Day 94: Free Will

        And the beat goes on.
        I need a toaster, a cookbook, and a dictionary.
        I have became the person I wanted to be a lot quicker than anticipated.  Now, how to exploit it for money.  Must obey laws of society.


          
     

            Space Cowboy flicked on the switch on the box shaped tube radio.  He hit the thing on the side and it stopped making its warbling noise.  Then, he turned the knobs on both sides until the language was recognizably English.  He was uncertain why English was the language he spoke.  He could feel a source controlling his actions from somewhere, but this allowed him to rationalize the actions of his existence.

            Thoughts of New Dallas clouded his mind.  The endless highways, the surrounding islands of suburban sprawl.  Maybe that Kenny Rogers Roasters was still there, the last one in the galaxy, he could get one of their enormous thighs to bite into.  He looked over at the fridge; he knew without opening it that it was completely empty.  His stomach gurgled with defiance.

“How much longer can we let these Space Liberals run the Universe?”  The radio came back into focus.  It was Sterling Marlin, that old scatterbrained firebrand.  His suspension for what he said about the equal rights laws must have ended.  “That was one of our most prominent outposts, and now any rascal can fly their ship into it.  No protocols, nothing… It’s a free trade zone.  This is your America.”

“Weird he still talks about America in terms of the entire galaxy.”  The ships robot voice said.

“Could have sworn I programmed you to stop making intellectual comments,”  Space Cowboy said, pushing himself up against his knees and fiddling with the ships artifical intelligence screen with a lazy right arm.  The unique features of the programmed face softened and smoothed out, soon it looked like just an ordinary set of eyes, a basic nose, and a full lipped mouth.

“We’re going to have to pause her, John, we have a certain obligation to our sponsors.”  The radio host said.  They went to an indefinite stream of commercials, Space Cowboy allowing the white noise to fill his head.  He pictured the man inside floating in an intertube inside a little swimming pool.  The mans wife and kids were upstairs in the hotel room, maybe screwing around with pay per view or ordering room service, but it did not concern the little man.  The pool lights shut off and the clorine smell became more pronounced as the lights dimmed, but he refused to wake up.

The recycled water in the latrine washed over a disgustin Space Cowboy.  He peeled his knee high socks off over the knee pads, squeezed out of his rigid Mad Max body armor and laid in the oversized utility sink heaving.  His arms were sagging where their used to be muscles, the stringly flesh hanging off the oversized bone.

“Autopilot is fine.”  He told the computer, its changed face compliant.  “Autopilot!  New Dallas!”  The lobotomized mainframe acknowledged him with a huff.  They had already been on the way to New Dallas, but it knew better than to tell him that. 

“Can we stop by the Fourth Sun?  There is heat there for me.  I function on heat.”  The voice said to deaf ears.  Space Cowboys head was underwater, with his arms sitting on the sharp sides of the utility sink.  Like a giant in a roofless little car.  “You can hear me perfectly well under there.”  

Space Cowboy reached to the bottom of the sink and pulled out a shampoo bottle.  He unloaded a hand full of goo into his hair, throwing the bottle on the floor.  Just when he began his sensual self caress, a steam whistle went off and he jumped, splashing water over the sensitive equipment.  Droplets of dirty water dotted the screens.  Space Cowboy splashed his way over to where the towel was supposed to be hanging, shampoo covering his eyes and face.  There was no towel there, so he leaned in close to the super powered fan that cooled the engine.  He was brought back to when he was in the war, his sleep constantly interrupted by bullhorns and mortars.

He grabbed blindly for his same shitty outfit, reapplying his suspenders and undershirt.  He looked at his face in the mirror and looked away and then back up again, like there was a foreigner staring back at him.  The shampoo in his hair made him look like an amaciated Santa.

“Boarding!”  The robot voice yelled.  “Prepare to board!”

Space Cowboy put his hands on the top ledge of the outlooking porthole and peered through the tiny window.  He felt like a squirrel trapped inside a tree. A black junk collector ship had him in its tractor beam.  He could see the old disconnected dots of the out of date of tractor beams tugging at the hull, nagging him towards it.  It looked like those broken lines from connect the dots were trying to incorporate him into their coloring book.

Space Cowboy pried the glass window open with his rough hands and called to the men decked out in full black suits outside. 

“Hey!  Shit for brains!”  He said, his skin crawling with excitement.  “This is a private vessel.  If you check my plates you’ll see that…”

The men took off their black robes to reveal blue policemen suits.  Each had a blue police cap with a black bill and tinted sunglasses.  Their moustaches were broomlike.

“Oh, oh, no!”  Space Cowboy said, slamming the window grating right before the lasers started poring towards him from the six shooter style guns.  They didn’t break their gazes up as they continued to unload. A taser clinged on the window, turning the pane bright blue.  Space Cowboy splashed it with water from the bathtub, which wouldn’t reach that far.  The droplets shined in the air with an extra blue blue.

“This can’t be happening.  They couldn’t find me here.  In space!”

Space Cowboy spun in a circle on the linoleum floor, his heels squeeking.  He was too late, his door had swung open, a midget with a gold necklace was falling through backwards with its tiny Trex arms swinging wildly in the air.  He didn’t know whether to catch it before it fell or stomp it’s brain out after it landed on its head.