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TIRSDAG, 15 MARS, 2011
The Adventures of Captain Radio - Part I: "Alabama Inn"
As Captain Radio set his feet down on the dusty lunar surface, he instantly knew that it was going to be a long night. The doors of the monorail wagon slammed shut without making a sound and then it slowly started its glide into light speed again. The stop that Captain Radio decided to make on New Alabama (formerly known as the moon), is the last stop on the monorail before Earth. The next departure was not until the morning after, but Captain Radio figured he would postpone his journey to Earth with one night of quietly drinking his coffee in a solitary booth of the Alabama Inn. The Inn is the only structure still in use on New Alabama. Everything else has been left empty after the tourists stopped coming. No one even says New Alabama anymore. Since old Alabama on Earth closed, the “new” in New Alabama sort of became obsolete, so now everyone calls it plan Alabama.
Whilst walking on the lunar soil towards the Inn, Captain Radio could not help but to notice the depressing sight of the Earth; floating in space just seconds away. The bright blue that, only decades ago, had given the planet its reputation as a vacation-paradise had turned into nuances of gray and light brown. Captain Radio cursed the decision of going there, and he cursed the firm for sending him.
The first confirmation that this night was going to be a long one came as he was greeted by the woman behind the bar at the Inn. She looked like she had been run over by the monorail. “Don’t act like you was expecting a centrefold, darling”, she said with a voice that made the spacebugs on the floor flock to her like she was their mother – which would not surprise him if was the case. Now, Captain Radio is not a shallow character who judges books by their covers, so he replied with a smile and a tip of the hat before placing himself on a stool on the far end of the bar. “What will it be?” she asked, as if she had anything else to offer than B6j/5. Without waiting for an answer, she began pouring a glass of B (for short) from a hose probably attached to a rusty keg under the bar.
As Captain Radio was taking in the smell and look of the place, he understood that he was not the only guest at the Inn. In the corner by the exit was a man situated behind a round table hovering in the air. He wore a black suit, torn on one shoulder, and a yellowish, once white, shirt with a green tie. The man had apparently had his eyes on Captain Radio the whole time, because when our hero met his gaze, the man clumsily looked away and spilled his B on the hovering table. The table hovered away to the bar and tilted over a cracked sink so the liquid ran into it and then hovered back. Captain Radio fixed his eyes on the man and the man started whistling as if signalling that he intended to spill the B and that nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. Captain Radio thought nothing more of it and turned around to have a taste of the beverage placed in front of him by the ugliest woman alive. After a moment of quietly contemplating what tomorrow might have in store, he felt a subtle thump on is neck. He turned around to find a loaf of stale bread on the floor behind him and, as he looked up, the man behind the table franticly started whistling and sweating as if he was trying, but ultimately failing, to keep his cool. Captain Radio decided to walk over to him and on the way over the whistling became louder and the sweating became heavier.
“Is this your loaf of stale bread that hit me on the neck?” our hero asked with authority in his voice.
“Yes! I mean no! Off course not! Why would it be?” the man said.
Captain Radio looked at him with an expression that said nothing and the man continued in a low almost whispering voice; “Don’t go there, man! I know you’re thinking about going to Earth, and that is probably why you stopped here, because you have second thoughts about going there, and I’ve been there, and it is not cool, man. Not at all. No sir.”
Captain Radio looked over his shoulder to find the Inn keeper lady watching them with keen interest. He took a sip of B, thinking that it tasted funny, and went straight to the floor. The last thought he had before he blacked out was that he wished he had gone straight to Earth.'
Posta av bmk klokka 18:00
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