Broken weather version 3
This is the third version of the story I wrote for the contest. It is 505 words.
If you missed the post where I babble about my experiences with the writing contest you can find it here. You can find version 1 here. & version 2 here. I plan on releasing the next version tomorrow. Keep in mind none of these versions, save for the final one, were edited.
I suspect no one else sees things the way I do.
I reach for my button. It is hidden away in my left pocket. Today the button is bright green. I never know what color I am going to choose until I pick it. No one knows about my secret cache of buttons, and I don’t want them to. It is a comforting weight in my pocket, a talisman to fidget with when I need to.
Some stomach lets out a grumble as I wait in line for my food. I hadn’t eaten dinner last night because I no longer wanted it. Sometimes I think I am the only person on Station 37-56 who struggles with picking meals out a week in advance. No one complains about it, at any rate, and everyone seems to eat their entire meals. I am supposed to have waffles and hash-browns today. I don’t want them.
“Weather is on the fritz,” a person says near me. They aren’t talking to me, I can tell.
“I heard they have a new program.”
“Bah! They shouldn’t fix what isn’t broken.”
“It’s supposed to be more efficient.”
I move away from the conversation, closer to the counter where my food will be placed. It is raining outside. I’m still wet from the walk into work today. Everyone around me is too. No one was prepared for this rain. The rain is supposed to be tomorrow, it is on the schedule and the weather has been scheduled perfectly since the station was first put up into space.
Rumor has it that the folks who created Station 37-56 felt change was important. They programmed four seasons, each ending and starting on specific dates, and each season has a cycle of weather they go through. They wanted to mirror Earth, but better. People like change, they had argued, but they like change they know is coming.
My stomach lets out another grumble, and the person next to be looks startled. The meals we have are designed to keep us fed, and full. Satisfied. That only works if you eat all of it, I have come to learn.
I reach for my button because I need the comfort it provides. I wonder about the piece of clothing it used to be on. I wonder if the person who owned this button before liked things predictable or if they were like me, and wanted something… different.
The weather isn’t on the fritz. The new program isn’t bugged, either.
It is supposed to run like this. Making it rain or sunny at random intervals. So random that it can’t be placed on a calendar. I don’t want it on the calendar anymore.
“MC-465-78 the Elders wish to see you.”
I look to the intern sent to fetch me. They are young.
“Order up for MC-465-78.”
I know the Elders won’t want to wait for me to eat. I guess I won’t be having the waffles and hash-browns any more. Which is a pity, because now they sound good.