Free Origin by Jack Kilborn

mess.”
    “What do you think Bub was speaking? Was that Maya?”
    “Kind of. There are more than twenty different dialects that descended from the Maya language, I think Bub was speaking one of them. We’re allowed to have Internet access, right?”
    “Sure. It’s monitored somehow, I’m guessing. For security. There are three computers you can use in the Octopus, the Cray in Red 14, and there’s a room in the Green Arm, Green 4, with a link if you want privacy.”
    Andy stared at the capsule, apparently lost in thought.
    “Hungry?” Sun asked.
    “Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I am actually.”
    “We all pretty much fend for ourselves around here, except when Race cooks up a batch of chili or stew. Want to grab an early dinner?”
    Andy grinned. “Sure. But only if it’s not mutton.”
    Sun led Andy to the Mess Hall and began to school him on the intricacies of microwave defrosting. From the massive walk-in freezer they selected some boneless chicken breast, cauliflower, pea pods, and green peppers. After thawing, Sun showed off her substantial wok skills.
    Whenever Sun cooked, she thought of her mother, and how embarrassed of her she was while growing up. Her friends’ mothers baked cookies and went to the PTA and had college educations. Sun’s mom spoke heavily accented, grammatically incorrect English, and wove baskets. The childhood taunts and teases were unrelenting.
    Sun now realized what a graceful, introspective woman her mother had been. Hopefully she’d find that same inner peace some day. But even if she never did, her mother had passed a trickle of her wisdom on to her daughter: Sun could wok like a fiend.
    Dinner conversation with Andy was upbeat and impersonal. He knew an alarmingly large number of dumb blonde jokes, and rattled off two or three good ones that almost made Sun choke on her stir fry. Dessert was a large can of fruit cocktail, dumped rather inelegantly into a mixing bowl.
    They shared the bowl.
    “So, I take it you’ve decided to stay.”
    “I don’t think I’ll be present at any more feedings, but yeah, I’m staying. I’m not captivated by Bub like some of the others are, but I can’t pass up the challenge he represents.”
    Sun offered her hand. “Well then, welcome aboard, Andrew Dennison.”
    “Glad to be here, Sunshine Jones.”
    They shook, but Andy didn’t drop her hand. The moment stretched. Sun watched Andy’s pupils widen, wondered if hers were doing the same thing. They’d gone from zero to intimacy in less than five seconds.
    Fast. Too fast.
    Sun took her hand back.
    “Andy…”
    “Sorry…”
    “It’s just that…”
    “I know.”
    An uncomfortable silence ensued.
    “Are my ears red?” he asked.
    They were the same shade as a fire hydrant.
    “No. They’re fine.”
    “I think I’m gonna call it a night. Low on sleep. Excuse me.”
    He stood up and walked to the door. Halfway there he touched his ear and stopped.
    “They are red, aren’t they?” he asked without turning around.
    “You could stop traffic,” Sun said.
    Andy left without another word. There was some fruit cocktail left, but Sun was no longer hungry. She dumped it down the disposal and went back to her room.
    Alone.

S un woke up at half past nine in the morning. She’d always been an early riser, a fact that she recently discovered was dependent on sunlight. With no morning sun to wake her up, she’d been sleeping later than normal. One more thing to dislike about being two hundred feet underground.
    After her exercises and a quick shower, she stopped by the Mess Hall, half-hoping Andy was there. He wasn’t. She made herself a bowl of shredded wheat with vacuum-packed milk and frozen strawberries, but only picked at it.
    Sun wasn’t exactly sure what she was feeling. Andy was attractive, and found her attractive, but this wasn’t exactly the time or place to start a relationship. She felt flattered, and annoyed, and disappointed all at once.
    Romance sucked,
she decided. It was much