it buckled, and I collapsed onto my ass. Fiery pain racked my lower torso, warning of a worse pain if I tried that again. It felt like the bones in my legs were cracking.

I found the source of the discomfort. A scorched and battered scrap of metal was protruding from my thigh. Lucky for me, it hadn't gone deep.

I gathered my willpower, pulled it free, and then pressed my pants against the open wound to prevent further blood flow. I wasn't bothered by the prospect of staining the clothes. Every game came with a fresh wardrobe.

Was this still part of the game? It seemed awfully fucking dangerous for a game. For one thing, Addy was...

I maintained the grip on my thigh as I rose to my feet, no longer hampered by the shard of metal embedded in my muscle. Blaine was also up, crouched next to Addy. Water and brown sludge poured down from the ruptured tubes, splashing out in every direction.

As I inched closer, I saw that he was surveying Addy's arm, deliberating on how to remove the spike. Or maybe deliberating on if he should remove the spike. It was possible that the wrong decision would be lethal.

Blaine tried to tell me something, but the constant echo from the explosion drowned him out. I moved closer, crouching beside him.

"Is it ok to remove it?" he asked, shouting to be heard, "He won't bleed out?"

"Yes! Remove it! Yes!" Addy pleaded, his voice mangled from over-use.

Blaine nodded, then looked to me. I placed a shaking hand over my mouth to signal careful thought. Smoke was pluming in through the many holes in the floor, stinging my eyes. I strained to look at the wound and was relieved at what I saw.

It had definitely looked worse from farther away.

"We'll never be 100% sure! Just do it!" I shouted.

Blaine nodded, took off his shirt, and laid it across the floor so that he could retrieve it at a moments notice. Next, he held Addy's forearm down, and used the other to-

I looked away. I couldn't watch.

Instead, I looked at the floor, at the centimeter wide hole that the spike had shot through. Past the smoke, I could see the flickering of orange, yellow, and white light. Was it fire? Were we still in danger?

There was a larger hole a few meters away.

Addy unleashed another scream of agony, and this time I heard it. The reverberating roar was finally subsiding.

I chanced a glance at the others. Blaine was hastily wrapping his shirt around Addy's bicep. Brad remained on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes were open and his chest was rising and falling. Not dying. Not in pain. But also not assisting. Then again, what more could be done?

There had to be something. Something useful I could do. I couldn't stand to do nothing.

I did manage to come up with something, but it was weak.

Information.

I looked again at the large hole.

Still clutching my thigh, I waddled over to the hole and crouched beside it, peering through the fist-sized breach.

Whatever had exploded was entirely gone. A cloud of debris floated in the space below the floor, illuminated by the white light of...

I wasn't sure what I was looking at. The earth and the stars were still vaguely visible, but they were hidden behind a translucent white film. It was like seeing an image through tinted glass, only there was no glass. Only light.

The white film glowed with the same brightness as the fluorescents above, and yet it didn't hurt to look at. In fact, it felt good, like my eyes were being healed. I no longer felt the sting of the smoke.

Stranger yet, the film seemed to drift at the gentle pace of a cloud floating across the sky. I noticed a slight curvature to the translucent covering...

And I connected the dots, comprehending what I was seeing. The white film wasn't flat. It was round, spherical, surrounding the space station in a protective bubble. It probably accounted for why we were still able to breathe. It was keeping the air from being sucked out into space.

It also served to baffle me. This was unlike anything I had seen before. Another new and peculiar technology.

The word bounced around in my head and gave renewed life to a theory I had subconsciously discarded.

Ted Lax was an innovator with big plans for humanity and their future. He had named his four towers after the four things he believed would bring humanity into their next great era. One of the pillars represented what I was seeing now: new and revolutionary technology.

The Pillar of Technology.

Brad's tower.