Spoiler! :
Your story is about a doctor in a futuristic space station watching ballet.
Spoiler! :
Dave sat in the communications room. With each breath, more of the stale air filtered through his system. The screen flickered with light. Across his face, bluish flashes glided and jittered.
"Anna..."
She swirled and swirled and swirled, the pink of her tutu forming a disc about her waist. He crept closer to the screen, a few of his hairs raising and jutting towards the screen.
"Anna..."
His hand rose slowly and he placed it against the glass. It was cold to his touch. She continued to swirl on an endless, silent loop.
"Pause."
The ballerina stopped, jittering slightly.
"Play, end loop."
She now stopped swirling and pirouetted, her chubby arms lifted towards the heavens. She now came down. The clumsy, bumbling dance was over. She tried to bow and fell backwards. The camera shook. Whoever was recording it had laughed. Dave bit the back of his hand, the tears rolling down his cheeks and puddling with the blood around his teeth, their slight salinity stinging somewhat.
"Rewind."
The motions happened all in reverse until the ballerina was now simply standing there.
"Play."
The words were barely a whisper. The voice recognition software failed to detect it. He spoke up this time, choking on his words.
"P....Play."
The video began again. Dave sat back in his chair. The ballerina was confused, looked at her fellow dancers, trying to catch up to them. He chuckled, choking back the hard lump in his throat. She tried valiantly to speed through the motions of the dance but kept getting more and more confused. He laughed this time, smiled. She stopped trying. The other ballerinas began spinning now, so she did too. Spinning and spinning and spinning. They stopped, and she pirouetted again, wobbling from the disorientation of spinning. The bow again. The tumble. The shaky camera. Dave could no longer handle it.
He collapsed to his hands and knees, the brushed steel office chair still swiveling in his absence. He cried, tears puddling on the sterile plastic floor beneath him.
"BODILY FLUID DETECTED"
The floor under him began to glow red hot, the tears boiling away.
"BODILY FLUID SPILL STERILISED"
Dave fell to his side, sobs shaking his body.
"Anna...oh, Anna..."
Minutes passed, turned into hours. Dave rose and returned to his chair. It too was cold to the touch.
"Video 2, play."
Now the same small ballerina stood on stage, now longer adorned in a pink tutu, but a purple unitard with gossamer butterfly wings attached to her back. She and the other ballerinas stumbled around the stage, waggling their arms. Dave struggled to stand, pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the screen, and watched blurry ballerinas hop around carelessly. They smiled, their bright eyes searching for their families in the crowds.
He slid down against the wall and pulled his knees into his chest. His head flopped down against his knees. He slept. In his dream, the same dream he'd had for months now, the ballerina beckoned for him with outstretched arms. He waved to her. Her face fell. He said they'd see each other again in no time. He promised. Then the throngs of people enveloped her small face. He wanted to turn, to scream he loved her. To tell her it was all going to be all right. But he kept walking away. Miles away. Years away.
Dave's eyes opened with a jolt, the harsh light of the room burning them. He rubbed his eyes, attempting to rid himself of the physical pain. The mental pain, on the other hand, was incurable. Dave needed drugs to banish it. The computer system kept all the drugs locked away unless a patient needed it.
The patients wouldn't need them. They were dead. All of them. Just like their family members. Just like the Earth. Just like Dave's precious Anna, his ballerina, his sweet young daughter who he watched dance over and over again. Endlessly, she twirled on the small screen, and all Dave could do was watch. He couldn't tell her how much he loved her, how it was all going to be okay. Nothing. He could do nothing but watch.
"Computer. Video 1, loop."
He collapsed into his chair again. The small ballerina twirled happily. Dave managed a weak smile. It was better than nothing, at least. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to suppress the tears. He failed, the small droplets spilling out underneath the dam of flesh. The puffy, red eyes opened quickly as he attempted to blink them away. The screen once more caught his eye. Still, his ballerina twirled happily. It was her big present to Daddy before he headed off to the hospital in the sky. The computer blared its daily warning at him.
"BLOOD SUGAR LEVELS: DANGEROUSLY LOW. HYDRATION: INADEQUATE. AVERAGE DAILY CALORIC INTAKE: 50. SUBJECT NEEDS IMMEDIATE ATTENTION BEFORE SUBJECT DIES OF MALNOURISHMENT."
Dave looked at the granola bar the computer dispensed for him to eat. He tossed it across the station. Dave was ready for death. Ready to go to sleep and not wake up. Ready to be free of this hell.
Ready to be with his little girl.
"Anna..."
She swirled and swirled and swirled, the pink of her tutu forming a disc about her waist. He crept closer to the screen, a few of his hairs raising and jutting towards the screen.
"Anna..."
His hand rose slowly and he placed it against the glass. It was cold to his touch. She continued to swirl on an endless, silent loop.
"Pause."
The ballerina stopped, jittering slightly.
"Play, end loop."
She now stopped swirling and pirouetted, her chubby arms lifted towards the heavens. She now came down. The clumsy, bumbling dance was over. She tried to bow and fell backwards. The camera shook. Whoever was recording it had laughed. Dave bit the back of his hand, the tears rolling down his cheeks and puddling with the blood around his teeth, their slight salinity stinging somewhat.
"Rewind."
The motions happened all in reverse until the ballerina was now simply standing there.
"Play."
The words were barely a whisper. The voice recognition software failed to detect it. He spoke up this time, choking on his words.
"P....Play."
The video began again. Dave sat back in his chair. The ballerina was confused, looked at her fellow dancers, trying to catch up to them. He chuckled, choking back the hard lump in his throat. She tried valiantly to speed through the motions of the dance but kept getting more and more confused. He laughed this time, smiled. She stopped trying. The other ballerinas began spinning now, so she did too. Spinning and spinning and spinning. They stopped, and she pirouetted again, wobbling from the disorientation of spinning. The bow again. The tumble. The shaky camera. Dave could no longer handle it.
He collapsed to his hands and knees, the brushed steel office chair still swiveling in his absence. He cried, tears puddling on the sterile plastic floor beneath him.
"BODILY FLUID DETECTED"
The floor under him began to glow red hot, the tears boiling away.
"BODILY FLUID SPILL STERILISED"
Dave fell to his side, sobs shaking his body.
"Anna...oh, Anna..."
Minutes passed, turned into hours. Dave rose and returned to his chair. It too was cold to the touch.
"Video 2, play."
Now the same small ballerina stood on stage, now longer adorned in a pink tutu, but a purple unitard with gossamer butterfly wings attached to her back. She and the other ballerinas stumbled around the stage, waggling their arms. Dave struggled to stand, pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the screen, and watched blurry ballerinas hop around carelessly. They smiled, their bright eyes searching for their families in the crowds.
He slid down against the wall and pulled his knees into his chest. His head flopped down against his knees. He slept. In his dream, the same dream he'd had for months now, the ballerina beckoned for him with outstretched arms. He waved to her. Her face fell. He said they'd see each other again in no time. He promised. Then the throngs of people enveloped her small face. He wanted to turn, to scream he loved her. To tell her it was all going to be all right. But he kept walking away. Miles away. Years away.
Dave's eyes opened with a jolt, the harsh light of the room burning them. He rubbed his eyes, attempting to rid himself of the physical pain. The mental pain, on the other hand, was incurable. Dave needed drugs to banish it. The computer system kept all the drugs locked away unless a patient needed it.
The patients wouldn't need them. They were dead. All of them. Just like their family members. Just like the Earth. Just like Dave's precious Anna, his ballerina, his sweet young daughter who he watched dance over and over again. Endlessly, she twirled on the small screen, and all Dave could do was watch. He couldn't tell her how much he loved her, how it was all going to be okay. Nothing. He could do nothing but watch.
"Computer. Video 1, loop."
He collapsed into his chair again. The small ballerina twirled happily. Dave managed a weak smile. It was better than nothing, at least. He shut his eyes as tightly as he could, trying to suppress the tears. He failed, the small droplets spilling out underneath the dam of flesh. The puffy, red eyes opened quickly as he attempted to blink them away. The screen once more caught his eye. Still, his ballerina twirled happily. It was her big present to Daddy before he headed off to the hospital in the sky. The computer blared its daily warning at him.
"BLOOD SUGAR LEVELS: DANGEROUSLY LOW. HYDRATION: INADEQUATE. AVERAGE DAILY CALORIC INTAKE: 50. SUBJECT NEEDS IMMEDIATE ATTENTION BEFORE SUBJECT DIES OF MALNOURISHMENT."
Dave looked at the granola bar the computer dispensed for him to eat. He tossed it across the station. Dave was ready for death. Ready to go to sleep and not wake up. Ready to be free of this hell.
Ready to be with his little girl.
And there it is.
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