It's a Hot Bunk Life

Posted on Wed 14th Dec, 2022 @ 4:10pm by Greg Decker

955 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: A Fresh Perspective
Location: Brown Sector, Deck 2246
Timeline: MD 13, 1630

Another day, another bit of latinum Greg thought, as he entered the small flat he shared with 7 others. The night shift was up, moving around, but only Aaron of the day shift had returned home before him. He set the paper bag with his meal on the table for four in the back corner, then stretched his arms toward the ceiling, bending back and forth at the waist.

"Hard day?" asked Aaron, seated at the table already.

"Oh, about the same as always," Decker replied, sitting down across from his roommate. He couldn't call him a friend, exactly, though they'd known each other for three years. Living in close quarters, he probably knew things about the man that Aaron's mother didn't, but that didn't make them friends. Greg was driven to change his life, and he didn't make time to know anyone on a level deep enough to be called friendship.

"I was thinking about taking in a holo show. You interested?" Aaron asked.

Greg actually thought about it a moment, but then shook his head. "Nah, I'm tired. I think I'll read for a while after I eat and clean up, maybe head to bed a little early." He was lucky to have that option. Though the rent cost him a little more, the 8 men sharing the apartment had decided not to accept a third shift of bunkers. To seven of them, this was almost the lap of luxury. Ambition was not something that thrived among hot bunking residents of the sector. To Greg, there was more to life, and he was going to have it. He was almost there!

"Up to you, but you need a little fun in your life," Aaron said, getting up to toss his trash in the recycler every apartment had, no matter how small. "You're becoming a slave to that dream of yours."

Decker smiled at his roommate, having heard variations on this theme the entire time they'd been roommates. He opened his bag and pulled out the hasperat he'd bought from a street vendor in the bazaar. Though not Bajoran, growing up among the Maquis had taught him not to be a picky eater, and to eat the foods of many cultures.

"Enjoy your holo," he said, as Aaron shook his head and walked away.

As he ate his solitary meal, Greg listened to his other roommates coming and going as they got ready for their evening plans, followed by their jobs. It worked out nicely that both working shifts had some time for life, as well as time for sleeping. Greg liked the quieter hours of morning, and was often the first up, long before the night shift returned. He liked working when most of the world was up and going about its business.

Two years, now, he'd been working as a zookeeper at the San Diego Wildlife Zone with Red Pandas. He felt there must have been some God intervening on his behalf for the job to fall to him, and he loved what he did. He'd become one of the most knowledgeable about the animals, and they seemed to have an affinity for him, too. He was grateful for the job, and grateful that it was such a pleasant occupation, though not without its heartbreaks, as the animals were prone to several common animal diseases.

He finished his meal, recycled his garbage, and walked over to his bunk, a top one he shared with a man named Alonzo. The bunks were cubicles that stood away from the walls and each had two thumb-locking drawers underneath for private possessions. Greg nodded to his bunkmate and unlocked his drawer, the left one, to retrieve his book reader. It was his only extravagance in the three years he'd lived there, but he couldn't be without books. Fortunately, Brown Sector had a lending library extension from the main base library, so he was never without something to read, so long as the reader didn't break.

Decker knew he was a tech throwback, but the readers were so portable, less expensive than PADDs, and convenient. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. He'd ventured up to the Promenade to a place called Bits 'n Bytes and bought it from a blue-skinned man he thought was called Andorian. He'd enjoyed their conversation, though Greg was not particularly into technology or the latest gadget. He couldn't afford to be, but he also simply wasn't interested, taking what conveniences he could find, build or afford to buy, but not being consumed by pursuit of them.

Settling down on what passed as a divan most of the time, and a spare bed some of the time, Greg powered up his reader and began where he'd left off. He hadn't wanted to spend the money for a holoprojector, and the Andorian had suggested this lower tech for him. Since he was educated in Federation-style Maquis schools, reading was a skill he had acquired early and enjoyed. The world was open to you if you could read, and you didn't have to depend on access to computers or databases ... except a library, which was low level security.

For a moment, Decker thought about the future he'd been building toward, and that it was only a few weeks away, at last. His own place. Living in Perry Gardens like anyone else on the base. When his mother had joined the refugees being taken to 109, she hadn't registered their relationship to the Maquis. It was a confused time of war, with many refugees from the Cardassian aggression. They looked human, because they were, and no one questioned their loss of identification in the turbulent times. His past was dead. His future was finally coming to him.

 

RSS Feed